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syeren · 6 months

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WARDROBE MALFUNCTION.

If Miguel had something to be annoyed of, it had to be you.

The ticking of the clock stroke 2:30 PM for their weekly briefing, to which Miguel stood there impatiently waiting for the rest of his crew to show up. Slowly did they trickle in, in groups of twos and threes, but as his eyes scanned the said groups, you were no where in sight… Again.

“Where are they?” He inquired, head slowly turned to Hobie who was situated beside him. Hobie let out a deep exhale, proceeding to stretch his back momentarily before speaking.

“Beats me,” and with that, Miguel let out a scoff.

“Lyla…“ He pressed a hand over his forehead, rubbing at his temples annoyedly. Surely Lyla would be able to hunt you down, the cameras were set up basically everywhere. That was Miguel’s plan of action until loud footsteps became more audible by the second.

You bursted through the doorway, stumbling over your feet as you clambered back up.

“Am I late?” You asked timidly, scratching your nape gently. Hobie tried to stifle a laugh and coughed into his fist, and rotated his reddened face away as he moved along on the wheeled chair.

Peter, who strolled into the room not too long after you appeared, looked at you while letting Mayday play with the tips of his fingers.

“Just in time,” he responded with a smile following after, and a light sarcastic tone to add. With hesitant steps and eyes circled with fatigue, you found yourself plopping at the nearest table on the verge to pass out. Peter took that as a sign to carefully approach you.

A hushed whisper came close to your ear, “everything alright, kiddo?”

You jolted and blinked your eyes rapidly to rid of the blurriness.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m good,” you said tiredly and rested your chin on your elbow, “why do you ask?”

“The ‘I-haven’t-slept-for-days’ look is getting to you. C’mon, don’t pretend we can’t see those ten-pound bags hanging under your eyes! What’s been going on?” Peter asked and looked at you quizzically, head shaking in contemplation whether or not you’ve managed to eat breakfast as well.

“Been trying to figure out a new design for my suit, can you tell it hasn’t been going so grand?” You joked, emphasizing the trial super suit part. Yes, you’ve decided to take on the task of finally putting more importance on the suit that should’ve been well-made and well-kept. If it weren’t for an unfortunate incident where your suit sliced through in a battle, then perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting there about to nod off in fatigue.

Peter placed a comforting hand on your shoulder which Mayday found exciting, and instantly crawled from his back across to your body. The babbling of the small child evoked a small smile from you and you took her into your arms, cooing and toying with her long locks.

“Hey, you could’ve asked me about the suit! You know I have a couple of my own,” he commented, noting the vast array of designs he created. You merely laughed it off, however.

“Peter, you’re like… Bigger than my own stature, don’t you think?” You replied and chuckled in between your words. The man in question was about to let out the most defensive statement, but to your luck — perhaps — Peter was interrupted by a loud cough.

“M-Miguel! So, when’s this meeting going to start?” Peter instantly perked up at the sight of the gigantic man who stood behind him. Small pellets of sweat started to form slightly over his forehead.

Miguel crossed his arms and scowled, grumbling, “the two of you were talking through it, yeah?”

You gave Miguel an apologetic smile before you turned to Mayday, still giggling within your arms. Peter rotated his body to fully face Miguel.

“Sorry about that, see we—“ He stopped and his eyes widened at the sight before him. A soft smile graced Miguel’s face as his attention was fully on you and Mayday, his eyes narrow… But softened. This was a sight that Peter didn’t think he would see, ever. Miguel slightly shook his head and cleared his throat, his expression back to how it was previously.

“We will resume,” he ordered, taking heavy steps back to the front of the room. Peter was left there dumbfounded and to be quite frank — amused. He took Mayday from your arms as she was reaching over towards him and gave you a knowing smile.

“I think I know how to help your little… Suit problem,” he added and placed Mayday back into her carrier. You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Peter was always so helping towards you so you of course didn’t complain, however, this time something felt off.

You leaned back into your chair, curiously looking at Miguel pointing towards a hologram board with lousy penmanship and scribbles indicating what you assume are location points.

“And that would be?” You asked, head still turned towards the board in boredom. Peter only chuckled, and shifted his weight on his forearms that was placed on the table.

“I can ask ole’ Mig over there,” he spoke quietly, nodding his head in Miguel’s direction. “He’s quite the hands-on and organized guy, he would know what to help you with.”

A sarcastic scoff left your mouth at his words, stating, “you really think he would help me out?”

“One hundred percent.”

You smiled at his honesty and bold comment. Miguel wasn’t the type to just help out on a whim, hell, he isn’t the type to even have a conversation normally. You let out a huff and rolled your eyes, turning your attention once again to Peter.

“Can’t wait to be rejected, I guess,” you muttered, and continued to listen to the rest of the meeting.

Though it wasn’t immediately, Peter came up to you a couple hours later, stating that Miguel agreed to help you out. Well, it just took a couple hours of agonizing pestering from the man to finally make Miguel cave in.

“C’mon! What is a superhero without their suit, eh?” Peter’s voice boomed throughout the empty lab he was situated in, along with Miguel and Lyra, who was chuckling away at his seventh time of convincing.

Miguel let out a sigh, irritation threaded between his eyebrows and his patience on the verge of breaking. ��For the last time, no.”

The latter crossed his arms and scowled at the six-foot-nine man. “Fine, fine… Hobie can help them out, ooh perhaps Miles… Maybe Jen,” Peter trailed off, curiosity in his eyes as he peered over to Miguel. Lyra let out a deep exhale, obviously tired of seeing her partner in crime in denial.

“Just do it,” Lyra groaned, rolling her eyes widely, “You’re really a stubborn guy, I think we both know what is really going on with you.”

Peter nodded his head gleefully and seemed proud that he wasn’t the only one noticing his… Strange behaviour towards you.

“What do ya say, tough guy?” He smirked and exchanged glances with Lyra, who also was puffing her chest out in pride.

Silence filled the room as the two awaited for Miguel’s response, and his answer left them internally rejoicing of accomplishment.

“Fine.”

----

“— And he happily agreed!” Peter finished his sentence off and you— on the other hand— stood there with a hand on your hip and one eyebrow raised in the air. The both of you were standing in the hallway when Peter stopped you suddenly, him resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Funny story,” you replied sarcastically, still not believing that the Miguel O’Hara happily agreed to assist you.

He slumped his shoulders at your response and scowled. “Hey, I went through that work! Can I get some sort of ‘Hey, thanks Peter! You’re the best!’ or something along those lines.”

You chuckled at his grumbling and clasped your hands behind your back, finally relieved about getting the weight off your back.

“Okay, okay… Thanks Peter! You really are the best!” You beamed, giggling away in delight.

Peter gave you a genuine smile and you notice his smile turned into a smirk as his eyes glanced over your head. He placed a hand on your shoulder and chuckled.

“Well, gotta get going… Mayday needs some grub in her system, adios!” He hinted and turned on his heel, quickly scampering away. You watched as his figure left the area until a low voice startled you.

“Hey.”

You turned around to see Miguel standing closely behind you, piercing eyes looking down at your figure.

“Oh, hi,” you wavered and looked up, the size difference clearly obvious.

He rubbed a hand at his nape and exclaimed, “Peter told me you were in need of help for your suit, what is the issue?”

You nodded. “Well, I’ve been trying to get the mechanics right. Everytime I try to shoot a web out, it ends up being caught in my suit or my lenses end up failing on me.”

Miguel hummed in acknowledgment, shifting his weight to one foot. “I am free in around four hours if you would like… I can assist you fully then,” he added.

A wide smile appeared on your face, and you chirped. “I would love that, thank you.”

He simply nodded his head, eyes flickered between you and the slightly torn suit you had on. It was a nasty gash, one that reached from one side of your back to the other, with tinier ones littered around it.

"Seemed like one hell of a battle," he exclaimed and pointed out the open areas around your body. You reached a hand over to the one on your arm, covering it in embarrassment.

"Duty called," you stated and rubbed your arm. "I didn't think it would be this bad though."

Miguel let out a laugh in response, a low and vibrating chuckle emitted from his chest.

“l also blame Lyla," he said awkwardly and the tips of his ears flushed a light pink. You flashed him another smile and crossed your arms.

"Well, I take that your apology is you helping me with my suit," you teased, finding his tensed-up behaviour quite amusing. Miguel looked at you endearingly.

"I do hope that it'll suffice," he added while gazing down at you. "I think the new suit will fit nicely too."

You stared at Miguel in awe. Not for the fact of him helping you out or him being nice, but because he truly wasn't like what everyone was saying. Sure, he acted in a despicable way, but he had intentions for what he knew was to be right. It was a realistic approach— If he truly wanted to help out, he absolutely would with no hesitation. And here he was, giggling next to you. Miguel seemed to notice you staring and he broke off your little daydream.

"Something on my face... Or?" He inquired.

"Nothing," you said calmly, another smile laced on your face. "Nothing at all."

#miguel o'hara #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fluff

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devildomdoofus · 3 years

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Lemon Dreams: Part 2

[NSFW]

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Part 1:

MINORS

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, wet dreams, mature themes, implied intercourse, swearing, UP TO CHAPTER 16 SPOILERS

Author’s Note:

You already know what I’m about to say 😅 I am very sorry for the delay. Work’s a doozy and I get stressed easy but.. I hope these are worth the wait!! Please enjoy ❤️

- DevildomDoofus

💖Asmodeus:

This day was rather an exhausting one for Asmodeus. Not enough people groveled at his feet as they normally did, he had a multitude of wardrobe malfunctions, and he just couldn’t quite get his hair to stay in place after he struggled for hours, earlier that morning, to get it just the way he imagined. On top of all of that, you were so busy keeping his brothers out of your hair that you couldn’t quite make enough room in your schedule for him. No, he didn’t blame you in the least, it was just frustrating because, on days like this, you were his sanctuary. You meant the world and more to him and whenever he was feeling out of it, you were right there to remind him just how amazing he really was. However, today.... he was meant to take care of himself.

No matter! He had a backup ‘chin up, Asmo’ kit waiting for him when he returned to the House of Lamentation and he wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, get in the way. Once inside the house, he made a beeline for his room, put a Do Not Disturb sign on his door, and shut himself away with a click of the lock to ensure that he was certainly NOT going to be disturbed. He stripped himself all the way down to bare skin, dipped into his bathroom, and turned the knobs of his bathtub to the temperature that he enjoyed most. Then, he turned the radio to one of his favorite music stations, dimmed the lights, and lit a handful of scented candles before he finally slid down into the tub and sank low enough so that the bubbles tickled his nose. His eyelids felt too heavy to hold up any longer so he let them close as he let out a breath that he felt as if he had carried it all day. The heated water eroded the tension in his muscles and the sound of bubbles popping and music playing in the distance kept his mind from drifting too far down into a spiral. A waft of his favorite scented candle crept up to his nose and from its serene aroma, as well as the effects of the other combined therapeutic items, he was finally able to shrug away all remaining traces of the stress in his mind and body.

After his much needed bath and his before-bed beauty ritual, Asmo slips between the satin sheets of his bed and before too long, drifts peacefully into slumber.

As the Avatar of Lust, his dreams were no different than his life living with his sin; the adoring crowds, the self-idolization, manipulation, and, it goes without saying, the sex. Not much changes in the dreamworld when you’re practically living it in your waking world. However, this particular dream was unlike any he’s ever had before, and it was all because of you.

In this dream, he was a prince renowned for his looks, for his charms, and, of course, for his riches. But he had grown apart from that lifestyle and such a reputation was a tiresome thing, as it made it rather difficult in finding a proper romance partner that wasn’t after him for his looks or money. He wanted someone that loved and wanted him for who he was deep down. That is why he snuck away to a masquerade ball in disguise, in hopes of finding said partner. He spent a majority of the night talking with some people, dancing with others, and trying his damndest to find his future spouse but to no avail. He began to give up hope and with such a loss comes his indulgence of his sin, in which he finds the nearest and worthiest soul to charm, slip them away from prying eyes, and do whatever each of them pleased.

That is, until one peculiar stranger approached him, gently extended their hand, and asked him without words for a dance. He tilted his head in question, a bit hesitant, as so few ever dared to approach him first. They were either far too intimidated or in awe of him that they waited until he approached them.

The stranger smiled beneath the mask, their eyes giving it away, and they dipped their torso low in a respectful bow, so that they may communicate that they truly mean no harm, while keeping their hand extended in invitation. Asmodeus�� lips give way to a pleased smile and he gingerly takes the stranger’s hand as they lead the way to the dance floor. For hours upon hours, song after beautiful song, they whirled and spun in perfect unison as the crowd surrounding them gave way to their joyous dances. The chemistry was unmatched and Asmodeus was overjoyed, as he felt he had finally found his one, true partner. He simply had to know who they were.

Before the next song could play, he took their hand and lead them into an empty hallway where they may share their identities without nosey onlookers. Once out of sight, he brought his fingers up to the mask that concealed the strangers face and looked into their eyes in question, hoping that they permit him to do away with it. The stranger nods and Asmo proceeds, pulling the mask ever so slowly from their face and suddenly, Asmo’s mouth flies open with a gasp and he drops the mask to the floor. It was you.

“MC...?!” He pries his own mask away and looks at you in the same way an artist looks at their own masterpiece after years of hard work. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around you, tightly. You return the embrace, wrapping your arms around him and smiling from ear to ear. He parts from you only to cup your face in his hands and in a whisper he says, “I’ve searched for you for so long.” You smile warmly at him with a twinkle in your eye, replying “I’ve been looking for you too,” and he can longer restrain himself. He crashes his lips flush against yours in a desperate and hungry kiss. He‘s reluctant to let either of you breathe as he‘s pressing himself against you further, closing the distance between your back and the nearest wall. “I’ve searched for you,” he pants between kisses, “for so damn long.” He moves down to your neck, letting his teeth graze the skin before he sinks them down and licks the bite. The noises that you emitted due to his actions made his knees weak. With his lips close to your ear, he practically whines, “Please, may I have you?” You grab him by the collar, tug him back to look you in the eyes and with a hunger of your very own, you commanded, “Take me, Asmodeus. I am yours.”

He sweeps you off of your feet and into his cradling arms, carrying you to the nearest empty room to give you everything that you desired. With the door shut and locked behind you, he was back onto your lips in a matter of seconds, only this time, he was much more patient. He had finally found you, someone he was going to love far greater than he loved himself, and here you were in all of your unbridled glory, asking for him and him alone. Not for his money, not for his looks nor reputation... you wanted him for who he was and he could feel that as he danced with you, in the way that you kissed him, and would soon feel as your bodies became one. And by Diavolo, he was going to take his sweet time getting there. He paced himself, slowly stripping you of all of your clothing as well as all of his own, and kissed every inch of skin he uncovered of yours, starting from your neck and all the way down to the tops of your feet. He praised you as he went, not letting a moment go by without him practically singing your name and the glory that came with it. He snaked his way back up your body and, for the rest of the night and into the early hours of the morning, made love to you in the most beautiful ways, eliciting your sweet melodies of pleasure that he shan’t ever forget for as long as he lives.

Just as he was beginning to whisk you away to his very own castle to marry you, he wakes up. He whips his head around and you were nowhere to be seen, nor was he taking you to his castle to wed you. It was simply him alone in his room. He huffs out of frustration that it was all just a dream... but then he smiles widely with a giggle, bringing a pillow up to cover his reddening cheeks because the dream was unlike anything he’s ever dreamt before, or ever experienced in real life for that matter. And that experience was love. Not lust, romanticization, idolization, or a sorcerer looking for a pact. It was pure love. He simply had to tell you about this dream. He texts you to “come over right away! It’s an emergency! Be sure to come alone. ❤️”

Once you’re there, he sets the both of you down onto his bed, where he usually talked things over with you, snuggles up close to you and relays everything that happened in the dream... EVERYTHING. He didn’t leave out a single detail. To say that your cheeks could melt steel by the end of his storytelling, was an understatement. For the next few days, Asmodeus was like a barnacle on a boat. He never left your side and couldn’t stand being away from you for too long. He also was a little more protective of you against his brothers or anyone else that wanted your attention. He wasn’t having it. For now and maybe perhaps forever, you were Asmo’s, like the masquerade partner you were in his dreams.

❤️Beelzebub:

As a demon, and living in the Devildom, you just don’t really get to have many ‘good’ days considering the whole ‘sin’ thing and fighting in The Great War and then falling because of it and all that jazz. However, today was an exception for dear Beelzebub. He had eaten his favorite meals all day, was lucky enough to spend an exceptional amount of time with you and Belphegor throughout the day, won a championship game of Fangol (devildom football) against the toughest opposing team, and finally had enough remaining energy to celebrate his big win with a surprise house party involving one of his absolute, all-time favorite meals catered by you and Barbatos... human world cheeseburgers. And it wasn’t even his birthday! He’d have to mention this to his brothers to coerce them into doing some like this for when his special day came around but.. ya know... bigger. Oh! And don’t forget Belphegor’s favorite foods too.

The party lasted for hours on end as each brother spent an extended period of time congratulating him on his victory in between moments of him shoveling the food into his mouth, singing his praises for every move and tactic he used in the game that kept them at the edge of their seats, and hyping him up for the next game to follow in which they were confident in him bringing them another victory. Eventually, everyone’s batteries especially Lucifer’s had run out and the time for celebration had come to a close.

Lucifer sent the elder brothers and yourself to your rooms as he stayed behind to help Barbatos clean, as well as monitor Beelzebub while he finished scarfing down the last scraps of food and downing the final glasses of Demonus. “You played well today, Beelzebub,” Lucifer praised, as he cleared away the empty dishes surrounding Beel and the slumbering twin that rested on his shoulder. “I’m quite proud of you.” He paused for breath. “Then again,” he quipped, “I expected no less from you.” Beelzebub tried his best to flash his dimpled smile with his cheeks puffy with food before swallowing it whole, followed by an audible gulp, and chuckled. “Thank you, Lucifer. That means a lot to me.” Lucifer returned the smile, shifted some dishes from one hand to another in order to use the free one to ruffle a bit of Beel’s hair before he stepped away. By now, Belphegor shifted against his brother and mumbled incoherently. Fortunately, Beelzebub spoke Sloth and knew it was finally time to call it a day and take his twin to bed. He grabbed a final cheeseburger and stuffed it between his teeth, squatted low enough to allow Belphegor to climb sluggishly onto his back like a koala, and started towards their room with a light skip in his step. “What a day,” he thought to himself on repeat, all while tucking his brother in and getting ready for bed himself. As he turned the lights out and finally laid down, he gazed up at the ceiling with a dimpled grin on his face and let his thoughts venture towards you before finally closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. Of course, they always did ever since you held his hand to help him fall asleep way back when. And since you couldn’t always be there every single night to help him fall asleep again, he had to think of you as an alternative.

When it comes to his resting, unconscious mind, Beelzebub has four different reoccurring dreams.

He’s living an absolute carefree life with his entire family (including his late sister), not bound by sin or Diavolo, and experiencing paradise in its truest form with the ones he loves

It’s an everlasting, all-you-can-eat, buffet, catered by Barbatos, Luke, and you (with your human world cheeseburgers)

He’s reliving the terror of having to watch his sister get struck down and die. Sometimes he loses Belphegor and/or you too, and, if he’s really unlucky that night, he loses absolutely everyone he’s closest to. His sister, his brothers, you, Luke, Simeon...

Some fortunate or unfortunate combination of any of the above.

However, Lady Fortune continued to smile upon dear, sweet Beelzebub and tonight, he was going to experience a dream unlike any he’s had before.

It commenced with you and him taking a trip to the human world so that you could show him a few of your favorite eateries, restaurants, cafes, bakeries, and the like. Of course, Belphegor came along and was lingering close by, window shopping at furniture stores as they usually had the best products for maximum comfort. You first took them to a coffee shop and showed them all the delicious things they could buy. It took some major convincing (and elbow grease and the help of a twin demon) to pull Beelzebub away from the glass, encasing the baked goods, to keep him from drooling on it. Next, you ventured to a nearby ‘ma-and-pa’ bakery where the goods were stocked to the edge of the shelves with various handmade loafs, muffins, cupcakes and cakes, cookies, croissants. You name it, you smell it, and it was there. With stars in his eyes and zero restraint, Beelzebub slapped his wallet onto the counter and pleaded for as much of their inventory as the shop owner allowed. You two left the bakery with both arms carrying bags up to your elbows and giant grins on your faces. After breezing by a number of other food joints, you finally came to the crowning moment that you’ve been dying to show Beelzebub. The local candy shop. His eyes grew to the size of the sun and his mouth swung open as he gawked at the wonderland of hypnotizing colors and towering walls covered in sweets just beyond the window. Belphegor sighed, shook his head with a smirk and mumbled, “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He took the bags you two were carrying and sat on a nearby bench. Seeing Beelzebub unable to contain his excitement, you nodded to Belphie, took a firm hold of Beel’s hand with a big grin, and led him in.

You started off by showing him the taffy puller where the employees kept watch over the machine as it looped the taffy over and under. Then, you brought him over to the cotton candy machine as an employee was twirling the little ball of fluff into an adorable bunny. Finally, you brought him to the wall of candy where you could grab a bag of whichever size you prefered and stuff it to the brim with goodies. Of course, you handed him a couple of the largest bags they had available and off he went in search of a multitude of sweets. You, yourself grabbed a medium sized bag. When he returned to you, his bags were bloated and almost spilling out over the top but Beel simply couldn’t help himself. They all seemed so delicious. What you didn’t know is that he had a little surprise for you whenever you two left the shop.

Once the three of you returned to the House of Lamentation, Belphegor lazily saluted and headed off to the attic, whereas you and Beelzebub had some major snacking to do.

Sitting in the floor of his room, you took your time sharing sweets amongst each other and complimenting their sugary goodness... until he sealed his bags up, slid them away, and scooted closer to you. You eyed him in curiosity, unsure of his wellbeing considering he stopped eating so suddenly. “MC, I wanted to thank you for today and wanted you to know how much it meant to me...” He inches closer, knees touching yours. “...so, I got you something.” He held up a couple of boxes of Pocky, each in a different flavor. “Pick one.” You tapped on the box with your favorite flavor, and he set aside the remaining ones. Pulling out one of the sticks, he hovers the tip of it just outside the immediate reach of your lips. “Say ahh,” he requested, demonstrating by opening his own mouth. Your lips parted with an ‘ahh’ and he tucks one end of the Pocky stick between his teeth and placed the other end in your mouth. As your cheeks heat up and you look back and forth between his eyes in question, you spot a smirk making its way to his face and he takes a swift bite of the Pocky to keep you focused on him rather than letting go and backing away. You attempt to mirror his act by taking a trembling nibble of the Pocky, inching yourself closer to him, to his lips. He takes a bigger bite than before, rapidly closing the distance between you two. Before long, you’re but a mere half an inch apart and you shut your eyes as you consider just letting go before things could go any further. With the Pocky still between his teeth, he chuckles lowly and “look at me,” he demands. As your eyes open to meet his, he smirks and bites off the last bit of Pocky, lifts a hand up and cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, flavorful kiss. His tongue slithers past your lips and chases after the taste of the Pocky that still lingered in your mouth. Meanwhile, he’s lowering you down onto your back and shifts in a way to keep you pinned beneath him. Your whimpers and moans keep stirring the flames inside of him, engulfing every other thought that isn’t you and this newfound hunger for something oh so sweet. He slinks down your body and strips you of your clothes as he goes, leaving little bruises and bite marks in the bits of flesh he uncovers. “I could just swallow you whole...” He reaches a hand down between your legs, swipes a bit of yourself onto his fingertips and drags his tongue along it, savoring the taste of you. “Fuck MC...”

Before he could do as he very much pleased, the intense growl of his empty stomach startled him awake. He is an absolute blushing MESS and the sheets of his bed have somehow become uncomfortable for his lower half. He looks over at his brother, hoping that he’s still asleep. Thankfully, the sound of a gentle snore confirmed it and Beelzebub tiptoed into the bathroom to cool down.

The following weeks, Beelzebub had a hard time avoiding you, bearing in mind that you were a big eater similar to him, and like him, wherever there was food or snacks, you were there too. It’s one of the reasons he used to feel so comfortable around you. However, the very reason for one of his comforts was the same reason it was harder in more ways than one for him to keep his cool around you because he couldn’t quite that sinfully amazing dream out of his head. You unknowingly made things more difficult whenever you offered him a handful of candy as his stomach growled around you. It brought that cherry red blush back to his entire face and he would make an excuse to go back to his room... and you could never figure out why. Was it the flavor? The gesture itself? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? You got around to asking Belphegor and with a shrug of his shoulders, he replied “maybe he had a dream where he ate candy off of your body?” Your cheeks heated up at the thought and you tried to laugh it off, dismissing the idea. Still... just the thought of it kept you up many, many nights. If only such a thing would come true...

💜Belphegor:

Lucifer was NOT giving him a break. How could he expect The Avatar of Sloth to handle so many responsibilities that go against his very nature? Like waking up in general to go to school, staying awake during classes, completing assignments, kitchen duty, attending whatever event Diavolo was hosting simply because Lucifer said so... I mean, it was all TOO much. It was the same situation as if one were to ask Beelzebub to stop eating, or Satan to stop reading, or any of the other brothers to just toss their sins and means of survival into the trash and pretend they don’t have them, all for some goofy prince who decided it was ‘perfectly fine’ to bring different realm dwellers down into the devildom to be buddy-buddy, like there wasn’t a huge, gaping scar diving them all in the first place. Then again... two of them aren’t all that bad. Simeon is an old ‘friend of the family’ and MC... Well? MC is Lilith MC. And they were the warm light at the end of this bleak, never ending tunnel. The thin shred of hope in the world. And he was going to show them how much they meant to him in the best way that he knew how, while also giving Lucifer a headache in the process.

Belphegor plops down beside you at the large desk you two shared before the class could start. He glances around, noticing that the assigned teacher hadn’t shown up yet nor were any of the other classmates, and it was the perfect time to put his plan into action. He hooks his foot around one of the legs of your chairs and slides you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear without much effort. “Let’s ditch this shit hole.” You could feel the smirk against the lobe of your ear and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. With a heavy sigh, you glared at him and could tell from the twinkle in his caverns of amethyst that it was going to be an uphill battle to change his mind. “C’mon, goody two shoes. We won’t be gone long.” A blatant lie. “Belphegor, you know as well as I do that I can’t do that.” You were trying your best to stand firm, undeterred by his attempts at coercing you in hopes that his laziness would make its grand appearance and he’d give up. But not this time. This time, Belphegor had something he wanted to do for you and he wasn’t about to give up. “MC...,” he places a warm hand on your upper thigh, giving it a light squeeze as he leans in to the skin just below your ear with his lips grazing it, “what’s the matter? Afraid Lucifer will find out and tear you a new one?” He shifted his free hand to the bottom of your chair and jerks it around for your body to face his direction, his lips now very close to your own. He brings the hand from the chair up to your face and holds your chin snug between his index and thumb. Your face heats up enough that it could melt lava and your body tenses. You hear him chuckle lowly to himself, amused by how worked up you become from his actions. “What if he’s too busy nagging me to pay any attention to you? Hm? Worst comes to worst, we can just knock it up to you being ignorant of my...,” he pauses, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip while stealing a glance at them, then looks back up to you, “advances... and he lets you off the hook? What do you say to that, MC?” Your mind was empty and his hands on your body were making it difficult to even comprehend his proposal. You could only think of the low rumble of his voice and whatever the hell it was saying was probably going to come back to bite you in the ass later. However, something about the way he said it, the way he teased you in a such a way to get what he wanted... it was hard saying no.

You slowly nod your head, and the hands that once pinned you in place from the gentlest of touches released you a little too quickly. “Great!” he chirped in victory, standing up from his chair and offering his hand to you. You shot him another glare and reluctantly took his hand with an annoyed squeeze to his fingers. “Not for long. Promise?” He giggled, scooping you up into his arms bridal style. “No. Now act sick until we get to the attic. Don’t want anyone thinking there’s nothing wrong with you and you don’t need a day off.” You crossed your arms in a huff, feeling humiliatingly duped. But the way he was holding you made you feel a little bit better about it all, taking into account how much he truly cared for you and teasing you was just his cheeky way of showing it, while also getting whatever it is he wanted. With that in mind, you curled into his embrace and fully indulged in his scheme, letting out a few test trial, fake coughs and thought of something that distressed you to get the tears going... mostly for the runny nose and puffy eye effect. “Careful. Too great a performance and they’ll be badgering Diavolo to revive you in exchange for their soul.” You reeled back with your outermost arm and sent a heavy blow to his chest. “Kidding,” he laughed. “...sort of.”

Once you two make it behind the door of the attic with a quick turn of the lock, he sets you back down onto your feet and stretches his arms out followed by an audible yawn. “You almost had Mammon shift into his demon form over you. Great job.” he quipped. “Yeah, and I hated every second of it. Can we just nap already? All the crying and fake coughing tuckered me out,” you retorted. “Sure, I’ll grab our favorite blankets,” he said, ducking away to go get them. “And I’ll get the pillows and stuffed creatures.”

You separated for a moment to gather the necessities, tossed them onto the bed, and then huddled up to snuggle close beneath the mountain of comfort. You hooked a leg over his waist and he slid one between your legs, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and he draped one of his over your side, nuzzling his face into your chest. “‘night MC... and thank you.” he mumbled. You placed a chaste kiss to the top of his head and replied, “You’re welcome, Belphie. Sleep tight.” “You too.” And with your bids of sweet sayonara, you drift off into a deep slumber, one that only clinging to The Avatar of Sloth could provide.

One of the perks of being said Avatar of Sloth is that he can visit other people’s dreams, especially if he shares a strong connection with the host. Whenever you shared naps together, he’d sneak his way into your dream world and your mind was like a shared secret hideout because it was the only place you two could be alone for extended periods of time. It was also your own wonderland because he could make ANYthing happen. You wanted to fly amongst the stars? He’d take your hands and lift you both into the atmosphere. You wanted to become your favorite human world creature? He’d snap his fingers and away you two would scurry off. Whatever it was that you wished, he could make it happen within your unconscious mind. However, this go around, Belphie had a wish of his very own and one that he hoped you would grant.

Once he snuck into your dreams, he soon spotted you laid back peacefully upon a cloud, reaching your hand up to rearrange the stars in different shapes and patterns. He noticed you had made one of him and yourself, holding hands. The smile that crept onto his face was impossible to hide, no matter how hard he tried to come off as cold or indifferent. “Always knew you had an artistic streak in you.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, sitting up and clutching your chest. “That was fast,” you breathed. “A warning would be nice.”

“Why? I wouldn’t be able to get such a cute reaction out of you if I did.” He floated towards you and hoisted himself up to his place beside you on the cloud. “How charming,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own, earning yourself a light chortle from him. “So,” you continued, “what shall we do this time? Sail some open seas as pirates? Rob a bank as outlaws in the old west? Or maybe-.” He places a hand over your mouth and shakes his head with his shoulders jumping in light laughter. “You seem to forget who I am, silly. I say we continue from where you left off before you were so rudely interrupted, hm?” He lays back onto the cloud and pulls you down next to him. Then, he takes your hand by the wrist and lifts it back up to the stars and starts moving your fingers in different motions so that you’re creating various works of art as you had been before. Getting the picture, you giggle and continue moving your fingers to shape the stars with him watching you in adoration... but he’d never tell you he did so. At some point you make a cow and point it out to him, laughing at your own joke referring to him in his demon form. “See? The resemblance is astounding!” He smirks, sitting up and looking down at you. “Oh yeah?” he asks, his tone hinting towards a playful threat. “Yeah!” you swat at him.

That was your mistake.

He grips your wrist with one hand and rolls over top of you, taking your other hand and pinning both of them above your head. He trails his free hand from your face, down your side and rests it on your hip, keeping you in place beneath him. Your skin twitches under his gentle touch and your face heats up again as your breath becomes hitched in your throat. “N-not fair...” you whined, squirming and trying your best to get the upper hand. He shakes his head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Still forgetting who I am, MC?” He leans down towards your ear, his lips grazing the lobe. He practically growls in your ear, “I don’t play fair.” His gripping on you tightens as he moves lower to sink his teeth down onto your neck, earning him a soft whimper, one that spurs him on further. He snakes his hand from your hip beneath your shirt and runs it up and down your sides as he moves his lips to yours, giving them a bite every so often while occasionally slipping in his tongue. For the rest of the dream he is having his way with you and making your wildest fantasies become reality.. as much as your dreamworld allowed.

When he wakes, he opens his eyes to an empty spot beside him where you normally laid. He sits up, scratching his head and finding a new sense of uncomfortableness beneath the blankets, particularly at his groin. He searches the room for you but you’re nowhere in sight. “MC?” You pop your head around the corner of the bathroom doorway, weariness still in your eyes. “hmmm, yes Belphie?” As you switch off the light and shuffle back to the bed, slipping back underneath the blankets, he’s eyeing you in suspicion. “When did you wake up?” He asks, a gravel to his voice from such a deep slumber. “Well, as you were watching me paint with stars, my body woke me up because I had to use the bathroom...” you paused a moment in thought. “Did I miss something in dreamworld?” He ponders your statement for a second, unsure of how to respond. What it be so bad if he was just honest and told you what happened between him and.. what was supposed to be you? “Yes, you did.” he smirked, “You painted a cow and said it looked like me.” “Haha, classic MC,” you quipped about yourself.

The remainder of your time playing hooky, you were the big spoon and his excuse was that it was more comfortable this way now. Unfazed, you snuggled up behind him and snaked your arm under his to place your hand against his chest. Only this time, he couldn’t sleep. Him. Mr. Sandman. Couldn’t sleep. His mind was reeling, constantly going over the way your body moved against his, how your voice and sounds were like lewd melodies to his ears, and the way you made him feel on another level... it kept him and his lower half up for as long as you were snuggled close to him and had your hand so close to his heart. However, the memory of the dream would last for eternity.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #otome #mine #my posts #devildomdoofus #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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bluewhale52 · 3 years

Text

RED (M)

Things you need to know about this fic:

1. Hobi is tied up during sex 2. This piece is inspired by a prompt I saw on @creativepromptsforwriting: “Can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?” “Babe, I’m a demon. What do you expect me to do?” (Submitted by: welcome-tothe-mystery-shack)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x female reader

WC: 6.4k

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED!

Genre: idol!au, fantasy!au, supernatural!au, estabished relationship,

Warning: one of the characters is a demon, mention of Hobi’s red suit (yes, THAT one), oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, kinda rough sex but not that crazy rough, slight choking, for once Hoseok is not the dom.

A/N : thank you to the lovely @illneverrecover who really boosted my confidence and enjoyed the story when I wasn’t even sure about it!

Taglist: @gee-nee

Just over two years ago, Hoseok met you in an upscale club.He remembers the moment he saw you as if it was only yesterday. He remembers seeing you all by yourself at the bar in the VIP section, your finger circling the mouth of your martini glass lazily. He remembers the blood red dress you wore- how it was so conservative that it covered you up completely, but it hugged you in all the right places. He remembers the way you looked at him- as if you were hungry for him- and it still sends shivers down his spine to this day.

You approached him that night- nothing unusual for him, men and women flock to him because of his idol status- and he was instantly enraptured. The piercing gaze you gave him rendered him immobile. The swaying of your hips hypnotized him completely that he forgot where he was. And somehow, SOMEHOW, he found his members all gone- to the bar, to the dance floor, to the restroom, who knew. Then you sat yourself next to him, your long fingers trailed from his shoulder down to his thigh. Your mouth whispered such filthy things in his ears and he thought he was going to come in his pants.

Hoseok agreed too easily at your invitation to go back to your place. He had never gone to anyone’s home for a hookup- it was simply too dangerous- but he did not even think twice when you invited him. There was something about how you drew out his desires, almost as if you were feeding off them to satiate your carnal hunger. Though the night was a blur to him, he remembers the lustful, searing passion he had with you. He also remembers waking Jimin up when he returned to the dorm in the early morning, begging him to help cover up all the marks you had left on his neck and collarbones; he was too embarrassed to face the stylists later that day.

That one night hook-up turned into several nights, and ignoring Namjoon’s warning, Hoseok continued to see you whenever he was in Seoul. Before he knew it, he started developing feelings for you, and he gathered his courage to ask you out on a proper date.

He could see the shock in your face when he asked, but you eventually agreed on one condition. He had told you he was going to New Zealand for Bon Voyage, and you dared him to do a bungee jump there. If he did it, he got himself a date with you.

And a date was won, for he faced his fears and took the plunge. You both agreed to have your first date in your apartment, a place you both were comfortable in and also for privacy obviously. Dinner was delicious, conversation flew effortlessly, and Hoseok’s feelings grew even stronger.

He confessed to you as he was pinning you down on your sofa, kissing you hungrily and passionately. You pushed him away, looking worried and confused.

“Babe, are you all right?” He stroked your hair. “I’m sorry that came out of nowhere, I just wanted to let you know, I really want us to pursue this.”

His heart dropped when you looked away. Then in a small whisper, you replied to him.

“Hoseok, I’m a demon.”

Hoseok stared at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. He looked at you once his laughter had subsided, then laughed again, albeit a little more unsurely at the sight of your serious expression.

“Wait, no, there’s no such thing.” He paused. “Right?”

“I really am a demon, Hoseok.”

He eyed you skeptically, figuring out which way your joke was going to.

“Seeing is believing, right?” You snapped your finger and produced a red flame on your palm.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “How.. how did you do that? That’s such a cool magic trick!”

However, he gulped audibly when your facial expression fell. Anyone would be excited to show off a cool magic trick, but you looked… dejected?

“Hoseok,” you said softly. “You trust me, don’t you? You know that you’re safe, as long as you’re with me.”

“O...kay….” he chuckled nervously.

You stood up and took a deep breath. The apartment turned pitch dark, and your body was bathed in red flame, providing the only source of light. Your eyes turned red, staring him down as your mouth turned into a wicked smile. Hoseok sat frozen on the sofa, fear paralyzing him, finally realizing this was indeed no mere magic trick. Then you raised your arms, and luminous green shadows appeared behind you, ugly and vicious. You leaned down toward Hoseok, and he immediately tried to back away. With a gesture of your hand, two streaks of green slithered around his body, holding him in place.

“Trust me, Hoseok.” you whispered, then you placed your palm over his heart, and to his horor, you drew out a thin black smoke out of his chest. You then twirled it around your long finger. “This is fear,” you explained, “I pulled this out of you, just a little bit, not all, because I… well I like it when you’re a scaredy cat.”

The green shadows were growling, hungry. “They like negative emotions. Fear, jealousy, greed, they feed on them.” You blew the black smoke towards the shadows behind you. The green shadows screeched and fought to gobble up the smoke in no time, then you sent them back to the dark abyss with a soft chant. The light came back on, and the flame around your body disappeared.

You turned to look at Hoseok, once everything was back to normal. He was patalyzed still- eyes unblinking, ears ringing, heart beating fast and brain malfunctioning over what he had just witnessed.

“You… you’re..” he finally snapped out of his shock, “you’re a demon.”

You nodded and kneeled before him. “I am, Hoseok. And I think I have feelings for you too.”

Hoseok gasped. Then it all went black.

Hoseok finally came to, and he found himself in your bed, tucked underneath your blanket. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and his head. He tried to recall what happened before he fainted, but he was distracted by the sounds from outside your bedroom.

Hoseok gingerly got out of bed and walked out, still rubbing his head. Then he found you in the living room with... Yoongi?

“Hyung?”

Yoongi gave him a silent wave as a way of greeting.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok sat down on the sofa. He noticed you were keeping your distance from him. “What’s going on?”

“Hoseok,” you called his name gently, “do you remember what happened?”

Hoseok tilted his head, trying to recall. He remembered having dinner with you, kissing you, and then…. Hoseok recoiled at the memory of red flame and green shadows. You winced at his reactions.

“Hoseok, please calm down, don’t faint on me again.” You pleaded.

Hoseok snapped his head towards Yoongi. “Hyung?”

“She told me what happened, Seok-ah, down to the scary bits that knocked you out.”

Hoseok found your eyes again. “So, it’s true then, you’re really a demon?”

“Yeah…” you shrugged your shoulders. “Technically a succubus, but I prefer being called a demon.”

“How… what... “ Hundreds of questions ran through his mind. He looked back at Yoongi for help, and he was shocked to see how unaffected Yoongi looked. “Hyung, did you know all this while? And, why are you here? How can you be so calm?” Hoseok gasped. “Wait, are YOU a demon too?”

“Weirder things have happened.” Yoongi answered nonchalantly.

“Did she show you all the flames and shadows? And they didn’t bother you?”

Yoongi shook his head. “She said I’d be safe, so no, it didn’t bother me much. A bit scary, yes, but I was okay.”

Hoseok stared at Yoongi in amazement, confused at how he was taking the news so easily. So instead, Hoseok stood up to pace back and forth, trying to gather his thoughts. “Okay. So you’re a demon, technically a succubus…”

You nodded.

“... so, did you ever suck my soul? Or tried to? Do I still have a soul?”

You wrung your hands. “I never did, well, I mean, when I first saw you in that club, yeah I wanted your soul so badly because I could smell its purity. You were so tempting. And I did take you home planning to suck it out of you, but I couldn’t do it. Not that night and any nights after.”

Hoseok looked at you, hearing what you said but not fully comprehending it. He looked at Yoongi for help, but his friend simply shrugged again. “I admit this is a lot to take in, but, she hasn’t hurt you so far.”

“Okay, so you don’t want my soul.” You shook your head. “And what about my members? Do you want their souls?”

“No, of course not! If I wanted theirs, I’d have slept with every single one of them. And I didn’t. Nor do I ever plan to. I just… I just want to be with you.”

Hoseok swallowed hard at your confession. Despite everything that had been revealed to him, he still wanted to be with you too. But he had so many questions yet to be answered. “So, you’ve sucked other people’s souls before?”

“Well yeah, that’s my job. I have a monthly quota to meet.”

“A quota? What do you mean, a quota?” Hoseok asked, his curiosity peaked.

“Do you honestly think I’m in this world, just for fun? If I want to keep this amazing apartment, and the amazing fashion labels I have in my wardrobe, I have to work for it.”

“How does it work?” Hoseok asked. “You just go around seducing humans, then suck their souls and... file your report?”

“Basically, yes. But, I don’t do all that seducing anymore, not after I met you.” Hoseok’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone else. So I had to find other ways to keep my job performance up.”

“So what do you do now?” It was Yoongi who spoke.

“Well, I don’t like being called a succubus because, honestly I’m much more than that. Since I don’t partake in any.... activities… anymore, now I’m more like a wicked cupid, if that makes sense?”

Hoseok pinched his nose. “It doesn’t; explain to me? To us?”

You took a deep breath. “Basically, I play matchmaker to cheaters. For example, I set up a man cheating on his wife with a woman cheating on her husband. I do that a lot these days. It’s boring, and their souls are already corrupted, so they’re not valued as much as purer souls.” you pouted. “It’s a lot more work but it’s the only way to keep myself just for you.”

“So you just make people have sex with each other?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah, I have to watch them do it,” you made a disgusted face. “It’s easiest to suck their souls out in the moments when they lose control, you know?”

“So… you watch them?” Hoseok was embarrassed that he was more intrigued than disturbed.

“Yes....” You narrowed your eyes at him, “... do you... want to watch too?”

Hoseok blushed at your question. “No, no, I don’t, of course not!” He paused for a second. “But, if I wanted to... I could?”

“OKAY!” Yoongi piped up before neither Hoseok nor you spoke. “So the gist of this conversation is that you” Yoongi pointed at you, “are a demon who doesn’t do all the demonic things anymore so that you can build a relationship with him. Correct?“

You answered Yoongi with a nod, and Hoseok felt a squeeze around his heart; he felt happy that you were willing to make changes to be with him. His brain, however, kept sounding the alarm, screaming at him to step out of this abnormality.

Hoseok excused himself, and then dragged Yoongi to your bathroom.

“Hyung, this is crazy, right? I’m crazy that I still want to be with her right?”

“Honestly, Hobi. If you want to be with her, be with her. If she wanted you soulless, or dead, she’d have done it a long time ago. You were so into her before finding out her true-self. And so far, I think she’s been upfront, as honest as she could.”

“You’re right,” Hoseok paced in the small space. “I do like her, a lot. And I don’t feel… threatened? Or scared? Like it’s a shock, but I’m surprisingly okay with all this.”

“Good, then. So you guys just need to work it out. Maybe ask her what her weakness is, you know? Every demon has that one weakness, right? It’ll be like an exchange of trust. You trust her not to take your soul, and she trusts you not to annihilate her.”

“Hyung, that can’t be healthy, to hold each other at gunpoint.” Hoseok chuckled nervously, but made a mental note to bring it up to you. “Hang on, why did she call you here?”

“I’m the most sensible of the seven of us.” Yoongi answered confidently. “Would you rather Jin Hyung be here screaming his heart out?”

Hoseok waved Yoongi off. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for being here, Hyung.”

Yoongi opened the door. “I’m leaving now, You guys talk it out, okay?”

Hoseok stayed with you that night, asked you all the questions needed to be asked, and when the sun rose, you became his girlfriend.

“Hobi Hyung!” Jimin bellows from the door. “Noona is here!”

You follow him inside the apartment. Once you and Hoseok became official, he was only too excited to introduce you to his members. Your real identity is still a secret however, except to Yoongi.

You linger in the kitchen, waiting for your boyfriend. “So, where are you guys going today?” Jimin asks.

“Just dinner, at that Japanese place he went to a few weeks ago. Then maybe some night shopping”

“You know,” Jimin rubs his chin, “I don’t understand how Hyung does it. Whenever he’s out with you, no one, and I mean, no one is able to spot him.”

You shrug. “He disguises himself well behind his mask and hat.”

“Yeah right,” Jimin snickers as Hoseok comes out of his room. “You’re telling me no one recognises him in THAT? That screams J-Hope of BTS, Noona.”

You look over to where Jimin is pointing. Hoseok is wearing a bright blue jacket with a large FILA across the back. His beanie is maroon red, and his pants are moss green with colourful accessories and pins. His signature little bag is slung across his chest; today he has chosen yellow with rainbow flowers. He will probably wear his orange sneakers to complete the look.

“Then I guess we’re just lucky, Chim.” You beam at Hoseok as he comes nearer. You are lucky indeed.

“Ready?” He asks after giving you a kiss. You nod. “Don’t wait up for us, Jimin.”

Jimin eyes you playfully. “Not planning too, Hyung. Have fun!”

You and Hoseok walk hand-in-hand leaving his apartment and down to the parking lot. Once inside his car, he asks. “What were you talking about with Jimin, babe?”

“Oh you know,” you fasten your seatbelt. “He wonders why no one recognises you whenever we venture outside.”

Hoseok chuckles as he starts the engine. “Well, the last time anyone tried to take photos of us, their phones burst in flame and you sent them to have an orgy in a dingy bar.”

You cackle. “That was fun. And it helped me meet my target. I should do that again sometime soon.”

“Well, can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?" Hoseok asks.

"Babe, I'm a demon. What do you expect me to do?" You retort. “If they don’t bother you, I won’t do anything to them, you know that.”

“I never thought I’d have a guardian demon.” Hoseok laughs heartily. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

You shoot him a sweet smile. “But you know, I do miss torturing a human. I miss their cries, their patheticness. How they promise me the world if only I would give them release. I miss that power.”

“Well,” your boyfriend clears his throat. “You can torture me. Like not that painful kind of torture. But you can make me cry and beg.”

You snap your head towards him. It takes all the power within you to tame the ferocious desires suddenly bubbling in you. “You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course, I want to make you happy.” He reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Just… don’t suck my soul.”

“Of course not. I would never.”

“Okay then. Should we just head to your place now?” Hoseok switches lanes, getting ready to make a u-turn.

“Yeah, fuck dinner. Let’s go home now.”

Hoseok thinks he has died and gone to heaven- or maybe, hell?- when you come out of your walk in wardrobe. You have put on the sexiest, the most tantalizing lingerie he has ever seen, and it has the same colour as his red suit, the one he wore in his concert that sent Army all over the world crazy.

The teddy hugs your body in all the right places; the deep v-neck shows off your cleavage, the lace covering your breasts is cut so delicately, and hangs on a little string to keep everything together. Below the lace, however, is all see through. He can see your belly button, and the mark of Hell just below it. His eyes move further down, and he gulps. He could see your bare sex, already weeping. The teddy is high cut too, baring your hips and making your legs look even longer. And when you turn, that sorry excuse of a fabric disappears between your ass cheeks only to reappear at your lower back, going up into a series of intricate web on your back.

Then Hoseok looks at what you have in your hand. A red silk rope. He looks back up to you. You give him a wicked smile.

“What are you waiting for? Get undressed for me, Daddy.” You instruct him.

He immediately takes his clothes off, and you stop him before he removes his boxers. “Those are for me to take off.” You slyly tease, earning a grin from him.

“Get on the bed.” Hoseok obediently does as you ask. “Hands up.” You grab his wrists, and you bind them to the bed posts with your silk rope, tightly enough that he winces slightly. You then straddle him, raking your nails up and down his lean, hard torso. He writhes underneath you. You slide further down so that you rest directly above his now hard cock.

“Oh God,” Hoseok gasps as he feels your wetness through his boxers. You tut in disapproval, and lean down to nip and suck on his chest harshly.

“We don’t say that word in this house, Daddy. You should’ve known better.” You chastise him. You gently rub the purple mark you have just left on his chest. You lay our palm flat against his nipples, rubbing the stiff peaks.

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he pants, “I won’t say it again.”

You bend down so your face hovers over Hoseok’s. You rub your nose against his, then your lips ghost over his mouth and along his jaw. You smile when you hear him whimper.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“I do, baby. I love you. Kiss me, please?”

You kiss him passionately, the last act of intimacy before you start playing with him. You roll your hips, and you feel his body jerks slightly. You hold him down, as your mouth swallows his moans and your dripping core rubs against his hardness.

You sit back up, your hands back onto his chest, and your hips continue to roll. You watch him squirm underneath you. His hands are balled in tight fists, his arms flexing, showing the sinewy muscles. You trail a finger from the inside of his elbow, down the biceps, and to his shoulder and collarbone.

“You’re so fucking hot, Jung Hoseok. Remember that night we met? Once I got you here, I didn’t even want your soul anymore, I just wanted you to fuck me senseless.”

Your finger goes further down along his pec, and circles around his hard nipple. You flick it gently and Hoseok closes his eyes as he suppresses a moan. You raise your finger to his lips, prodding them open.

“Suck.”

Hoseok envelops your digit immediately, pressing his tongue flat against it. His head starts bobbing, sucking your finger until he is drooling. You raise yourself up to your knees, and Hoseok groans at the loss of your wetness on his boxers. But then he moans around your finger as you slither up towards his chest. Your sex, covered in the most ridiculously see through material, is right in front of him. He can see clearly how you have soaked the fabric, your pussy lips swollen and ready for him to feast on. He looks up at you, eyes pleading. He is desperate for your taste.

You return his stare, and tilting your head, you pull your finger out of his mouth. Then you run it from the bottom of your neck, down to the valley between your breasts, and further south it goes. Hoseok whines at the wet trail of his saliva down your teddy, and when your finger slides over your covered pussy, he lets out a loud moan.

“Hmmm, what is it, Daddy?” You slide your finger back and forth, his saliva all but replaced by your own juices. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, yes please.” Hoseok can’t believe how whiny he sounds. He has never been on anyone’s mercy before.

You pull the lingerie over your cunt aside, and you watch Hoseok’s eyes widen even more as you slip your wet finger inside you. He jerks forward, only to be held back by the restraints around his wrists.

“Oh please… please…” he implores, “let me taste you please.”

You continue to finger yourself, ignoring his pleas. You push in another finger, and then another, throwing your head back at the stretch. He strains further against his restraints; his desperation could probably power him enough to rip the ropes off.

The squelching sounds your fingers make are so loud in his ears. “Please, please, baby, fuck let me taste you.” He beseeches you. “Please.”

You look down at your lover. You love how needy he is being for you. “Why Daddy? You’re not enjoying the show I’m putting on for you?”

He licks his lips and swallows hard. “I love it baby, I can smell you from here. I just want a taste, please let Daddy have a taste?”

Chuckling, you grab his hair, jerking his head back. Then you pull your fingers out and wipe them on his lips. He pokes his tongue out to desperately lick at the honey smeared around his mouth. You then shove your fingers in, and he immediately sucks on your digits, licking them clean. He closes his eyes and groans at the taste of you. You continue to rut yourself on his chest.

“Taste good, Daddy?” You stroke his hair. He nods meekly. “Do you want more?”

He mumbles his answer around your fingers. “Yes, yes please baby girl.”

You pull your fingers out, now drenched with his saliva. You raise yourself up and shuffle further up so that you’re right above his head. Your teddy is still pushed to the side, and you rub your fingers over your wet slit.

“Shit baby, let me go, let me finger you, hmm?”

“Shut up and enjoy the show.” You plunge your fingers in again, and Hoseok’s moans at the sight drowns out yours. You start to fuck yourself, with your lover underneath watching you, praising you and encouraging you to cum. Just before you reach your peak however, you stop, and you remove your fingers. Wiping them on his mouth, he greedily laps at them again, savoring every drop of your taste you are offering him.

“Such a good Daddy,” you pur, “I haven’t cummed yet, do you want to make me cum with your tongue?”

Hoseok nods zealously. He shifts his body further so that he lies fully on his back, his head flat on your pillows. You can feel his hot breaths on your sex, ready to devour you. You lower yourself to his mouth, and his tongue immediately darts out at your opening, collecting all your leaking juices.

“That’s right Daddy, drink me up.” You rock your hips above him, enjoying his wet organ exploring you. You reach down and pull back the skin above your pussy, revealing your throbbing clit. He moans and clamps his mouth over your nub. He alternates between sucking and flicking it, determined to bring you to orgasm.

“Daddy, that feels so good,” you encourage him, grabbing a fistful of his hair again. “Make me cum with your tongue. Make me feel good, Daddy.”

Hoseok goes into overdrive. His body is tense, vibrating, he is focusing all his might to get you to your climax. And finally he is rewarded. He feels your core drip more as your thighs shake, and then you curse loudly, sending the lights in your room flickering.

Once your heart beat returns to normal, you lie down next to him. Turning his head to face you, you kiss him slowly, savoring your taste on his lips. “Such a good Daddy,” you praise him, “making me cum so good.”

Hoseok beams at your praise. “Untie me, baby girl. I can make you feel even better.”

You tsk at him. “I want to make you suffer more.” Hoseok mewls. You pat his head and look at his bound hands. “Are your wrists hurting?”

He whines louder, mixed with laughter. “I just want to touch you. Please.”

“I like you tied up like this,” you trail your fingers up and down his chest. “I like having you helpless and completely under my control.”

Hoseok shudders all over. He has never felt this desperate before. He just wants to touch you, to pin you down and please you over and over. If only he could get out of the damn restraints.

You can see the desperation in his eyes, and you decide to reward him. You pull down the straps of the teddy off your shoulders, and you smile sinfully as you peel the lace off your breasts, presenting them for his viewing pleasure, but definitely not for touching. Hoseok bites down on his lower lip. You lean over his torso, to reach your bedside table. In doing so, your breasts brush his chin, and he instantly mouths at whatever flesh he can reach, making you giggle.

You dig around the drawer of your bedside table, angling your chest to Hoseok’s mouth so that he can finally capture a nipple. Placing the perky tip between his teeth, he bites down on it to elicit a yelp out of you, before blowing at it and flicking it with his tongue. After grabbing an item from the drawer, you sit back up, and he cries as your nipple leaves his mouth.

“See what I have Daddy.” You show him the item in your hand; it is a small bullet vibrator. You turn it on. The soft whirring fills Hoseok’s ears.

“I didn't know you have toys.”

“Oh, I do.” You shuffle down to his crotch, “I just never need it when I’m with you. You always please me so well. But I think we can have a bit of fun tonight, hmm?”

You place the vibrator on his lower abdomen, just above his boxers. Then you peel the teddy off your body, slowly, giving him a striptease. Once naked, you bring the lingerie to his mouth, and he obediently sucks whatever arousal you have leaked onto the fabric. Satisfied, you then move back down and grab the waistband of his underwear, and you turn to look back at him. His eyes are closed, jaw clenching as the little tremors from the toy run through his body. You pull his boxers down slowly, and his red angry cock pops out and flops over the vibrator, making him groan aloud.

You take the vibrator and run it up and down his length, as you lean down to lick the precum off his tip. His body jerks violently, his hands pulling hard against the ropes.

“Don’t break my bed posts.” You warn him, tapping the vibrator on his cock. “I’ll be very upset.”

“I can buy you a new one.” His breathing is erratic. “Shit, that feels so fucking good.”

“Hmm, does it? How about here?” You move the vibrator to his balls. He screams at once. You laugh mockingly at him. “Oh Daddy, did I almost make you cum?” Hoseok curses.

You press the vibrator back on the base of his cock. “How much do you want to fuck me?”

“So so bad, please. Let me fuck you. Let me feel you on my cock. Please.”

“Will you give your soul to me, for exchange of a fuck?” You tease him.

Hoseok whimpers. “Take everything of me, I’m all yours.”

“Tsk tsk,” you tut. “Did you forget who I am, Daddy? You should never say that to a demon.”

“Not fair, not fair.” Hoseok is breathless. You move the vibrator closer to his balls again, and he sobs. “Ah, I want to cum in your cunt, please. Please.”

“You don’t want my mouth, Daddy?” You give his length a fat lick, while pressing the toy harder onto his testicles. His cock twitches and his body jerks. You see the muscles of his thighs tightening. “You’re not allowed to cum yet, Daddy!”

“I’m fucking trying not to!” Hoseok bellows.

You laugh heartily. “All those times you edged me, this is payback.” You lick the head of his cock, and give it little sucks. He thrashes his head on the pillow.

“Please, please…” he begs again.

“Please what, Daddy?” You are stroking and licking his shaft lazily.

“Suck me or ride me… fuck I don’t care! I just want to be in you, anywhere, please!”

You hum against his length as you move the vibrator to his inner thigh. His legs shake and he lets out a very loud, frustrated moan. You decide that you have teased him enough. Moreover, your sex is sopping wet and throbbing, completely ready for his cock.

Putting the vibrator aside, you straddle him. You both moan as your soaking center meets his hard length. You rock your hips back and fro, coating the whole of his length with your juices. You press down harder on him, sandwiching his cock between the lips of your pussy and his own abdomen.

“Can you feel how wet I am, Daddy? You’re making me so wet.”

Hoseok is unable to reply. You see him biting his lip and closing his eyes so tightly, as if the action would help him stop from climaxing early. You reach down and grab his cock, all slippery and lubricated now. You position the head of his cock at your entrance, then you slowly sink onto him. You stop halfway however, and order him to open his eyes to look at you.

Holding his gaze, you slam your hips down until he fully impales you. He hisses loudly as your tightness envelops him. “So tight, ah fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

You roll your hips as your inner walls continue to squeeze him, almost daring him to come. Then, getting your knees in position, you start riding him. You reach out for your vibrator and turn it back on. You pull back the skin over your clit, and you press the little device on your bud as you continue to bounce on Hoseok’s cock.

Hoseok curses- the feeling of your cunt contracting around his cock and the pulses from the toy is pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He is not sure if he can hold out much longer. You see his face scrunching up, a tell-tale sign that he is close. So you toss the vibrator aside and lean down towards him. Your hips falter a bit, their rhythm slowing down at the new position.

You can hear how wet you are riding his cock. The sounds fill your ears, and combined with the smell of sex in the air, you start to get dizzy. The man underneath you is spewing filth and praises at the same time, heating your body further. Licking your lips, you close your hand around his neck, gently. His eyes widen, but he does not protest. You tighten your grip, and he sucks in a breath audibly. Your thumb grazes his adam apple, before you move up to his pulse point. Your mouth instantly waters at how fast it is pulsating; suddenly, the hunger for his pure soul is getting stronger within you.

Hoseok sees your eyes flash red for a moment, and he calls out your name. “Stay with me,” he whispers. “Baby. I trust you. Stay with me.”

His sweet voice brings you back, and you let go of his neck. Your breath is erratic now, and your hips pause. You shake your head to clear the red haze out of your mind. You look down at your boyfriend, and amidst the lust and the desperation, there is love oozing out for you. You take a deep breath, then placing your hands on his solid chest, you murmur, “Hoseok... Daddy, make me cum.”

Hoseok snaps at your request. He twists his wrists to grip the rope that binds him, and he plants his feet firmly on the bed. Then like a man possessed, he starts jackhammering up into you. You keep your body still above him, giving your body to him fully. You arch your back as his cock continues to bruise your hole, enjoying the sensation as he spears you over and over at a maddening pace. The pressure quickly builds in your core, your pussy clamping down on his member.

Hoseok’s hair is matted on his forehead. Sweat has broken all over his body, his muscles tensing as he feels you getting closer to your climax. He is nearing his peak too, and he wants to free fall with you. “Baby… baby, please… can I cum?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy, fill me with your cum.”

Hoseok snaps his hips faster, and he does not slow down when you finally climax. As the powerful orgasm sweeps through you, you let out a deafening shriek, and red flames engulf your body while your room is enveloped in an unearthly green glow with the shadows emerging, eager to be freed to feed on the lust that fills the air. Hoseok gasps at the sight, but he continues fucking you through your orgasm, until, at long last, he cums in your pussy, shooting his seeds deep into you as he screams your name.

You are brought back at the sound of your name. The fire immediately dies out, the green glow in your room subsides and the shadows disappear as you come down from your high. You can feel Hoseok’s cock throbbing inside you, his cum leaking out from your hole. Stilling your breathing, you reach for his bound hands to free them. His hands collapse onto the bed, his whole body now limp.

You take his hands, concerned in your face as you rub and kiss his wrists, all red from the restraints. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

Hoseok shakes his head, his eyes closed. His whole body is shiny and slick with sweat. “Fuck, that was out of this world.” He manages to say. His chest heaving up and down.

You smile wholeheartedly with relief and bend down to kiss him. “Let me run you a bath, hmm? I’ll give you a nice massage.”

Hoseok opens his eyes. “OK. It’s the least you can do, for almost eating me up alive.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve never cummed so hard before. I totally lost it.”

A tired but proud smile adorns his face. “You should tie me up more often then, you know, to practice your self-control.”

“I can’t agree more.” You kiss him again and again, apologizing between kisses and professing your love to him. The way his lips are melting against yours and how his tongue licks your mouth is stirring your desire again, but you know he will be too out of it. So reluctantly, you remove yourself and head to the bathroom to prepare the bath you have promised.

An hour later, you and Hoseok lie in bed, naked and fresh from your bath together. He spoons you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body. You fall asleep quickly, comfortable and secure in his embrace. When you stir awake at dawn however, those same arms are spreading and pinning your legs down, as his mouth is latched on your pussy.

“Hoseok...” you hoarsely call out his name. You look down to find his eyes staring back at you from between your legs.

“Ah, Daddy, that feels good.. .” You sigh contentedly, surrendering yourself to your lover. He eats you out lazily, until he brings you to an orgasm, nothing as earth shattering as before, but delicious nonetheless. Hoseok then climbs up your body and kneels before you. You eagerly suck him until he pulls back, and then he flips you to get you on your hands and knees. He kisses your neck softly as he pushes himself into you.

“Why do you feel so fucking good?” He moans against your neck, enjoying the way your walls close around him. “What power have you got over me, baby girl?”

You gasp as he slowly pulls out before slamming back in. He threads his fingers in your hair and he pulls it to turn your head sideways so he can kiss you as he drags his cock in and out of you, rubbing that sweet spot inside. He keeps his rhythm slow but with purpose, and before long, you both climax together, then collapsing onto the bed.

The sun breaks into your bedroom as you relax in bed, basking in your post-orgasm haze. Hoseok remains on top of you, his heart beating out of his chest against your back. You wriggle to turn around so you can wrap your arms around him, protesting when he is trying to move, telling him that you love the feel of his weight on top of you.

You stroke his hair, and you feel your chest tightens as he nuzzles your neck.

“Hoseok, thank you for staying with me.” You surprise yourself as you hear your voice breaks. “I know it has not been easy at all.”

Hoseok leans up and looks lovingly at you, his thumb wiping a tear that has escaped your eye. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, baby. Demon or not, you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Happy birthday Hobi 💜

Published 18022021

#thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #thetruthuntoldnet #noonasinnetwork #purplearmynet #hoseok smut #bts smut #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok #bts fanfic

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

Loki Odinson’s Guide on How to Woo a Noble

Chapter 3: The Beauty of Love

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s time for the solstice ball, and you’re the only one Loki wants to go with. All that’s keeping him from a perfect night with you is his own fears that you don’t want the same. Warnings: ‘tis just fluff A/N: This is it: The end of my first miniseries, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you for coming on this journey with me, and I hope you enjoy this last part :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Epilogue

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki’s leg bounced under the table. Just a few more excruciatingly boring minutes and he’d get to be with you. His tutor droned on and on, making him wish his illusions were just a little bit better. Then he could get out of here early. Though he was doing his best to focus, Loki’s mind kept wandering to the plan he was concocting. The summer solstice ball was quickly approaching, now just a few days away. All month Loki had been trying to figure out a way to ask you to accompany him. His birthday was a mere two months away and yours would quickly follow. Then you’d officially be at courting age and he wanted to secure his place as a suitor. The looks that Fandral and the other dashing, young nobles have been sending you did not go unnoticed by the God of Mischief.

“Pssst. Loki,” Thor whispered, tapping his brother on the shoulder. “Are you following any of this?”

“Obviously, Thor. It is not very hard.”

Of course, that was a lie. Well, it may very well have been easy to follow, but Loki’s distracted mind was not allowing him to do so. Thor was scratching his head and looking intensely at his notes, which Loki peered at and realized were little more than scribbles. Though, that might just be Thor’s atrocious handwriting.

“Brother?”

“Yes, Thor?”

“Can I copy your notes?”

“May I copy your notes.”

“But I just asked to copy yours.”

“Yes, Thor, I know. But you asked ‘can I’ when the correct form is ‘may I.’”

Thor scratched his head in confusion again. “So can I then? And, by the way, I don’t appreciate your tone being so condensing.”

“The word is condescending,” Loki sighed. “I honestly do not know how-”

Loki was cut off by their tutor, Lord Asmund, clearing his throat. If looks could kill, Loki and Thor wouldn’t live to see another day. They both gave each other a nervous look, hating for this to be reported to their father, who was very insistent upon them learning Asgard’s history.

“Prince Loki,” Lord Asmund said, “perhaps you could tell me for what purpose the Treaty of Light with Alfheim was made?”

“To set up a trade route?” Loki guessed

“No. Thor?”

“For, uh. Um. Wait! To... No idea,” he ended with slumped shoulders.

“Of course not,” he said with an exasperated eye-roll. “The correct answer is to settle a land dispute. And you can both write me an essay about it due on Monday. Dismissed.”

The brothers gathered their belongings in their arms and headed out the door. Loki sped up, trying to avoid Thor, but he ran after him. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have minded some advice on how to ask you out, but that would surely be accompanied with teasing. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Thor wanted to talk about.

“So, brother, have you invited anyone to the ball yet?”

“Maybe, maybe not. And you?”

“Sadly for many of the ladies, yes I have. Sif and I will be going together.”

“I see. Hypothetically, if I had not asked anyone out yet and wanted to, how would I go about doing that?”

“The same way I have been telling you since the beginning. Just be your charming self and ask them. They’ll say yes to you, you know.”

“I do not know who you are talking about,” Loki lied, still not wanting to confirm his brother’s suspicions.

“Uh-huh. Listen, Loki, you can do it. I know you can,” Thor comforted his brother. He saw his friends approaching and started jogging to them. “Good luck!” he called over his shoulder.

Loki snuck away before they could invite him to join in whatever brutish activity they had planned. Heading into the lavish library, Loki breathed in the calming scent of old books. He trailed his fingers along the binding while walking towards the bay window where you were supposed to meet. You were already sitting there, legs hugged to your chest, and a book perched on your knees. Lupus was sprawled on the floor, bathing in a patch of sunlight. He perked up upon noticing Loki, alerting you to his presence. Loki sank down onto the cushion next to you, and the wolf pup jumped into his lap. The god’s face lit up when you looked at him with a radiant smile.

“How’d your lesson go?” you asked, closing your book.

“Fine, I suppose,” he replied while distractedly petting Lupus.

“But?”

“But I was getting a little distracted,” he conceded, nervously looking away. “I could not stop thinking about the solstice ball.”

“I see. Is your date giving you trouble?”

“My-my date?” he questioned, voice cracking. “I-I don’t have one yet. Do you?”

“Oh. You hadn’t mentioned anything, so I just assumed. I don’t have one either.”

You both looked out the window, Lupus’s pants the only sound in the library. He looked at you in confusion, wondering why the mood had changed. Loki was confused, too, though for a different reason. He was fairly certain that someone had asked you already, though he supposed it was possible you declined. Fandral had seemed pretty downtrodden a few days ago. Though why would you turn down your other options unless...

“Would you like to go with me?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes!” you replied, a little too excitedly. You calmed down a bit before continuing, “I mean, yes, I would love to go with you.”

You began to excitedly plan for the upcoming night. Naturally, the two of you coordinated outfits, and you’d be wearing Loki’s colors. As the prince’s date you’d be required to make a grand entrance, which admittedly, both you and Loki would prefer to skip. Sure, he loved the attention, but anything he did would certainly be overshadowed by his brother. Yet another reminder that he’d never be as beloved as Thor. That he’d never get what he wanted. Though, he realized, that wasn’t entirely true. After all, you were going to the ball with him, not his brother, which counted for more than it perhaps should have. But, right now, sitting here with you, with the sunlight reflecting in your eyes, meant more than the whole world.

The conversation was flowing so easily between you that Frigga had to enlist a servant to summon you for dinner. Everyone was eating by the time you arrived, and Loki slinked up to the head table, taking his seat. Odin greeted him with a glare out of the corner of his eye. Loki was sure he’d be getting a lecture later, but the extra time with you was worth it. His mother gave him a knowing smile that made him flustered, certain that she’d be asking for details later.

“So,” Thor asked after a few minutes, drawing out the “o” in an exaggerated manner. “How did it go?”

“Quite well,” Loki confessed. “They have agreed to accompany me.”

“See, brother? You should listen to me more often.”

“I doubt that. Thank you, though,” Loki begrudgingly added. “For your support and advice.”

“Of course. What are brothers for?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently, brothers were not for helping when one of them was extremely stressed out. Loki had checked himself in the mirror multiple times before leaving the room, but he still felt paranoid that there was something wrong with his appearance. It certainly didn’t help that Thor kept telling him he had a hair out of place or a loose buckle on his armor. In retaliation, he turned Thor’s cape bright pink, but his mother was quick to fix it with a spell of her own and a warning look. At least Odin hadn’t noticed. With only a few moments left before it was time to enter the ballroom, Loki began to pace. You’d yet to arrive, and he began to worry you decided that you didn’t want to accompany him, after all. He had no doubt that you were friends, but this would take things to another level. For all means and purposes, this was a date, and it was entirely possible you didn’t want everyone to see you together, considering that all your meetings to date had been rather clandestine.

“Relax my son,” Frigga assured him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder to still his nervous movements. “They will be here.”

Thor peered over his shoulder and gave him an encouraging thumbs up, attempting to make up for earlier after seeing how truly distressed his brother was. Loki nodded gravely, not sharing the same faith that his family did. Yes, he was a prince, but to be honest, the lesser one. Everyone knew Odin favored Thor as the next king, and in turn, the subjects adored him far more than they ever did Loki. Before his mind could stray any further, your shoes were rapidly clicking on the polished tile floor as you ran down the hall, a hand grasping your circlet to make sure it didn’t fall off.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you said to Loki after greeting the royal family with the proper respect. “I had a slight wardrobe malfunction, but it’s all good now. Sorry that I kept you waiting.”

“It is quite alright,” he replied while Thor snickered, knowing how troubled he’d been mere seconds ago. “Might I just say, you look absolutely stunning.”

“Thanks Loki. You too,” you responded, shyly looking away.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Odin gruffly said to the small group.

Following the king’s orders, the assembled pairs lined up behind the large doors leading to the grand stairs of the ballroom. Having the least status in the royal family, Loki had to go first. You gave his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before placing your arm on top of his in the proper, formal manner.

Loki squinted against the bright lights of the room as the steward announced your arrival. There was a polite smattering of applause as you descended the stairs. As expected, the crowd was much more enthused by the arrival of the elder prince, and Loki sulked while his brother followed the path he’d just taken. You gently bumped him with your shoulder, offering a kind look as Odin began his speech from the landing. Though, Loki didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying. He had no need to; it was the same as every other year.

Then came the first dance, Loki’s favorite part of the night. The royal family walked out to the center of the dance floor. Once they were in place, the musicians came to life and an ethereal waltz tune filled the air. Loki placed one hand on your waist and the other grasped your hand, while your free one was lightly resting on his shoulder. Your two bodies became one as you spun around the floor, lost in each other’s eyes.

“You know,” you ventured, “you really shouldn’t let what others think affect you so much. You do believe me when I tell you how amazing you are, right?”

“I thought I was not supposed to listen to what others think of me,” Loki said, trying to make light of the situation by teasing you, in the hopes of avoiding having to actually talk about his feelings.

“Well, this is different because it’s a fact,” you persisted as Loki blushed. “You really are amazing.”

Before he could say anything else, the music stopped and a new dance begun, one where you switched partners. You threw him a look that said “we are not done talking about this.” He was having mixed feelings at the moment. On the one hand, he was able to dodge a conversation about his emotions for the time being. On the other, he couldn’t spend this dance with you as his partner. Eventually, you made your way back to him and the dance came to an end. He whisked you away to the edge of the room where you could rest out of the public eye for a minute. Though it was highly improper, you and Loki made comments about the rest of the guests, being careful that no one overheard you. At some point, you were able to circle back around to Loki’s lack of faith in himself.

“I am not sure this is the best place to discuss this,” he said, trying to buy himself more time.

“You’re right,” you agreed, fiddling with the bracelet he’d given you, which you’d yet to take off. “Join me for a walk?”

Between the innocent look in your eye and the proposition of alone time with you, Loki couldn’t refuse. The night air was warm as the two of you made your way down the cobblestone path of the garden. Reaching a bench, you stopped for a spell, feet tired from all the dancing and standing around.

“If you really are correct,” Loki began after a short silence, during which you absentmindedly rested your head on his shoulder, “and I am amazing, why does no one else seem to see it?”

You considered his question for a second before picking your head up and looking into his eyes. Such a scrutinizing gaze would usually have made Loki defensive, but he recognized the soft undertones of yours, leaving him with just a worry that you wouldn’t like whatever it was you were looking for.

“I don’t know, really,” you finally admitted. “Maybe because for all your supposed confidence, you don’t really see it either. Or, who knows, maybe they’re just jealous.”

He considered that for a moment, simultaneously loving and hating how astute your deductions were. At least, on the first account. And he did often believe others envied him for the few talents he would admit he truly possessed.

“Maybe,” was all he said.

“Yeah, maybe,” you echoed, placing a hand over his.

Loki’s cheeks flushed again, and he looked at you. You really were beautiful, inside and out. It was a pity, he thought, that people usually only recognized the latter. Though, it made him feel honored that you let him get close enough to you that he could see the former as well. As he was observing you, you turned your head up to look at the sky, presumably thinking of the first time you’d met. He knew he was. The motion upset your circlet, and it slid out of place. Loki went to fix it, but as he was doing so, got an even better idea.

“What are you doing?” you inquired, fixing him with an inquisitive look as he took off the accessory.

“I just thought you might look even better in this,” he answered.

He took off his helmet and put it on your head. It was ever so slightly too large and slid down a bit farther than it should. It only served to make you more adorable, Loki thought. You looked at him for a second as if trying to make up your mind about something. Then you suddenly rushed forward and placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. It was enough to make you both fidget and chuckle sheepishly.

Loki stood up after a moment, making up his own mind about something. He placed another kiss, to your knuckles this time, and asked, “Shall we return to the ball?”

“We shall,” you answered, beaming at how self-assured he seemed.

You went back hand in hand and made it to the center of the floor just in time for the final dance. Both of you danced so beautifully that every other guest stopped to admire your grace. As you finished, they erupted into the loudest round of applause that evening.

“Loki,” you gasped later that evening as he walked you back to your quarters. “I’m still wearing your helmet!”

“It is alright, darling. Trust me when I say you look quite ravishing. And,” he added after a split second of hesitation, “I hope you know how amazing you are, too.”

As you stopped in front of your door, Loki leaned in, and you finally met in a long-overdue, sweet, gentle, loving kiss.

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joonsgotthejuice · 4 years

Text

Early Celebration

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Words: 1.1k

Genre: Smut

Summary: He should wait until you're back home, but Taehyung couldn't help himself when you looked this good and he's had quite a bit to drink.

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Semi-Public Sex, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, smug Taehyung (yes that's a warning, it's v lethal)

A/N: My friends encouraged me to write my first BTS smut drabble, gonna post this and hide away forever lol but I hope you enjoy <3

A group dinner was a must after a sweep like tonight. The Daesangs kept piling up much like the bottles of soju sitting on the table. Everyone was at least 3 bottles in and the private room was full of laughter and the smell of grilling meat. Your head lays on Taehyung’s shoulder, eyes closed as you listened to the deep bass of his voice. His presence alone was calming but his voice could put you to sleep instantly.

You were actually halfway there when you felt a hand on your thigh. Your eyes shoot open quickly and you lift your head to look at your boyfriend but his eyes stay on Jin who was saying something about a wardrobe malfunction he had before their stage. Maybe he was innocently resting his hand there, but you should’ve known better than that.

There was a certain look in Taehyung’s eyes when he’s really enjoying a view. It varied depending on the subject he was admiring, but with you it was a piercing gaze. As if he was undressing you in his mind, looking beyond the fabric that covered your figure from him. Tonight’s ensemble was a black dress with a thigh-high front slit. It hugged your curves just right and showed a fair amount of cleavage without being too over the top. It was simple enough for you to blend into the audience at the award show but showed enough skin that you knew as Taehyung sat with his fellow idols watching the show, he was thinking of you. You caught him glancing over at the section you were seated in every time he came back from accepting an award. His eyes scanning but unable to find you. But now he has you in his sights, and he plans to act on those thoughts that tortured him throughout the night.

His hand creeps higher and higher and without a word leaving his lips you spread your legs to welcome his actions. A small smirk appears on his face at that as his finger starts to lightly tease you.

You rest your head on your forearms, hiding your face from the rest of the table as Tae applies more pressure with his fingers. You managed to catch yourself before you started grinding against his fingers, eager to feel more of him and be done with the teasing already. The laughs of the others suddenly felt amplified and you remember exactly where you are. Almost as if he reads your mind, Tae whispers in your ear.

“Relax, it’s okay. Daddy never leads you astray, right?”

His words did the trick and the tension in your body dissipates.

“That’s my girl. Can you be quiet?”

You nod your head.

“You sure?”

You nod again.

That was all Tae needed to know. He straightens up again and jumps back into the conversation as he pulls your panties to the side. The sensation you get from feeling Tae’s fingers on your bare clit while in a room full of his bandmates was a thrill you didn’t expect to like so much. Every circle of his fingers feels electric running through your veins.

“Everything good?”

At first Namjoon’s question doesn’t cause any alarm, but then Jimin chimes in.

“Yeah, her head has been down for a while.”

They were asking about your well-being, while you currently had Tae’s fingers circling your clit. Before you could panic too much, your boyfriend replies like the quick-thinking smug bastard he is.

“Just a bit tired, no worries. I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“You two are so cute.” Hobi coos happily, words slurred from the alcohol.

“We are, aren’t we?” Tae replies, you can almost hear the smug smirk on his face.

You want to smack that smirk clean off his face but then his fingers are curling and you swear you see stars for 2 seconds as a whine leaves you.

“Getting hard to stay quiet, hm?” Tae purrs in your ear, “You’re lucky the others are drunk and unable to catch onto anything right now.”

A shudder runs down your spine as his deep voice fills your ear. You can hear how turned on he was by the husk in his voice.

“It’s taking everything in me right now to not just drag you home and fuck you against the wall. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I saw you in this dress.” He continues, fingers starting to pick up speed.

You dig your nails into your forearms, trying to ground yourself and stop the cry that desperately wants to leave you from escaping.

“Or maybe you prefer this? I don’t think you’ve ever soaked my fingers this fast before. Do you like it? The possibility of being caught? The thrill of knowing only you and I are aware of what’s going on under the table?”

You feel his smirk against your ear as he keeps talking.

“You do like it. What a naughty girl. My sweet obedient baby girl. Always willing to listen to Daddy. What if Daddy told you to cum right now, would you listen to him? Will you be good for me?” He lightly tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, a dark chuckle coming from his lips.

You knew if you opened your mouth you would only moan and alert everyone to what was happening. The only thing you could do was clench your fists.

“Do you want to cum, yes or no? I won’t be upset if you say no.” Tae’s tone softens as he checks in on you.

He loved being rough and taking control but he always wanted to make sure you were okay with what was happening. A quick nod was all he needed before he redoubles his efforts. Two fingers knuckle deep inside you while his palm worked at your clit.

“Cum.” He growls into your ear.

As always your body listens and you’re pretty sure you blacked out for 5 seconds from the intensity of your orgasm. When you can finally assess your surroundings, you hear loud laughing from the others and the sound of more meat grilling.

You lift your head a bit to look at Taehyung who was already staring at you like he wanted to bend you over the table and fuck the life out of you. However, he is a man of restraint. Instead of acting on his true desire, he just lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

You blush deeply as you look down at your lap. Tae slides a glass of water your way.

“Hydrate. You’re not heading home tomorrow, right?” Tae asks.

You can only shake your head no as you take small sips from the glass.

“Good. I think we should break out the spreader, don’t you?” Tae suggests.

The casual tone of voice would make you think he’s speaking about the weather and not a sex toy.

It’s gonna be a long night.

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts smut

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maknaesdancersrappers · 4 years

Text

Devoted 2.

part 10

Overall warning/s: kinkier smut (eg. voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc.) character death, dark themes

Chapter warning/s: vulgar language, violence

Just how devoted is Jaehyun to you?

prev: part 9

wc: 6.3k

You, your mom, Jaehyun’s mom, Yebin, and Minkyung had arrived at the resort a little past noon and were immediately served lunch as the resort staff brought your bags to the room. After eating and resting for a bit, Jaehyun’s mom led everyone to where the wedding venue could be and visualized it for them.

The pathway to the recreational garden had butterfly bushes on each side that lead to a spacious circular area that could fit just enough for your target wedding entourage. There was a gorgeous fountain offset from the center of the area that had beautiful, healthy, large kois swimming about in the basin and a metal fence that had Chinese honeysuckles creeping through the bars that separated the area from the beach.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Jaehyun’s mom turned to you, eyes sparking and hopeful. A resort staff brings over a tray of champagne for everyone and leaves after everyone has their own glass.

“It’s beautiful, definitely.” You looked up at the looming cherry blossom trees over the fountain, imagining what it would look like when spring comes with the petals filling each basin and flowing down with the water. “But I feel like there’s something missing.”

Minkyung took pictures for you on your phone to send to Jaehyun and for his mom to use as reference for planning. “What’s the color scheme again?”

“Pink and gray.” You answer, although a bit unsure if you wanted to push through with it. “Unless it’s too pink? With the cherry blossoms and all?”

“It depends on the shade of pink you want.” Jaehyun’s mom interjects, “I suggest something a bit deeper… like watermelon.”

“Wouldn’t that be red already?” Yebin curiously speaks up, already finished with her drink, hanging it haphazardly by the flute’s foot between her fingers.

“No, not literally watermelon red.” You explain, “It’s a darker shade of pink. Ah, I wish I had my paint swatches.”

She waves her other hand, “No, no, it’s okay. Just don’t make me wear anything short as a bridesmaid.”

“Isn’t the trend to use infinity dresses for bridesmaid gowns? That was my plan.” You walked over to her and linked your arm with hers. The sea breeze was cool despite the afternoon sun; it was a perfect day to lounge by the pool or wade in the shallow waters of the beach. You leaned your head on Yebin’s shoulder and sighed, “I don’t think I want to get married here. It’s a nice venue, maybe for a reception, but not the ceremony.”

“Then let’s go to my aunt’s place! I haven’t even been there, but knowing her, it’ll be gorgeous.” Yebin leans back on you, “She’s a landscaper.”

The private property was completely walled off with 2-story cement walls with vines creeping up from the ground. From the metal gates up to the parking space in front of the house were tall pine trees and the road leading up to the majestic water fountain surrounded by rose bushes was gray gravel. There was a woman that stood just where the gravel stopped and was replaced by ceramic tiles; she had salt and pepper pixie cut hair and wore high waist trousers with a simple tank top. Something about her screamed ‘boss bitch’ and you’re not doubting she’s related to Yebin.

“Eunyong!” Jaehyun’s mom greets once the car comes to a stop, throwing her hands up as the woman approaches her. They kiss their cheeks and hug each other, “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, honey, you know this is nothing. Who is she? Who’s the lucky girl marrying your son?”

Jaehyun’s mom holds her hand out to you and you bashfully greet her, “Hello. I’m [Y/N].”

“To be marrying Jung Jaehyun and having his mom plan the wedding?” She takes your hands and smiles fondly at you, “You’re a lucky girl. You must be so happy.”

“I still can’t believe it myself.” You admit, “Thank you, again, for lending your property.”

“Anything for the Jungs. Oh, Yebin! What a small world, you’re friends with [Y/N]?”

Yebin gives her aunt a kiss on the cheek, “We were roommates all our college life with Minkyung.” She gestures to her, who bows her head in greeting.

“My! I think I’ve seen you in a fashion show in Europe, my dear.”

Minkyung blushes, “Well, I am a model.”

After you introduce your mom and a few more pleasantries, Eunyeong gives you a tour of her property. She first led everyone to the 3-story mansion and explained that it had 15 ensuite bedrooms, 4 extra bedrooms, and the first floor was mostly an open living area with a luxurious kitchen and pantry to the right and an olympic sized pool, with half under the building and the other half exposed under the sun. She then walked through the marbled floors, guiding everyone to the garden. Like the resort, there were hedges that separated the grass from the sandy beach. Tall trees, among them were cherry blossoms, were lined along the walls and varieties of bushes and shrubs grew beneath them.

“This area is a blank canvas for you, [Y/N].” Eunyeong puts a hand on your shoulder, gesturing to the wide space of grass in front of them. “Tell me what the color scheme is and I’ll have the perfect flowers ordered so they’ll be ready by the wedding.”

“Pink and gray, but I’m still on the fence about it.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll take care of it. I have a few ideas already.” Jaehyun’s mom assures you, opening the iPad she had and taking a picture of the landscape. “And if you’re still unsure, then it’s fine. We have months to go.”

A ringtone erupts from behind you and Minkyung exclaims, “Oh, [Y/N]! Jaehyun is calling!”

You had almost forgotten she had your phone, thanking her as she hands you the phone and you take a few steps away from them to answer the call. “Babe?”

“Hi, baby. Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“I’m alright. I was going to send you pictures so you can help me decide but,” You paused; staring at the open garden. Eunyong was right, it was like a blank canvas. You weren’t able to visualize it awhile ago, but now that you’re hearing Jaehyun’s voice, your mind just paints the picture in your head and it almost makes you tear up, “I think this is where I want to marry you.”

“Is it that beautiful?” There was that specific teasing tone in his voice that you would have rolled your eyes at, but instead you let yourself chuckle, eyes still fixated forward; taking notice of the waves past the green hedges.

“It’s perfect.”

After meeting with Eunyong and having a meal there, they return back to the resort where the mothers spent most of their day at the spa, while the quote-unquote younger generation lounged by the pool to get a tan. Yebin and Minkyung tried to plan a bachelorette party, but you turned them down, not wanting one at all. They all met up again for dinner, enjoying the 5-course meal by the window that opened up to the beach. Minkyung and Yebin fill the silence with stories from their work; Minkyung shares some runway mishaps and minor wardrobe malfunctions she’s had and Yebin tells them about the business ventures she’s been tackling. When it came to you, you expressed your concerns about starting your own company, adding the fact it stemmed from Jaehyun’s wishes for you to stay at home instead. You couldn’t help but catch the disappointed and worried look on his mother’s face before she covered it up by drinking her glass of wine.

When they all retreat into their suite, Jaehyun’s mom opted to head out to the balcony and sit out there. You hadn’t paid much attention to it, going to your room to get ready for bed, but when you’ve done your nightly routine and talked a bit with Jaehyun on the phone, you stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You slipped out of your room, thinking Jaehyun’s mom must have gone to bed, until you were proven wrong as you see her still seated outside holding herself from the cold, night air. Grabbing a spare blanket from the cabinets, you walked over to her and put it over her shoulders.

“Mrs. Jung, you’ll get sick.” You quietly said, taking a seat on the adjacent chair.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re marrying my son. You can call me mom or mother now.” She softly chuckles, “And I hadn’t realized that I’ve been out here for too long. I just remembered something, that’s all.”

“If you’d like, you could talk about it to me.” You offered, folding your hands over your lap, “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s not best to go to sleep with a heavy heart.”

“It’s nothing, dear, you don’t have to worry.” She looks over to the dark abyss of the night sea, unable to see the waves crashing into the shore despite hearing them clear as day. Every now and then an owl hoots somewhere in the trees. She looks back at you with a smile, eyes tired from the day’s activities, “How about you, dear? It seems like you can’t sleep either.”

You wanted to tell her everything; from what Jaehyun had done in college to the current issue at hand. This woman is going to be your in-law, yet she’d been acting like your second mother since you’ve met her. A part of you always feared she’d be wicked and mean towards you, but all those thoughts were thrown out the window once you got to know her more.

“I…” You started off, and her perfect brow just lifted up ever so slightly, “I know about Jaehyun’s disorder; the BPD.”

In an instant, there was shock in her eyes as if she had heard you wrong, but then it morphed into something similar to fear. “Oh. H-how did…?”

So you told her everything you could in the steadiest voice you can muster; from the incident in college, to the therapy sessions, to the threats against you, you told her everything and it amazes you that you were able to admit it without crying. You’re not going to lie; telling someone else felt relieving, especially since it’s someone who knows Jaehyun — literally raised him. You only stopped when you noticed her eyes tearing up and you internally panicked.

“You know about my son’s condition?” Her lips quivered, brows finally burrowed and a hand flies over her mouth to contain her sob.

“M-mother…” You stuttered, holding your hands out to her. “I— no matter what happens, I’m not going to tell anyone else about it, I promise—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” She quietly cries, “All these years, I’ve feared my son won’t be able to find someone to love and understand him. [Y/N], you’re godsent. You know what goes through his head… he’s shown you what he could do… yet you stayed? You still want to marry him?”

This makes you tear up, somewhat understanding the fear of a mother for their child. “I’ve thought about it for so long honestly, but no matter what excuses I come up with, I can’t imagine a future without him.”

She cries a little harder, hiding her face into her palms. You move to sit beside her, putting an arm around her and hugging her gently. After a while, you pull away and she looks at you with a smile. “Thank you for loving my son.”

“Thank you for giving birth to him.”

This makes both of you laugh as she pulls you into a hug, “[Y/N], sweetheart, if ever his BPD acts up, if he ever scares you again, please come to me, okay?”

You replied with a promise, hugging back and feeling your eyes stinging at the sudden weight being lifted over your chest.

“Now,” She says, pulling away and holding onto your shoulders, “Tell me more about these threats. I can’t believe Jaehyun wouldn’t tell us about it.”

“He probably thinks he has it under control and I trust him. We don’t want any of you to worry.”

“That’s nonsense! We’re your parents, we’re always worried about you.” She scolds, “But knowing Jaehyun, he probably has done the most he can do. I’m sure this issue will be resolved soon… and I’m sorry for the things Jaehyun has done in the past. I wish I could say I would have done something to stop him, but his father—”

She stops mid-sentence, lashes fluttering as she realizes the words that were about to come out of her mouth. She inhales deeply, “You’re marrying into the family. You have the right to know. Most of the Jungs have BPD; it’s horrible that it’s genetic, but with proper therapy it would mean nothing.”

You licked your lips, already knowing this fact. “So… Jaehyun’s father…”

“His father and I were arranged to be married. It made sense because our parents were business partners so we didn’t have any qualms on it, his father was quite handsome — I’d have to admit that Jaehyun is practically the carbon copy of him now. But then eventually, I learned that his father had personally requested to have us arranged. When I confronted him about it, he chalked it up to him liking me but being shy around me. He first showed me his true colors when he demanded me to quit my work; I’m an event planner, I travel all around the country for my work if needed and he didn’t like that. He accused me of cheating and such, which were all false of course, but he just couldn’t believe it. He started getting angry, very vocal, never laid a hand on me though, but I still got scared. It was when we found out that I was pregnant with Jaehyun that he finally told me everything about him, how he was scared he’d inherit it. That was the first time I’ve seen him so vulnerable and raw. It was then I decided to obey him and quit my job.”

“I thought you left your job to take care of Jaehyun.”

“No,” She sighs, “I left my job because his father told me to.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

You smiled, although your brows were furrowed. It was Monday morning and you were preparing lunch since Kyungwon was coming over to work things out for Yuta’s apartment. Jaehyun was supposed to arrive later that evening until you received a call from him and put him on speaker.

“Jaehyun, it’s fine. I understand. Work is work. Do what you have to do.” But you have to admit you’re a little disappointed his trip had to be extended for a few more days since he had to go to China to meet up with Sicheng.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to. Just stay safe, okay?” You silently hissed when you accidentally touched the metal knob of the pot lid. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Tell Kyungwon I said hi.”

“Okay. Bye, baby.” You glanced over to your phone and waited for him to drop the call before checking the penne pasta you’ve been boiling. Kyungwon had originally told you to come to the office, but you insisted she came over instead and she had no qualms about it. You’ve already laid out your laptop and papers on half of the dining table so you two could get things done quickly.

She arrives a little past twelve since she came from the office and right off the bat, you could tell something was off with her. She was still her bubbly self, but something wasn’t right. You couldn’t question her about it because she commented about being hungry and it would be rude to keep your guest waiting for food.

“Oh my god! So you’ve chosen a wedding location already? Ah! [Y/N], I’m so excited for you!” She squeals, vibrating in her seat so hard that the pasta she’s stabbed through her fork has fallen back onto the plate. “And a spring wedding? Gosh! It’s going to be beautiful.”

“Enough about me, Kyung. How about you? What’s been going on back at the office? Are the old employees back?”

“Yes. Ugh! Somehow they got it into their heads that they’re so great because they got rehired by the company.” She scowls, rolling her eyes and shoving pasta into her mouth. “But aside from that, it's the same old, same old. Oh! Eunbi from finance is pregnant with her rebound.”

“Rebound? She broke up with her boyfriend?”

Kyungwon shakes her head with a smug look on her face, “No, honey, her boyfriend dumped her last month.”

“Oh my god, is the rebound going to take responsibility?”

“It looks like it. She’s a lot happier — and good for her! Her ex was rude whenever he got invited to any of our hangouts.”

You nod your head, picking up your glass of water, “So how about you? Have you gotten laid yet?”

She uncharacteristically falls silent, eyebrows shooting up to her forehead as she avoids your gaze momentarily until she snaps it back to meet your stare. In one breath, she says: “Okay, don’t be mad but I slept with Yuta.”

You pushed your chair back, trying to hold yourself back from spitting the water you had just drank. After forcefully swallowing, you breathed in deeply and looked back at Kyungwon, who now covered her blushing face with her hands. “Whoa.”

“You said it was okay!”

“I’m not scolding you!”

She threw herself back on the seat and whined, “I’ve kept this secret for so long since I can’t blab about it back in the office. Oh, [Y/N], he’s a fucking god.”

You pursed your lips, “I don’t think I need to know the details about my client’s sex life.”

“Okay, but he’s a fucking god.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s either that’s true or you’ve been out of the game for too long.”

“Please. None of my exes can compare to what that man did to me.” Her dreamy smile slowly falls, “But we made it strictly physical and he seems pretty closed off, too.”

“Wait, it wasn’t just a one night stand?”

She flicks her hair off her shoulder and clicks her tongue, “I guess he’s lonely, too.”

“But good for you, Kyungwon. At least you’re getting laid.”

“Why do you sound like you’re not getting laid? You’re getting married to a Greek god.”

“It’s not that.” You laughed, “Did it sound like that? It’s just because he’s overseas at the moment and I’m feeling lonely.”

Kyungwon snorts, side-eyeing you as she takes a drink from her glass. “Honey, don’t tell me you solely depend on Jaehyun to get off.”

“I—” You feel your face heat up. Come to think of it, you haven’t masturbated in a while. You’ve touched yourself, but those were in front of him and he’d never let you come undone with your fingers alone. “Well, no, I don’t. I can do it on my own, but it’s just not gratifying.”

“Is it bad that I’m curious what he’s like in bed?”

“Only if you try to find out.”

“God, no, of course not.” She recoils, “Just one of the many curiosities I have that I won’t act on. This thing with Yuta is a weekly thing, you know. Unless he calls me.”

You finish your meal, “You’re a booty call.”

“I’d do anything for that dick.”

“Hey, he’s our client, remember. Don’t get hypnotized by the dick.”

“Oh, [Y/N], if you only knew.” She lets out a dreamy sigh and you laugh, throwing your napkin at her.

“I don’t plan to. Get your head out of his pants, we have to work on his apartment.”

After putting away your dishes, you and Kyungwon began to work; making final checks for orders and deliveries, browsing for more design pieces, and the likes. It took longer than you two expected, extending up two hours than what you had originally planned. You finally decided to stop when you spy from the corner of your eye Kyungwon stifling a yawn, uploading all your work onto the shared drive between the three of you before stretching your arms upwards.

“Are you hungry?”

“Please tell me you have some good ol’ ramen in your pantry.”

You scoffed, “Of course, I do. I’ll go make some right now.”

You have the ramen cooked and ready for consumption in no time; each of you had a full bowl with a few side dishes you were able to put together while the water boiled. Instead of work, you and Kyungwon talked about your new house; told her about the materials you wanted, your plans for each room, the layout, and she even offered her own insight that you considered.

“4 bedrooms on the second floor?”

“Well, 3 bedrooms and the nursery. The fourth room will be turned to a walk-in closet for me and Jaehyun to share.”

“Oh my god, that would be a dream to design!”

You purse your lips, “Well, the two extra rooms are for our future kids. I’m sure they’ll want to renovate as they grow older. Would you like to work on their rooms when the time comes?”

She fakes a gasp, covering her mouth, “I would be honored! But gosh, when’s this happening? In 20 years?”

Both of you laugh as you finish your noodles. Kyungwon offered to do the dishes, but you refused, and fortunately, she received a call from a different client that forced her to leave. She thanked you for the day and you walked to the door, where both of you were surprised to see Hyunwoo about to ring the bell.

“Good evening, ma’am. These came in for you.” He smiles, holding out the flowers and teddy bear.

“Oh, thank you.” You glanced at Kyungwon, showing your confusion at the situation.

“I’m totally not jealous that your fiance sent you apology gifts for not coming home today.” She shrugs her shoulders, feeling the teddy bear’s ear between her fingertips. “But I’m oddly really happy for you. See you soon, [Y/N].”

You kiss her cheek and wave her goodbye, “See you, Kyungwon.”

After they leave, you heaved a sigh and inspected the gifts. Red roses, like always, and a pretty hefty teddy bear. You thought it was odd, but Jaehyun has his cheesy moments, excusing the teddy bear as a stand in for himself so you won’t get lonely until he gets home. You walk back to the dining table to put the gifts down and pick up your phone, dialling his number to thank him, but the call wouldn’t connect. He’s either on the plane already or he doesn’t have a signal. Instead, you put the flowers in a vase and placed it on the dining table as a centerpiece.

Before having a late dinner of some scrambled eggs and spam, you worked on both the interior of the mansion and looking for a wedding gown inspo. Sooyeon told you to prepare what you had in mind for a wedding gown and she’ll hook you up with any of the top wedding dress designers in the industry. You’re torn between empire and A-line dresses, liking both fits on your body but couldn’t decide which is better for the theme. You also didn’t know if you wanted lace or tulle, what type of neckline, the accents, etc. All the dresses looked so good and you already know not to bring it up to Jaehyun because he’ll make some bullshit excuse to buy all of them. Although you don’t mind having different dresses; like changing into something more simple for the reception. You were also concerned about what shoes to wear since it’s a garden wedding, you wouldn’t be able to wear heels that you would have preferred.

You have a shower before heading to bed, taking your time in lathering your body with lavender-scented body wash to help you relax. After breezing through your nighttime routine, you walked out to the bed while tugging your hair loose from the haphazardly tied bun you put in. Seeing the empty bed reminded you of the teddy bear you had received earlier and you quickly went out of the room to grab it on the dining table to retrieve it. You weren’t really going to sleep with it, but you’d like to put it on the accent chair you had on the opposite side of the room.

Your phone rings just as you were about to put on some lotion and you smile to yourself seeing Jaehyun’s name. You put him on loudspeaker, “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, baby.” His voice drawls, “Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier. I was on the plane and I couldn’t get to you when I landed because Sicheng and his friends took me to a bar.”

“Jaehyun, baby, are you drunk right now?”

“No, baby, just a little tipsy. Did you get my little gift? Toss the old flowers out.”

“You didn’t have to, but thanks.” You hummed, unscrewing the cap of your favorite body butter tin. “Where are you now?”

“Don’t worry, I’m already at my hotel room. I wanted to hear your voice before I go to sleep.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He pauses on the other side of the line and you hear what sounded like him getting into bed, “Were you about to go to sleep, too?”

“Yeah, I’m just putting lotion on.”

A long, low moan echoes from your phone and you halt your movements. A tipsy, lonely Jaehyun could only mean one thing.

“Baby, can we video call?”

The next two days were uneventful; you visited the mansion to oversee the renovations being done and was pleased to see it going smoothly as it was exactly as you envisioned it. Other than that, you also spent a lot of time going through IKEA and other home decor stores, picking out possible pieces you’d purchase. It’s still a stressful thought to think you have an entire mansion to design AND you get to live in it. Whenever you had clients for projects like these, you always mused to yourself how you would like it if you were the one living in the said space but now that the time has come, you’re overwhelmed.

Just as you got home, you get a call from Jaehyun.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey. I just got home.” You closed the door and locked it, while kicking your shoes off.

“Oh, good. Could you do me a favor? There’s an important file on my computer that I forgot to upload to the drive. Do you mind sending it to Sicheng using my email?”

“Sure, which file is it?”

As Jaehyun explains the file to you, you made your way to his office and flipped the light switch on. Plopping yourself down on his chair, you powered up his computer and waited for it to start. Meanwhile, you two updated each other of your days and plans for tomorrow.

“Okay, I found the file. What’s Sicheng’s email?” You typed in the address after Jaehyun dictates and clicked send. “Done! Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Jaehyun chuckles, whispering into the phone, “You can be ready in bed when I come home on Friday.”

“Alright, sir.” You purred, leaning back on his chair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you on Friday.”

After hanging up, you reach for the mouse to turn the computer off until your eyes gloss over the name ‘Jeong Yoonoh’ as one of the names listed in Jaehyun’s mailboxes. You remember seeing it a few weeks ago and it completely left your mind, but now you’re curious about it. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth; it’s wrong to snoop around Jaehyun’s email like this, but you give into temptation anyway.

A relieved and incredulous sigh leaves you when you spot the prominent subject and sender, even letting out a little chuckle when you see the dates of the emails. This was Jaehyun’s burner email for porn sites back when he was in high school. You wanted to tease him about it so badly, but then you had to tell him that you were snooping around in his computer. Other emails looked like spam that came with signing up for the porn sites so you didn’t pay much attention since most of them involved viagra, online dating, and the likes. You were about to click out to hide evidence of your snooping around until you read the sender’s name: Detective Go Hyunmo of Gangnam P.I. Agency. You thought it was odd, but maybe it was spam like the rest, unless this email got caught accessing porn sites. It didn’t have a subject so you couldn’t really tell, but you still didn't open it and closed the computer after clicking out of the browser. As you switched the lights off and closed Jaehyun’s office door behind you, you can’t help but feel like you’ve heard Gangnam P.I. Agency before.

Jaehyun comes home today and you feel like a child waiting for their parents who’d been away for too long. He said he’ll be dropping some documents at the office and will be home after lunch. As he requested two days ago, you were going to be ready in bed for him when he returns and that means a tedious DIY spa session after you had breakfast. Once you were showered, exfoliated, and moisturized, you put on the new lingerie set you bought yesterday; a black sheer bra that had crocheted flowers and matching crotchless panties that had a string of pearls that ran right over your slit. It felt incredibly embarrassing when you tried it on, especially when the pearls move along your clit every time you moved.

“Honey, I’m home!” You hear outside the room just before the door closes. You booked out of the walk-in closet and ran, as quietly as you can, back into the bedroom, sparing a glance down the hallway to make sure Jaehyun doesn’t catch you. You ungracefully flung yourself to the bed, scrambling to find a position to present yourself to him, but you accidentally elbowed your phone off and it makes a loud thud on the floor.

“[Y/N]?”

Cussing under your breath, you stretch your arm out to grab your phone to put on the nightstand but then you hear a long whistle that makes you drop it again. You whipped your attention to Jaehyun, who now stood at the door frame with the first few buttons of his dress shirt already undone, and you smiled, “Welcome home?”

“Wow.” He drawls, dragging his eyes down your body, “When I said be ready for me, you really took it a step further. Is that new?”

“I got it yesterday.” You leaned back on your arms, folding your legs a little, “It’s a little more special than the others.”

“How so?” He takes slow steps towards you, tossing his blazer off.

Peeling your legs apart, you spread them out for him to see just what you were talking. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as Jaehyun’s eyes stared at your pearls and his tongue just darted out of his lips. An easy smile grows on his face, walking up to the bed and running a hand over your inner thigh.

“Damn, I didn’t know pearls looked good on you.” He runs a finger over the shiny beads, “But nothing can compare to my favorite pearl.”

Pushing the pearls aside, he presses your clit with his thumb and your hips instinctively buck upwards to meet his touch. He keeps his thumb on your clit while he runs two fingers between your pussy in a languid manner.

“You look so good, baby.” Jaehyun leans down to kiss the spot above your navel. “I hope you’re ready for me.”

“Always.”

He pulls away to remove his belt and as he does so, his eyes flutter to the other side of the room and he cocks his head, “You bought a teddy bear? Were you that lonely when I was gone?”

“What?” You sit up, glancing at the stuffed toy, “You got me that. It came with the roses.”

Jaehyun looks back at you, face completely stoic, before stepping away to walk over to the item in question.

“Jaehyun?”

He picks the toy up and inspects it, turning it over a few times until he squints at the bear’s beady eyes. A low growl escapes him as he closes his fist around the toy’s head and rips it away from the body, the distinct sound of thread snapping and cloth ripping filling the silence of the room.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?” You scoot over the edge of the bed, ready to stop him until he swiftly turns back to you. His expression sends shivers down your spine; you’ve seen that look before and you can’t believe you’re seeing it again.

“I never gave you this fucking bear, [Y/N].” He hurls the decapitated head to the side with so much force that the cotton filled toy makes a resounding thud against the wall. He forces his hand inside the bear’s head and takes out a small black cube. “There’s a fucking camera in it’s head. Who handed these to you?”

“H-Hyunwoo did… Wait, Jaehyun, can we—”

He slams the camera onto the floor, breaking it into pieces, before storming out the bedroom. You were frozen from flinching at his outburst that it took you awhile to collect yourself, scrambling off the bed to grab his discarded blazer and running out after him.

“Jae, wait!” You yelled, slipping his jacket on and clutching it close over your chest.

“Hyunwoo, did the flowers I had delivered here last Monday come with a teddy bear?” Jaehyun was on his phone, pacing by the couch. “It came separately? Which came first? The flowers? Fucking— go find out who delivered them and report back to me ASAP.”

He ends the call and angrily throws his cellphone to the floor, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

“Baby…” You silently gulped, approaching him cautiously; you don’t know what to say, however, completely at a loss for words at the revelation. “What’s happening?”

Jaehyun still doesn’t look at you when he tears his hand away and puts them to his hips, glaring down at wilting begonias. In a split second, he grabs the pot and hurls it across the room; shards of clay, dirt, leaves, and petals exploding against the wall. You gasped, instinctively hugging yourself to block off any debris in case it reached you.

“Jaehyun, what the fuck?!”

“I didn’t give you that damn plant and I didn’t give you that fucking bear either!” He yelled, nose flaring and veins popping out of his neck. “I don’t know who the fuck this shithead is, but I’m going find and kill him.”

He starts walking to the front door with wide steps, fixing the belt he had previously undone.

“Jaehyun, wait!” Your chest clenches in panic, “Jaehyun!”

When he was a few more paces away from the door, you gave one last scream of his name; you’re sure your neighbors heard you and are a phone call away from the police if they also heard the things Jaehyun had thrown around. He looks back at you, still visibly infuriated at the situation, but his expression softens into concern when he sees your face.

You don’t know when you started crying, but you were suddenly aware of it when a few tears dropped onto your hand that still clutched onto his blazer. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the one who gave the begonias?”

“I—I didn’t want you to panic…” He licks his lips, fully turning his body to face you.

“A-and now… and now w-we just found out that I was being… being secretly recorded for—for d-days,” Your vision starts to blur as fresh tears spring from your eyes, “And you’re just going to leave — again?”

He looks absolutely crushed to see you like this, “Y-you’re right. I’m sorry — no, okay, I won’t leave, come here.”

He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight and repeatedly kissing the top of your head while you hide your face in his chest to sob.

“What do they want with me?”

“No, I don’t think they’re after you, baby.” Jaehyun whispers, still kissing your hair while running his hand down your back to console you. “I think they’re after me.”

This doesn’t make you feel any better. You cry a little harder, body shaking in his hold as you looped your arms around his waist. Jaehyun’s enemies are your enemies, if he truly had any. This should have been common knowledge to you already. It’s no secret how important you are to him and it only makes sense that they’ll pick on you to get to him. You’ve already handled the demon in his mind; you’ve learned to accept it. Dealing with someone — an actual human being — from Jaehyun’s world is wading through murky waters. You’re either the target or the bait, and it’s upsetting to think that whichever you’re treated as, someone’s going to get hurt. No, there’s this horrible gut feeling, a nagging voice in the back of your head, that just tells you that chances are…

Someone’s going to die.

a/n: it’s a little shorter again, but we’re getting closer and closer to the climax and aaaaaah the trailer drop!!!!! like always, please please please let me know what you guys think here

next: part 11

~ buy me a peach? why?

#nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #devoted au

271 notes · View notes

charming-charlie · 4 years

Text

The Worst Goodbye

Title // The Worst Goodbye

Pairing // Anthony Ramos x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of drinking, cute little fluffs

Summary // Anthony is leaving the Hamilton show and you aren’t coping well with saying goodbye.

Word Count // 2k

Prompt // Hey there! Can I request something fluffy with Anthony from Hamilton? Maybe something where the reader really likes his long hair, aka Philip hair, so when he cuts it she’s a little discouraged? // I found a cute writing prompt for Anthony Ramos. “Person A and Person B having deep conversations together on the patio / balcony at 3 a.m.”

It seemed to be a long, winded night. You were tired, not fully exhausted yet, but there wasn’t much energy in you left. It was yet another end-of-run party, this time for Chris Jackson, for Hamilton. The year was full of losses. Lin, Philippa, Leslie, Daveed, and Ariana left earlier during the summer. Anthony, one of your closest friends, was scheduled to leave next.

The next party would be in celebration of him.

You were okay with that. He wanted to further his acting and music career. Working eight shows a week sort of hindered that and often left him too tired to pursue his other interests.

But it went with the territory, especially in your line of work. You worked at the Richard Rodgers theater as a backstage hand. You made sure people got to their places on time, handled wardrobe malfunctions, and helped devise a schedule if someone was going t be out. It was truly a fun job for you because you were able to see the ins and outs of the show, and you became close with the cast members, both past and present.

The hardest part were the goodbyes, like tonight. Chris was leaving, wrapping up his final curtain call in 2 days, which meant 2 more performances from the man who played a stellar George Washington. While these parties were meant to be a celebration, they were sadder for you. You said goodbye to so many people over the past few months.

The party took place on a rooftop bar. There was the bar itself, which had high glass walls and then there was the balcony area that fenced off the roof. Due to the chilly weather, it being November and all, no one even so much as attempted to go outside on the balcony. At least, not yet. Surely after they had more drinks in them and got warmed up from the alcohol, it’ll be full of party people.

For now, you were the only occupant on the empty balcony. The sun had set, and the moon was out. You were able to see very few stars due to the heavy lights of New York City, but it was still a very nice, relaxing sight. You knew you could never give up the city. There was just something about it that you found comforting, and peaceful nights like this were part of the reason why.

You had a drink in hand, barely touched. You were more focused on the sights before you. It was almost like a scene from a movie. Your hair whipped lightly in the cold wind, but you didn’t feel the frigid breeze.

In fact, you were so lost in your little world, you didn’t hear the bar door open, the one that led to the balcony. It was only when you felt someone brush against your shoulder, you were lulled out of your trance. You turned and you saw Anthony. He was wearing a hoodie with the hood up, his hands in his pockets, and some casual jeans. “Well,” you managed to say with a smile, “you certainly dressed for the occasion.”

He turned to look at you, smiling in return. One of his arms rested on the barrier of the roof. “Yo, I came straight from rehearsal. I didn’t have time to change. Besides, you really think Chris is going to care?” Anthony responded simply. It was almost like he knew you were going to say something about his look, and he had a rebuttal prepared. You wouldn’t put it past him.

That’s right, when he wasn’t working on Hamilton, he had rehearsals for the new show he was scheduled to be on. You said nothing, turning back to the city, not wanting to think about saying goodbye to yet another friend. The theater was starting to be kind of bleak with your favorite people leaving.

“No, Chris won’t mind. I mind though. What is this?” you asked. With your empty hand, you reached out to grab his hood, but he pulled back with a laugh, ducking your grip. He looked so casual and yet it looked like he was almost wearing a disguise. Like, he wanted to blend in. It didn’t work for you though. He had a personality and a smile that could be seen and heard from across a room. He was just that type of person, one of the best people you ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“This is fashion,” Anthony said much to your surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh, truly laugh, at his dumb choice of words.

“Your fashion sense is awful. What time is it?” you grabbed his arm and pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie, looking at his watch. It was going on three in the morning. You had no idea it was so late. The party inside the bar was still in full swing. You don’t think anybody even left it yet. The notion of the time emitted a yawn from you, and you tried to swat it away out of annoyance.

“Whoa, my fashion sense is amazing,” Anthony counted back as he lightly bumped into you, nudging you gently.

You took a sip of your drink, which had long since been watered down, and waved a hand in his direction. “There’s your catwalk, go model it for me and try to change my mind.”

You were absolutely kidding, and you thought your voice was dripping with sarcasm and jokes but Anthony actually took you up on that. He nodded, walked to the end of the balcony and turned to face you. You stood there in surprise, watching as the young man strutted toward you, one foot in front of another, giving off ridiculous poses. He unzipped the front of his hoodie dramatically, giving off such ridiculous model vibes. You were not drunk enough for this.

He got closer to you and he flailed his head, pushing the hood down. Your stared at him. Both of your hands flew to your barely drunken glass, fearing you would drop it from the sudden look. Anthony had cut his hair. His beautiful, long hair that he often wore pulled back, was now short and styled, and it caught you off guard to the point where you couldn’t look away.

You definitely were not drunk enough for this.

“Oh no babe, what is that?” you pointed to his head. Anthony was taking it in stride as he ran his fingers through his shorter hair with a sheepish smile. You had a feeling you were the first person he showed his new style to, but your reaction wasn’t exactly encouraging him.

“I had to cut it for the role. Does it look that bad?” Anthony asked. His smile was slowly fading, and he turned to the glass walls of the bar, trying to catch his reflection.

It didn’t look bad. It just looked different. It was yet another reminder that he was going to be leaving the show soon. It was a reminder that things were changing, and you were not liking it. Finding a cold bench, you sat down, your breath shaky. Your put your drink down somewhere on the ground, not wanting to touch it.

Anthony’s smile had turned into a complete frown by this point and he slowly sat next to you. “I’m gonna wear a wig for the rest of my Hamilton appearances, don’t worry.” His voice sounded a bit defeated. He looked out over the scenery, watching the still buildings, trying to avoid looking at you.

You hated how you were reacting, but you sincerely could not help it. To much was changing too fast.

“It was Renee’s old wig. I’m getting it fixed and cut before tomorrow’s show,” Anthony kept rambling on, as if it would make you feel better.

You sighed. Of course, you were overreacting. You knew that. You were being dramatic. Deep down, you had to expect that this was going to happen, and it has. It wasn’t just the hair. You loved Anthony’s longer hair and you thought he could pull a ponytail off better than most girls out there. This was different. This just proved things were not going to be the same in a very short amount of time.

“It’s not the hair,” you mumbled to yourself, but Anthony heard you. Slowly his head turned to look at you, but you could not bring yourself to face his warm, comforting eyes. “It’s what the hair represents.”

That astonished him and he let out a breath, sort of scoffing your words away like he didn’t quite understand. “What does that mean?”

Sighing deeply, you turned to look at him and you grabbed his hand. Maybe it was time for you to say what you were feeling. When were you going to get another chance? Plus, Anthony seemed a bit down in spirit right now from your reaction. He deserved an explanation.

“You cutting your hair means this is really happening,” you began. You were speaking slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. You didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing and make the evening (morning?) even worse. “I mean… it’s another reminder that you are leaving the show and leaving me. I’m just not… I don’t know, I’m just not handling it well. That’s all. Your hair looks good. I like the new cut.”

There was silence after that. You wished he would say something. Tension was growing between the two of you with each passing second and you were not sure how long you could sit there in overwhelming silence. You couldn’t take it. You exhaled and stood up, only to feel Anthony reach out and grab your hand. He tugged you back and you instantly sat down next to him.

He leaned in, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. “Don’t leave,” you heard him whisper. His fingers inched themselves slowly and wrapped around your hand in a tight hold. You rested your head against the top of his and closed your eyes. For a moment, everything seemed to be okay. But it was only for a moment.

“We knew this was coming,” you said slowly. Now you wanted to avoid the conversation. Anthony shushed you as he squeezed your hand. You felt his head rise from your shoulder. He let go of your hand, hooked his index finger and thumb under your chin, and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were unreadable, and he had a sad smile. That did nothing to help your dejected feelings.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you said but Anthony cut you off.

“Stop talking.”

He didn’t move, forcing you to keep looking at him. His hand shifted from under your chin to the side of your face. He was making it worse. He was stirring up things inside you that were going to be squashed like a bug on the night of his final curtain call.

“I may be leaving Hamilton but I’m not leaving your life. Don’t even think about that. You think I can just walk away and leave you behind? I can’t. I don’t want to. Shut up about saying goodbye. You aren’t saying goodbye. You may be working with a new John Laurens and Philip Schuyler, but you aren’t getting rid of me completely.” His voice took on a bit of sharpness. You could tell he did not prepare a speech for something like that, which further proved he was serious.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead softly. A cold wind zipped by, and you felt it that time. Or maybe that was just the chill that ran up your spine at his sudden, simple touch.

“Please promise me that,” you said, needing it for your own clarification.

“I promise,” he said while looking at you dead in the eyes. He held onto your gaze for a few moments. The lights of New York City were behind him and he looked like such a vision, like a painting come to life. He looked happy, his smile returned, and there was a sort of lightness behind his eyes.

Your worst fear turned out be over-exaggerated and you were thankful he was there. It’ll be hard, getting through these next few weeks knowing he was going to be gone soon, but you had faith that there was more to your friendship with Anthony than meets the eye. You knew he saw it too.

#anthony ramos #anthony ramos x reader #hamilton #writing request

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sbtlns · 4 years

Text

Home, part six

Warnings: fight scene, angst, nsfw scene

A/N: hehe cliff hanger >:)

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Castiel quickly walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to his room, careful to turn his body out of your sight. Once he reached the comfort of his room, he sat down on his bed and pulled his phone out. He really didn’t want to call Dean and ask for help, but he really had no idea what he was doing. Sighing to himself, he reluctantly dialed Dean’s number. “Cas, buddy, how are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did Y/N find you? Where-”

“Dean.” Castiel’s gruff voice cut off the older Winchester through the phone. He sighed before continuing, trying to be patient. “I am well, Y/N found me, we are at her old house,” he answered quickly. He heard the brother let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear man. How are things? Everything alright?” Dean continued to bombard him with questions. “Actually,” Castiel began before sighing again. “I have a bit of a...predicament,” he said vaguely. “...What kind of predicament?” Dean questioned. “My vessel...it appears to be..malfunctioning,” Castiel explained slowly. A moment passed as understanding washed over Dean. “And is this...predicament...in the downstairs region?” Dean asked, holding back a fit of laughter. “...Perhaps,” Castiel answered hesitantly. Dean couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer and Castiel rolled his eyes, annoyed at the lack of help being offered from his friend. “I’m..I’m sorry man...” Dean apologized between laughs. “Dean this isn’t funny,” Castiel scolded into the phone. “I made a fool of myself in front of Y/N. I hope I haven’t offended her..” he trailed off, voice becoming softer at the thought of offending you. “Cas, trust me buddy, you did not offend Y/N,” Dean said, clutching his side and breathing deeply, trying to recover from his laughing fit. “All right, bud, this is what you’re gonna do.”

After you watched Cas awkwardly shuffle up the stairs, you decided to start on breakfast. You were craving eggs and toast, and you hoped that would be okay with Castiel. You fruitlessly tried not to think about his current state upstairs, but to no avail. You imagined how beautiful he would look in all his glory, head lolled against his shoulders. You fought the urge to run upstairs as you pictured his mouth slightly parted and eyes closed in pleasure. The soft moans he would make as he touched himself.....Get a grip, Y/N! You shook your head rid of your fantasy and pulled your attention back to the eggs you were frying up, ignoring the ache in your core and damp spot in your panties.

You placed an egg, slice of toast, and some cut fruit on a plate for Castiel when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. You placed his plate in front of his chair before turning around to greet the former angel. He had tried to make himself presentable; he had changed into jeans and an old tshirt of Dean’s, but the glow in his cheeks and his unusual relaxed state gave him away. “Better?” you smiled gently at him. His cheeks reddened and he gave you a tight lipped smile in confirmation before averting his eyes from yours. “I um, made some breakfast,” you said, gesturing to his plate on the table and sitting down. He nodded and muttered his thanks, still not looking you in the eye. Part of you enjoyed how flustered he was around you, but eventually you decided to throw him a bone.

“So Cas,” you began, pushing a piece of egg around your plate with your fork. Cas briefly raised his head to look at your before looking back down at his plate. “How do you feel about going shopping with me today? We need to get you some clothes and I need some new jeans,” you said, looking up at him. He relaxed his tensed shoulders, relieved to be talking about something other than his..predicament..from this morning. “I would like that very much,” he said, smiling and looking up to meet you gaze. You stared back into his ocean eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in them for a moment. Castiel was the first one to break the silence. “This breakfast was lovely, thank you, Y/N,” he said looking down at his empty plate. You laughed as you stood up taking both of your plates, “it’s just eggs and toast, Cas,” you said, making your way to the sink. Castiel smiled to himself. Yes, but it’s your eggs and toast, he thought to himself.

You went back upstairs to get ready for the day, stopping in the mirror to fix your hair. You slipped off your sleep shirt and put on a bralette before rummaging through your drawer for the shirt you wanted. Suddenly you heard Castiel’s voice along with your door creaking open. “Y/N I was w-” he cut himself off. You stood in shock just staring at the intruder. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. You stood in front of him in nothing but panties and a bralette. He desperately searched for something to say-anything-but was rendered speechless. He couldn’t help his eyes wander to roam up and down your body, taking in every detail. “Cas!” you squeaked, trying to cover yourself up. He snapped out of it and took the hint, and practically tripped over his feet leaving the room. You stood there for a few minutes after he had left trying to regain your composure. You got dressed and took a deep breath before walking down the stairs. Castiel heard you coming down and immediately shot off the couch toward the bottom of the staircase.

“Y/N I apologize it was not my intention to.. see you, I entered the room to-” “Cas,” you interrupted him, feigning anger, but soon broke when you saw his pleading puppy eyes and the way he held his hands clasped together by his chest. You giggled before saying, “it’s okay, just remember there’s a reason why doors are closed,” he nodded, lowering his head. “Well, now that we’ve both been sufficiently embarrassed, how bout shopping?” you said, raising your eyebrows at him.

Shopping with Cas had been..interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly very picky. One shirt was too scratchy, another was too tight, another was too blue, and -your favorite- another one was “eh.” “What do you mean “eh?” you asked him. He scrunched his face up. “It’s just....eh.” You wiped a hand over your face before responding. “Cas, bud, do you like anything here?” Cas looked around for a moment before a table of flannels caught his eye. He walked over to the table and started picking up ones that he liked. You rolled your eyes before following him. “Really, Cas? Flannels? You really are a Winchester, huh,” you laughed. He smiled softly, picking up more. The two of you picked out several outfits for him before reaching the underwear section. “So Cas,” you said trying your best to hide your blush and sound nonchalant, “boxers or briefs?” He thought for a moment, looking between his two options. “Boxers,” he decided and you tried not to think of how he would look in each of the pairs he chose. After collecting his new wardrobe, you checked out and got back in the car. “Where to next?” you turned and asked him. “Wherever you would like to go,” he responded, smiling at you. You thought for a second. “I know a good smoothie place, we could go if you wanted?” “That sounds lovely, Y/N.”

The two of you made easy conversation on the car ride over and you told memories from the places you were passing along the ride. You parked in the lot and you noticed two men in suits standing along the side of the building. Out of habit, you reached down to make sure your gun was still in your waistband. Shrugging off the uneasy feeling you had, the two of you hopped out of the car and headed to the store, your eyes still on the two men. You made eye contact with one of them, who quickly hit his partner to get his attention. “Heads up- 11 o’clock,” you said under your breath to Castiel. His brows furrowed and he looked up to see the two men walking briskly towards the two of you. “Fuck,” you muttered, reaching to put your hand on your gun. You became increasingly aware of the fact that Castiel was weaponless. As an angel he had no need for a gun, and an angel blade was hard to conceal without his signature trenchcoat. You cursed again at this realization as the two men were quickly closing the gap between you.

“Castiel. We have been looking for you, brother,” one of them said from across the parking lot. Your blood ran cold as you realized two things at once: 1. they had every intention to hurt, if not kill your angel, and 2. your angel blade was in the car...20 feet away. “Castiel. Angel blade. Car. Go.” You said to him through your teeth, pulling your gun out of your waistband. He shot you a concerned glance. “But Y/N-” “NOW.” He hesitantly looked between you and his brothers before sprinting to the car.

“Walk away while you still have the chance,” you said threateningly, stopping in front of them, gun pointed. The two angels laughed. “You know that gun isn’t going to kill us,” one said mockingly. You set your shoulders back and lifted your head a little higher. “No,” you started, “but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” you said, unloading a clip into one of them. The angel groaned and dropped to the ground as the other angrily charged at you. He used his grace to disarm you before winding up and punching you in the face. You stumbled backwards, pain searing across your cheekbone. You came back up, dodging his next punch, but crashing to the ground as he swept your leg out from under your. He pinned you to the ground, squeezing your neck tightly. “Silly human, just wait until we alert angel radio. You-” He was cut off as his eyes and mouth glowed brightly, before collapsing on the ground next to you. You gasped for air, coughing and holding your throat. Castiel stood above you where the angel had been, the angel blade in his hand covered in blood. “Y/N,” he said concerned, reaching his hand out to you. You took it and he hauled you up to your feet and pulled you into a tight hug. You were shocked for a moment before returning his embrace. “Y/N I’m so sorry they were after me not you I could’ve.. I could’ve lost you” his last words came out in a whisper as he gripped you tighter.

“Cas,” your voice came out strained, a combination of being strangled and from how tight his embrace was. He seemed to pick up on this and released you, still gripping your forearms. “I’m okay, really,” you forced a smile. “Come on we need to get out of here.” The two of you started to make your way to the car when a wave of pain shot up your ankle. You stumbled for a second before Castiel caught you. “You’re hurt,” he said, voice filled with concern. “I’m fine,” you grunted, taking another step. You winced as you put weight on your ankle, which didn’t go unnoticed by Castiel. Without saying anything, he slid an arm around your back and swept your feet off the ground to carry you bridal style back to the car. “Cas!” you squealed. He smiled softly down at you. “You are injured,” he stated plainly, turning his gaze back in front of him. Your heart fluttered at the contact and you melted against his chest.

He opened the passenger door and lowered you into the seat before walking around the car and getting in the driver’s seat. “When you branded my ribs it warded me against angels right?” you asked, looking over at him and wincing as you moved your neck. He shot you a pained look before answering, “yes. Why?” “Well did you also brand Jimmy’s ribs?” you questioned. Castiel was quiet for a moment before answering, “No, I did not.” You nodded and picked up your phone, searching for the nearest tattoo shop. “We’re gonna mark your vessel so no more angels find us. The one who pinned me down threatened to tell angel radio so at least we know no one else knows where we are.”

“You sure about that?” you questioned after Castiel told the tattoo artist where he wanted the warding. He looked up at you questioningly. “Yeah, tough guy, ribs are gonna hurt, I’m not sure if you can handle that,” the artist teased. Castiel clenched his jaw and glared at the man. “I can handle it,” he said firmly. You exchanged a glance with the artist before he shrugged and got to work. Cas hid his pain well in the beginning, but after the first half hour his eyes closed tightly and he winced as the artist continued. After what felt like years to Castiel, the artist was finally done and you paid him before getting back in the car with Castiel. “Looks good,” you said softly as he lifted his shirt up gingerly. A blush crept up his cheeks before he started the car and pulled out of the lot.

When you got home, Castiel insisted on carrying you up the stairs and tending to the cut along your cheekbone. After he was satisfied with his work, he turned his attention to your ankle. “I do not think that it’s broken, but it will be sore for a few weeks,” he said, carefully turning your foot in his hands. “I’m sorry, if I had my grace I would have healed you by now and you would not be in pain,” he said sadly, hanging his head. “Hey,” you said, lifting his chin up. “I’ll be okay Cas, thank you.” He gave you a small smile in return.

“I don’t think I have it in me to cook tonight, is pizza okay?” you asked. “Of course,” he assured you. You called in a delivery order to your local pizza shop as Castiel carried you back down the stairs. He set you down on the couch and you put on a tv show to pass the time before the pizza got there. Halfway through the episode Castiel cleared his throat. “Y/N, I truly am sorry about today. You’re hurt because of me, because of a mistake that I made. And my brothers they almost....” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know what I would have done if they had. I..can’t lose you, Y/N,” he turned to face you, desperation filling his eyes. “I-” he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. He sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his shoulders before rising from the couch. You sat in shock as Castiel greeted the pizzaman at the door. What was he going to say? Your heart fluttered at the thought of him confessing his feelings for you. You had been fantasizing about it for so long, it didn’t seem possible.. or did it?

Whatever Castiel was going to say remained unsaid. The two of you ate the pizza and got distracted by the show until you glanced at the clock and realized how late it was. “Cas,” you groaned, sitting up straighter. “We should go to bed.” He nodded and stood up before facing you and scooping you off the couch. “Cas,” you giggled,” “you know you don’t have to keep carrying me, right?” He gave you a toothy grin. “I know, Y/N,” he said, carrying you up that stairs and into your room. He set you down on your bed. “Goodnight, Y/N. Pleasant dreams,” he said before closing your door behind him. You sighed. “Goodnight, Cas,” you said softly.

It was around 2am when you heard it. “No...NO....stop....please.” You shot up in bed, straining to hear. “Please..don’t...Y/N!....NO!” You jumped out of bed, ignoring the pain in your ankle and running across the hall to Castiel’s room. You burst through the door, gun at the ready. You didn’t find an intruder, but you did find Castiel writhing under his sheet, sweating, and clearly in distress. “Let..her..go,” he said through his teeth, thrashing again. You quickly set your gun on his dresser and sat down next to him on the bed. “Cas,” you cooed, running your fingers through his hair. The thrashing stopped, but his face was still contorted in fear. “Shhh, you’re okay Cas, it’s a dream. You can wake up, Cas,” you said softly, still stroking his hair. His eyes shot opened and stared up at you panicked. “Y/N..I..you..” he stammered. “Shhhh, it’s okay Castiel,” you cooed. His features softened and his body relaxed under your touch. You were tempted to stay and keep playing with his hair, but you knew you should let him sleep. “I’ll be right across the hall, Cas,” you said lightly, getting up. His hand flew to your wrist.

“Please,” he choked out. You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “Please stay,” he looked up at you with puppy eyes and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him and holding him as tight as you could. “Of course,” you smiled at him. He hurriedly scooted back on the bed to make room for you and you climbed in beside him, back to his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly. “No,” he said into your hair. You nodded slightly and adjusted to get closer to him. He tensed slightly as the curve of your ass brushed against his now hardening member. You felt heat pool in your core as you felt his cock hardening against you. Your body betrayed you and instinctively moved to slightly grind against him. You heard him grunt before pulling you tighter against his chest. “Y/N,” he said in a strained voice. “Hmm?” you hummed, moving your hips rhythmically against his hardening cock. He groaned, hands sliding up your shirt and pulling you even tighter against his body. The ache in your core began to grow as he moved his hands to grip your waist tight. You grinded harder against him, eliciting another groan. “Y/N..I,” he trailed off. “I...” The effect you had on him gave a major boost to your confidence. You turned around to straddle him and his eyes grew wide as his hardened member made contact with your clothed pussy. “I..” was all he managed to get out. “Use your words, Castiel,” you said, voice honeyed.

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years

Text

Okay so here is part two of this promt of mine to thank my now almost 250 followers. First part here. Enjoy!

Remus had a lot of fun stating the facts to the others. When they finally put everything together their faces will be even more hilarious! For now the others remained clueless though. For a little while Remus thought they'd all be old and grey by the time anyone figured it out.

Luckily they did get a clue about a week after Remus learned the exciting truth.

It was the evening before the premier of a project they'd been working on for ages. Roman was going over everything in the common area with everyone else as practice audience. Remus was playing heckler. No one asked him. He just did. He probably should have noticed Virgil tensing up with each comment. But he didn't. After Remus shouted something about a possible wardrobe malfunction Virgil shot up. "We have to cancel. We're not ready!"

Everyone looked up at Virgil in surprise. It'd been a long time since last he demanded skipping or postponing any type of commitment. It was always an option to him, but this wasn't a suggestion. It was a demand so strong that Thomas actually was thinking of what to tell Joan already.

No one knew what brought this on or how to resolve it. But Roman was still going to try.

"What do you mean? I'm sure we can see to any doubts you have and blow everyone away tomorrow."

Virgil balled his fists and shook his head. "Too much can go wrong..." he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Certainly. But we mustn't let down our audience for mere chance of failure.," Roman countered gently. "You think I'm being paranoid?" Virgil snapped accusingly.

Roman looked taken aback. "Virgil you are overreacting. I am merely trying too help!"

Virgil huffed, threw his hood over his head and stormed off to his room.

"Virgil!?" Roman called after him, but he didn't follow him up the stairs. He remained behind until they all cringed at the sound of a door slamming shut.

The prince's shoulders slumped and his head lowered dejected. "I'm... I'm going to reread the lines again..." he muttered before heading to his own room.

Patton reached out to Roman's retreating frame but came up short on things to say. The silence remained until a gentle click signaled that Roman had entered his room.

"That was fun," Janus muttered sarcastically as he got up, intending to talk to Virgil.

"Snakey, he just had his first fight with his boyfriend. He isn't up for 2 lies and maybe a truth," Remus pointed out. "Just like how my bro isn't going to appreciate playing tag with me."

Everyone stared at Remus, surprised he was capable of such insightful comments.

"Well that leaves us Lo," Patton observed looking up towards the private rooms tensely. Roman and Virgil argued a lot. Even now that they were all friends. Such was their nature. But those arguments were usually loud and full of Virgil's quips and Roman's dramatics. This one was unnervingly quiet in comparison.

"It would appear so. You should check on Virgil, I shall attempt to reason with Roman," Logan suggested. Patton nodded and together they headed to the opposing rooms. "Good luck," Patton smiled at Logan before knocking on Virgil's door.

"Virge? Mind if we chat for a bit?" A moment of silence before the door was opened. Patton hadn't heard him walk over... had he been by the door?

The question was forgotten when Patton saw Virgil's make up was running.

"Come in Pat..." he whispered softly, though he wasn't looking at him. Or rather past him at Logan.

Once more that puzzle was put asside in favor of cheering up his kiddo.

They sat on Virgil's bed, V curled in on himself Patton Indian style.

"I know I shouldn't have ran off... and that Roman wasn't calling me paranoid. So if that's all you wanted to say..."

"Actually," Patton started, interrupting Virgil before he could even start whatever self depreciating train of thought he was starting.

"I wanted to ask why you are so worried about this performance. It's not a big event and we are well prepared. Remus was only trying to get Roman of balance you know?"

Virgil dug his fingers in his hair in frustration. "I know! But what if it happens for real!? Roman'll get hurt!"

Patton blinked in surprise. He expected Virgil to be worried about Thomas first and the rest of them second. Prioritizing Roman like that... was Remus onto something? Patton always thought Virgil and Roman would make an absolutely adorable couple.

Virgil sighed and wrapped his arms around his legs to pull them tightly against his chest.

"Ever since you guys accepted me... I've been patching Roman up when he got 'bruised'. And even before I tried to check up on him... it's my fault when he gets hurt Patton. Because I didn't push Thomas hard enough, or too hard... anything I do wrong ends up hurting him. He was right to hate me. And when he realizes that I'll lose him and then you guys will stop talking to me and..."

"Kiddo hey... you're spiraling buddy." Logan said it's important they tell Virgil when he's trapped by his own head and how. "Breathe."

Virgil nodded and took a few deep breaths while wiping at his eyes.

"Virgil, none of us would ever blame you for trying your best."

Not even Roman. He knows you always act with our best interest at heart. And if you tell him you were worried for his safety, the whole thing will be forgotten," Patton assured the anxious side gently, secretly hoping that getting Virgil to open up towards Roman this way might help them get closer. Prinxiety just might set sail after all.

"You think so?" Virgil asked, not convinced.

"I know so. Take it from your old man kiddo. Roman cares about you. He has a funny way of showing it sometimes, but he does."

Virgil's face relaxed his eyes softening and his lips pulling into the tiniest smile.

"Yeah... I'll talk to him," Virgil nodded getting up and walking to the door with Patton.

Logan frowned, confused by the strange look Virgil had cast at Roman's door. Fearful yet almost longingly...

He must be mistaken. Emotions were not his area of expertise after all.

Instead of pondering the question any further, he turned and knocked on Roman's door.

"Roman? I wish to discuss something with you,"

A moment passed. "It's open."

When Logan entered he found Roman sat at his desk, his notes in front of him and his hands in his hair.

"I... can't figure it out Logan... I turn the conversation over and over in my head... what should I have said?"

When Roman looked up it was evident to even Logan that he'd been crying though he was doing his best to hide it.

Logan sat down on the bed his body angled towards the desk.

"Virgil was not mad at you Roman. It would seem something triggered a negative thought process in his mind which he tried to hide as not to disturb us. In doing so though the thoughts were not addressed and instead were left to build up tension which got released all at once. Even if you said exactly what he needed to hear, he was not in a mindscape to accept any of it. I am sure Virgil regretted what he said as soon as he said it. I theorize that he took distance in order to calm down before talking to you again," he explained.

Roman nodded allong to that. "So... I haven't ruined everything?" he asked almost timidly.

Logan shook his head. "You know I am not good with feelings. But i have observed that you and Virgil have grown close since he got accepted. Especially in recent weeks he is calmer and less prone to negative thinking when he interacts with you. Likewise he has clearly helped you be more focused and keep a level head, some of the time at least. You two have built something strong. And one fight like this won't end that."

Roman was tearing up again, but this time he was smiling.

"Truly? You believe I am good for him?"

Logan nodded his head, eyeing Roman curiously. He might be wrong but it almost seemed like...

"By Neptunes swimtrunks!" Roman exclaimed wide eyed. "I thank you for your aid Logan but I must make myself presentable and talk to my Emo post haste!"

His emo? Logan almost wished he was wrong. If Remus was right in any capacity he'd never let any of them live it down. But Roman and Virgil finding happiness with each other might just be worth it.

Logan let Roman push him to the door and let himself out as Roman was already hurrying to his bathroom. In the hallway he found Patton being led out of the opposing room by a nervously shifting Virgil.

"Is Roman mad at me?" he asked nervously.

"Of course not. He is worried about you," Logan assures his friend warmly.

Virgil relaxed at that. "Thanks guys. I think we'll be fine," he told them as he headed to the door. Logan got the hint and led Patton down the hall. He heard Virgil knock at the door an call out Roman's name. If he or Patton had turned back they would've seen how Virgil kissed Roman as soon as he opened the door.

Roman kissed his boyfriend back as he walked them both inside and closed the door.

"Not that I'm complaining but... what if someone saw?" Roman wondered quite happy actually with the bold gesture of affection. Virgil's role usually made him extremely cautious, which made his bouts of impulsivity even more surprising and delightful.

"Well if they did then I get to take you out to make it up to you," Virgil shrugged.

Roman chuckled. "You have nothing to apologize for mi corazon. But the thought is greatly appreciated. Want to talk about this over pizza and Disney?"

Virgil smiled and nodded. "You pick the first movie."

Logan and Patton voiced their suspicions to one another as well as Janus. All three agreed to wait with intervening and giving the two a chance to figure things out for themselves.

The tipping point came when they had a scheduled meeting with Thomas to discuss an upcoming colab he was nervous about.

First Roman and Virgil weren’t to be found anywhere. And then when Thomas pulled called them up by force they looked… disheveled.

“Good timing Thomas. One second later and… I honestly don’t want to think about that,” Virgil muttered as he straightened his hoodie and hair out.

Roman looked rather sheepish as he tugged at his sash and combed trough his hair.

“Where did you two come from?” Patton asked astonished.

“Imagination,” Virgil huffed as he turned to Roman, avoiding everyone else’s eyes subtle enough to be considered a coincidence.

“I told you we should have waited until after the meeting,” he told him, though he didn’t seem to be as mad as he was trying to be.

“I didn’t think we’d take that long,” Roman tried feebly.

“I did! You have no self control! Always have to go the extra mile don’t you?” Virgil pointed out. Roman looked back at Virgil now, a lot more confident.

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” he pointed out with a smirk.

Virgil rolled his eyes, but stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down. “I was kind of distracted,” he admitted.

“It’s no matter, we are here in one piece and there are more urgent matters at hand. Shall we, my stormy knight?”

Virgil sighed dramatically. “You are lucky you are so cute.”

Everyone in the room looked on incredulously. How were these two so clueless?

When the meeting ended, Roman and Virgil picked up their hike where they left off. On a blanket on top of the hill, ignoring the sunset in favor of making out.

“They need help Logan. Desperately! I am all for letting my kiddo’s take their time but this is too much! They are obviously in love!” Patton pleaded.

“Even I can’t stand watching them make eyes at each other any longer. Virgil is… taken with Roman. And Roman appears to be returning those feelings,” Janus admitted reluctantly. Virgil’s eyeshadow had been lilac more often than not when around the creative side. Only a complete idiot would keep denying it at this point.

“Told ya!” Remus grinned.

“Okay, fine… So how do we go about ‘setting them up’?” Logan relented.

Remus giggled manically. This was going to be so good.

“We make them spend time together! They have to realize they are meant for one another if they spend time one on one!” Patton exclaimed.

“But they are already together most of the time?” Logan objected.

“They are always working though. We have to pull them out of their comfort zone!”

Janus and Logan exchanged looks. “I’ll give an example,” Patton decided.

“Kiddo’s will you come down please!”

Roman and Virgil appeared almost at once, side by side, smiling brightly at Patton, Virgil’s eyeshadow bright and shiny as any of them had ever seen it.

“s'up pops? Virgil asked casually.

“Family picnic. You two take care of deserts!” Patton grinned brightly. “me and the others are going to put a basket together. Kitchen is all yours.”

And before either of the happy couple could respond Patton had pushed Janus and Logan out, followed closely by Remus. “have fun you two,” the green twin winked before rounding the corner.

“Are they seriously setting us up?” Roman whispered in astonishment.

“That’s hilarious,” Virgil grinned before turning to the kitchen counter where a cookbook laid open on a cake recipe. “Think you can handle this clever scheme o unconquerable prince?” he teased.

“Oh ye of little faith. It is I who shall thaw thine frozen heart with true loves kiss,” Roman grinned back.

“Do you think they've confessed yet?” Patton wondered as he placed nervously in Logan's room ten minutes later. The room calmed him down mostly but not near enough to be considered calm.

“Let's find out!” Remus exclaimed. Before anyone could stop him he was gone.

“That'll end well.” Janus groaned as he followed behind with Patton and Logan. To everyone he’s surprise they found Remus watching the kitchen rather discreetly. They joined him and were left speechless.

Roman and Virgil were both wearing aprons and chefs hats that matched their styles perfectly, both disregarding their usual top attire for simple t-shirts. Which was a good thing because there was an abundance of flower, chocolate and egg all over them.

Virgil was currently scolding Roman who was trying to take the mixing bowl from him. Neither was cross with the other though. In fact, both were nearly dying of laughter.

“Truce! Truce!” Roman called out as he managed to get a hold of himself. “Let’s compromise. Lest we get poorly mixed batter added to our canvases. How about I show you what I mean?”

Virgil relaxed his protective hold on the bowl and let Roman step behind him. Roman adjusted Virgil’s grip and laid his hands over his aligning their arms. He gently guided Virgil in mixing the batter.

“See?” Roman asked softly after a bit.

“um… wait almost. Show me that last bit again.” Janus quirked a brow. That was a lie. And if that was a lie, then Virgil just wanted… Oh boy his ray of stormshine had it bad.

Patton was nearly vibrating. Surely they'll realize…

“and there. Now it can be baked and we can get clean!” Roman declared satisfied as he stepped away. Virgil nodded and sighed in relief. “Finally, I’m more beat than the batter,” he joked. Roman snorted but he wasn't the only one.

“Oh hey Padre!” Roman greeted innocently. “ The cake will be done soon!”

Logan was up next. He reasoned that the key was physical proximity. He had observed that as light as the two acted about it afterwards it had clearly gotten to them. Remus suggested locking them in a closet until they ‘made out’ but Logan was sure he could be more subtle than that.

“What? But organizing the thoughts is your job!” Roman complained.

“It is and I apologize. I've been falling behind on my duties. Please, I am sure that if the two of you worked together it will be done quickly.”

Both Roman and Virgil sighed. They knew this was a set up, so they'd get away with more flirty behavior. But it was also work. And the room where the thoughts were being kept was so full of cabinets and boxes that it was near impossible to move around on your own let alone… oh.

If Logan thought he was being more dignified than Remus would be by disguising it as an accident he was wrong.

Roman wasn't even surprised to hear the door click shut as soon as Logan was “out of ear shot".

He was surprised to find that Logan had arranged the cabinets and boxes in a manner that would make them topple over and trap him and Virgil on the ground. Virgil on his chest as he'd pushed Roman to the ground and his arms wrapped protectively around his body to cushion his fall as much as possible.

They were stuck in that exact position for as long as Logan seemed necessary.

“Do you think either of those schemes would've worked if we weren't already dating?” Virgil wondered. Roman thoughtfully played with the hairs at the base of Virgil's skull for a bit.

“Not sure. We can both be stubborn. I’m kind of glad that I’ll never know,” he confessed.

Virgil sunk deeper into his embrace. “Me too.”

It wasn’t as fun as the baking scheme, but it was nice to cuddle with nothing else to do. Virgil usually got fidgety after a few minutes, even if he wanted to stay forever.

Roman wasn’t much better at staying still. But this… This might just convince the both of them to do this more often.

“I don’t hate this,” Virgil sighed after laying in silence for a while.

“I do make for a handsome pillow,” Roman joked as he pulled Virgil in closer.

“You do. But I mean… Usually silences are terrifying to me. But this? I don’t mind. I don’t worry about what you’re thinking. Or that I’m supposed to say something. It’s just… us and that’s enough. You know what I mean?”

Roman thought it over for a moment. “Yeah… I do. This is… As close to perfect as life is going to get,” he sighed contently.

It was something close to 30 minutes before they heard the door open and a moment later the room rearranged itself. “Tell me this isn’t something we could’ve done this entire time!” Virgil groaned as he got up, not showing his reluctance to do so.

“This is Logan’s domain. He maintains order in here. I have no power,” Roman huffed pretend offended, he was less successful in hiding how perfectly content he‘d been with their predicament.

“Indeed I do,” Logan agreed, flanked by Janus and Patton who both saw the look on Roman’s face. Again almost but not quite. What would it take?

Logan apologized for their predicament and assured them that he would complete the task. If they’d bought into the ruse for even a second this would have definitely tipped them off. But they let Logan think he was successful at least in hiding his intentions.

Janus initial idea was to simply impersonate either of the boys and using that form to get the other to confess. He never tried. And if he did he wasn’t found out almost right away.

So his second attempt he didn’t disguise himself or his intentions. Not to Roman at least.

And so the theater was left to fade away. It’s purpose fulfilled in an unexpected way.

“What exactly are your intentions with Virgil?”

Roman looked up from his vanity comb still in hand.

“After what you tried to pull yesterday, I’d say you know what my feelings are. As for my intentions… I won’t do anything that’ll make him uncomfortable. Don’t you worry,” he said as he returned his attention to the mirror and hummed ‘Once upon a dream’.

“So you are in love with him,” Janus drawled studying his nails. Though he glanced up to see Roman’s face flush. “Well…” the prince hesitated for a moment but then a blissful smile broke free and he leaned back with a sigh. “Yes,” he confessed dreamily.

“So tell him.” It was not that hard! He was the romantic side wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he be all for grand gestures like this?

Roman pursed his lips and shook his head, sitting up again and returning to his beauty routine.

“I’m waiting for the perfect moment.” Their first official date actually. If the other’s hurried and put the pieces together, they might be able to go on one for their 2 month anniversary.

He might already have something planned out. He had little doubt he’d be the one to crack first.

“I thought you’d say that. Come on, he’s waiting.”

Roman shot up. What was Janus planning?

The serpentine side led him to the imagination where a theater was set up. They entered stage right where Roman saw Virgil was waiting on stage.

“What is this about Jan?” the emo growled, eyes darting towards Roman and to the audience. Patton and Logan who looked about as confused as Roman felt. Remus was behind them just munching on popcorn.

“Remember the valentine’s episode?” Janus asked, everyone nodded, still confused.

“Well Virgil never got around to showing you all how he’d go about wooing someone. So I figured he could show us with Roman as an example crush. Thomas is getting ready to ask Nico to be his boyfriend. Might as well have all the possibilities out there. Direct, from the heart, grand gesture… You two have already shown that my methods of evasion and deception won’t work on Nico. He seems to find Thomas charming when he’s honest about his flaws, so we aren’t even going there.

Virgil, you have the floor,” Janus smirked smugly before getting of stage and joining the others in the audience.

Virgil took in a deep breath and glanced up at Roman as he let it all out.

Clearly he was nervous.

“Okay… So first…” He took hold of Roman’s hand. And it wasn’t the first time, this shouldn’t be a big deal. But doing it in the open, with this unexplained tension in the air, and his own confession in his head, it made Roman beyond flustered.

“Is this okay?” Roman pulled his eyes away from their joined hands as Virgil gave his a squeeze, looking at his boyfriend’s face instead. He looked so nervous.

“Of course,” he sighed breathlessly smiling warmly at the boy who completely owned his heart.

“Good… Roman… You know I blow at putting my thoughts in words. But this is something I need to say. Because just showing you feels like it isn’t enough.” Virgil took a deep breath and tugged at Roman’s arm, turning them to face each other.

“I like you,” he murmured, looking down “I like everything about you even the parts that drive me nuts. I like the way I feel around you. I like arguing about stupid things and laughing about it later. I like making messes with you and not worrying about cleaning it up. I like how you make me forget how scared I am sometimes. I like being myself with you, and feeling like that’s enough. I…”

Virgil might have a lot more to say than that but Roman wasn’t giving him the chance.

He pulled Virgil in and kissed him soundly. Virgil didn’t even pause before returning the kiss.

There was a loud wolf whistle, Remus clearly, but other than that complete silence.

After an infinite moment they pulled apart and smiled at each other.

“You can’t say things like that and expect me to just not kiss you mi amor.” Roman could hear the loud gasps from their audience.

“Wait! Are you saying…?” Patton started.

“We’re official,” Roman confirmed excitedly before returning his attention to Virgil.

“And that means, I shall be planning our first date. Be ready at six this evening, wear something semi-formal. No ties no monkey suits. But something nice. Understand?” Roman checked, not wanting Virgil to worry too much about what to wear, but needing him to not wear the hoodie just this one time.

Virgil nodded. “I think I can do that.”

Roman turned back to their audience. “I’d almost forget. Padre, may I take Virgil out?”

Patton was still in shock but nodded. “Of course, um have fun.”

“Told you all!” Remus shouted satisfied.

“How long?” Janus demanded, not a fan of secrets he isn’t privy to.

“Almost two months,” Virgil smiled making everyone go back in their head and see their interactions in a new light. They could see the moment they thought ‘How did we not figure this out,’ crossed their minds. Oh they’d been right. This was hilarious.

Roman chuckled fondly at their friends’ faces, before gently gazing down at Virgil and stroking his bangs out of his eyes/

“As much as it pains me to part my darling. I must prepare our evening.”

“Wait! Wait! You two… You two are boyfriends!” Patton exclaimed vibrating with excitement as that discovery finally registered. He jumped out of his seat and rushed over to the stage to hug them.

“Oh my goodness I’m so happy and proud!” he gushed. Both of them chuckled.

“Well, while I wish we had not wasted time on attempting to help you, I too am glad you have found happiness with each other,” Logan allowed.

Janus remained stubbornly silent, realizing Remus had known and had not told him at the very least.

“Thanks guys, that means a lot. And we were just messing with you guys, we weren’t keeping it a secret cause we didn’t trust you,” Virgil assured them as Patton finally let go and Roman put an arm around his waist, both excited that they could now do this in public.

“Oh you rascal! You really had us good. You have to tell me how you got together now though!” Patton insisted.

“Perhaps, once we return from our date Padre. Which I’ll have to start preparing for,” Roman reminded them reluctantly. He let go of Virgil’s waist and took his hand to place a kiss on it.

“I will count the minutes,” he muttered to his knuckles and exited stage left.

It took everything Virgil had not to start squeeling.

“Oh M G! We are going to pick out an outfit!” Patton giggled dragging Virgil along.

“I’ll lend you a hand. Obviously I have the most style,” Janus insisted as they too left the theater.

Logan sighed as though resigning himself to his fate. “Roman is bound to skip over practical details. I better ensure the date is a success or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Just admit you want to be part of it Nerd. That’s what I’m doing,” Remus grinned as he pulled Logan along.

#prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #All fluff #fluff

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romioneficfest · 4 years

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An Unbreakable Vow

Title: An Unbreakable Vow Prompt/Day: Day 2 Prompt (Pants. Hermione’s Office. Ron talks about the Snatchers.) Tumblr name: Rating: T Brief summary: A wardrobe malfunction at the Ministry leads to a discussion about a, not so secret, secret Ron’s kept about his run-in with the snatchers. (AKA, that time I was really dense and thought I had to work in all the word prompts into one story). Any possible triggering/warning tags: Partial nudity, extremely mild suggestive language, and discussion of violence.

“Ron?” The red head turned around at the sound of Hermione’s voice. She stood frozen in the doorway of her office at the Ministry with several rolls of parchment tucked under one arm and confusion beaming from her face. Ron watched as her eyes traced up his form until she caught his eyes and fixed him with a scrutinizing glare.

“Why are you practically naked in my office?” she asked, still holding onto the knob of the open door.

“Hello, love,” Ron called back to her as he picked up an oxford shirt he had draped on the back of a chair and began slipping it on. “Do you mind closing the door? I don’t fancy your whole office seeing me in my pants.”

Hermione jolted at his words and quickly moved inside the room and shut the door. She walked over to her desk and dropped off the parchment she’d been carrying without taking her eyes off him.

“Sorry, about this.” Ron motioned to his state of undress. He finished buttoning his shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone and grabbed a pair of trousers off the chair before sitting down to put them on.

“I ran into some kid handling confiscated doxy pheromones after I got to the Ministry,” Hermione wrinkled her nose at those words. “Exactly, even scourgify can’t undo that smell. So I changed into the spare outfit you keep for me when we go out with your ministry stiffs. I hope you don’t mind.”

Ron finished buttoning his trousers and walked around the desk to stand next to Hermione. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and then her forehead.

“I would say sorry for running late to lunch, but it seems you’re a bit late yourself,” he mumbled against her forehead. Ron started to pull back but froze when Hermione grabbed him by the bottom of his untucked shirt and tugged it up.

“Saw something you liked?” Ron started with a wry grin, but he quickly noticed something was off as Hermione merely continued to tug up his shirt with one hand while the other hand gently turned him around.

“What is this?” Hermione asked in a low voice. She ran cool fingers along the lower left side of Ron’s back. Her fingers ran over a particularly painful spot, and Ron couldn’t help but flinch and suck in a pained breath between his teeth.

“What happened?” Hermione asked again.

“Oh, I think that happened a few days ago,” he said nonchalantly. “Fell in the stock room and hit my back.”

“Why didn’t you or George properly heal it?” Hermione asked after a few seconds.

“It didn’t really hurt at the time, and I just sort of forgot about it.”

Hermione groaned disapprovingly at his response and he could hear the rustle of her robes just before the healing heat from a nonverbal episkey charm radiated across his back.

“So, a few days ago.” Hermione said pointedly and Ron turned to face her. She stood a little farther away from him than he remembered with her arms crossed over her chest. “Ron you know the rules. You’ve always followed the rules before.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s our little unbreakable vow,” he joked but stiffened after Hermione fixed him with an unamused stare. “I’m supposed to let you know of any injuries no matter—”

“No matter how big or small.”

Ron closed the distance between them in one step and ran his hands down her arms before pulling her into a firm hug.

“I promise, I wasn’t hiding anything,” he said, pressing his nose into her hair and breathing in her apple cinnamon shampoo. Ron had learned various techniques over the years for calming Hermione before she had a chance to lecture him, and a good cuddle was top of the list.

“It wasn’t a big deal, honest,” he continued in the soothing voice he always used when Hermione was especially stressed. “It probably looked worse just now than it did that day.” Ron figured he’d achieved his objective, when he heard Hermione let out a sigh and felt her wrap her arms around his waist.

“Do you know why I always ask you to check in with me about these things?” Hermione asked.

“Besides an excuse to see me naked?”

“Don’t be silly, I never need an excuse for that,” Hermione replied. Ron looked down at her with a grin and leaned in to kiss her lips, but she leaned back and shook her head.

“This is serious,” she said. “Do you remember the story you told Harry and me about the snatchers?” she continued. “You said they weren’t that bright—”

“Part troll were my exact words,” Ron interjected.

“And you said that you were able to get away from them with two splinched fingernails as your only injury, but I know you lied because of this,” Hermione said as she pulled back the collar of his shirt and ran her fingers across a small scar on his shoulder that was almost obscured by the larger swirling scars running down his arms. “I know it wasn’t there before the tent.”

“How would you have known that?”

“We may not have been together, Ron, but let’s just say I was well acquainted with your…erm…form even then.”

“Good to know,” Ron replied with a crooked smile.

“Focus, Ron,” Hermione commanded but seemed to be biting back her own smile.

“It was after you came back,” she continued, her fingers still tracing the edges of the old scar. “One morning when you came to take over a shift for me, I saw it there. It was a lot more noticeable. It had that bright red look of a recently healed scar. At first, I figured you probably just splinched yourself worse than you wanted to admit. Besides, I was still trying my best to ignore you. But when you weren’t looking, I couldn’t help myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I still watched you all the time even if I wasn’t speaking to you. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“I might have.”

“Naturally, the more I watched you the more I realised that this was a wound from something sharp. Like a knife—and the only time that could have happened…” Hermione sniffled. “I’m right, aren’t I? This is from the snatchers?”

“You’re not wrong that it was from the snatchers, but I swear most of the encounter went as I said. They really were quite daft, but when they first grabbed me, one of ‘em held a knife to me. In the struggle to get away he did nick me a bit—”

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Alright, yes he stabbed me—once, but it was shallow and my adrenaline was so high at that point that by the time I knew what happened I was already safe.”

Hermione frowned at him. “Was the knife cursed?”

“No,” he answered. His mouth was set into a grim line for the first time since their conversation began.

Hermione nodded almost imperceptibly at his response before resting her head back on his chest. They stood in their embrace for a few more moments.

“I always just figured you thought it was part of my scar from the brains.” Ron finally broke the silence. “You weren’t mad that I never said anything?”

“I was, but mostly I didn’t say anything because I was still stubbornly trying to avoid speaking to you at the time.” Hermione chuckled, and Ron smiled at the memories of her futile efforts to stay mad at him.

“But, a part of me realised that you didn’t want Harry and me to worry. So I decided to respect that,” Hermione added. “It’s something of a habit for you.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“It’s one of my favourite things about you, but it also makes me worry. That’s why I made you promise me, back when you became an Auror, to tell me about every scrape, every scratch, every—”

“Splinched eyebrow and fingernail, were the words I recall.”

Hermione pinched his side but otherwise didn’t break their embrace. “And I meant it,” she mumbled.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he murmured back. “But I’m not even an Auror anymore, doesn’t that cancel the agreement?”

“Are you joking? Working with George makes it even more important. At least as an Auror I could count on Harry to keep you safe, and honest.” Hermione looked up at him and brought her hands up to rest on his neck. “So you better not forget it Ron Weasley, or else…”

“Or else?”

A playful smile crossed Hermione’s lips and she rose up on her tiptoes. Ron bent down to meet her, stopping just before their lips met.

“Next time it will be a real unbreakable vow,” Hermione said just before pressing her lips against his.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Not quite Ace Safe #See CW notes

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whittakerjodie · 4 years

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The Reader, The Timelord, and the Wardrobe (13th Doctor X Reader)

Request: 13th x Reader Prompt- Stuck in the Tardis/ Storytime with Props from the Wardrobe -bonus points for lots of hats -Double Points for silly/sfw wardrobe malfunction

Words: 3k

Warnings: too much fluff, kinda crack at some points but thats what makes it fun!

A/N: This got kinda off of the prompt so im sorry! The inspiration was high for this one, thoguh, thank you for sending in a request and I hope that you enjoy this!!!!!1

You dropped the sweater you were wearing onto the floor, letting the TARDIS take care of it. It was currently 9 o’clock at night (at least, it was according to the cheap watch you’d brought with you last time the Doctor picked you up) and you still had yet to settle on an outfit for the Doctor’s next surprise; the day had been full of them, but according to the timelord she’d saved the best for last. You were supposed to dress “comfortably.” Despite her instruction, you still wanted to dress nicely for her- which made the outfit selection process a lot more difficult as the signals mixed.

“You almost ready?” The Doctor asked eagerly. She was sitting on a staircase down from where you were to give you privacy. You had no idea where the staircases lead, but the TARDIS wardrobe seemed to be full of them. More closets, perhaps?

“Not quite” You said with a frown. “Are you sure you can’t just pick something out for me?”

There was a pause and, for the briefest of moments, the worry that you’d said something wrong. The Doctor cleared her throat and gave a small chuckle. “Not sure my fashion sense would be best this time round”

“Pleaaaaaaaaaasssssseeeeee?” You whined, kicking the pile of discarded clothes aside in defeat. “It could be another fun birthday surprise!”

The selling point worked and the Doctor stood from her sitting place. You covered yourself with a rob that had miraculously appeared on a hanger near you as she ascended the stairs.

“Alright, if you insist” She murmured with a playful roll of her eyes, avoiding you with them.

“Well it is my special day” You answered back. She flashed you a split-second smile and began shifting through the infinity of clothes contained- if contained was even a word that could be applied to such a space - the wardrobe.

You took a seat on a couch in the corner, admiring the crystalline walls. According to the Doctor, the wardrobe and hallways always changed to match the console whenever the space-time machine deemed it time for a remodel. Running your fingers over the wall, your mind drifted to possible earlier versions of the rooms, similar to your late night musings about the Doctor’s previous personalities.

“Here,” she said, breaking you out of your focus. In her left hand she held a pair of jeans and thick snow boots. The boot matched the geometric designed multicolored winter jacket in her right hand, and the hat she was also trying to cling on to.

“Good?” She asked, pulling matching mittens off of an unseen surface and between her teeth (the only method of display she had left) You laughed at her ridiculous position, deciding to toy with her a little further.

“Sorry, Doctor, what was that?”

“Iz thwis gwood?” Came her muffled repeat, garbled by the garment she had shoved into her mouth. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from ruining the game so soon.

“Sorry, still didn’t catch that” The Doctor took a deep breath, preparing to respond, when one of the mittens fell out of her mouth. The soft impact broke through your willpower and you let out a loud laugh- one that was only encouraged by the Doctor’s annoyed expression.

“Special day!” You used as armor. She picked the mitten off the floor and dumped her selections onto the couch next to you, setting her hands on her hips.

“Very funny. Now get dressed, the ice lakes of- oh! Not supposed to say that. Don’t worry, though, that’s not the whole surprise!” She laughed nervously. “Alright… I’m going to … sit over there. “

She returned to her stair seat, huffing and mumbling under her breath about “Almost ruining it” You shrugged and started to pull on the pieces, sighing at the comfort that the thick winter jacket gave you. Ice lakes, hmm? It only took a few minutes and you were fully clothed, running your hands over your new outfit. It fit you perfectly, the colors complimenting your natural features well.

“Thanks for helping her out, old girl” You whispered to the mirror in front of you. The lights grew a little brighter in response and you smiled.

“Alright! All dressed” You cheered. The Doctor stepped in front of you again, grinning.

“You look brilliant. Guess my talents were useful after all.”

“For sure,” You chuckled. She held out her arm and you linked yours with it, nerves buzzing at the gesture and proximity. You experimentally reached your free hand towards her to rest it on her bicep, which, to your surprise, was quite established. The timelord adjusted to the touch immediately, leading you towards the doors of the wardrobe room. Like all TARDIS doors, they slid open when one approached. Or, more accurately, they should have slid open when you approached. The Doctor’s smile turned into a frown and she stepped back, taking you with her, then stepped forward again.

The door did not budge.

The Doctor chuckled, face relaxed, but there was a hint of nervousness to her tone. “Sure it’s just the old girl forgetting to open it. See?” She stepped closer and the door still did not open. You felt a mix of amusement and your own nervousness rise within you.

“Uh, it’s still not opening.”

“Yeahhhh….” The Doctor trailed off, pursing her lips. “Maybe she’s doing maintenance down that way. Lets try another”

She pulled you towards another one of the doors available, re-establishing her grin. Once again, as the two of you approached, the door stayed closed. The Doctor’s grin did not fall; instead it stayed, although obviously forced. “Just need to try again, of course!”

So the two of you went down each pathway and stairwell, up to each and every door displaced in the wardrobe room, until only one remained with the possibility of success.

“Just the old girl having fun with us for your birthday, right?” the Doctor grumbled through gritted teeth. Your arms were no longer linked, hers crossed tightly against her chest. Yours were rolling the zipper of the winter jacket between two fingers, wondering if you should take it off. It was getting awfully hot in the room, and the sour attitudes slowly being adopted did nothing to help.

“Doctor, I’m sure that's the case,” You tried to calm her down. “Look, we singled it down to one door. Obviously it’s this one”

However, as you stepped closer, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just jinxed things. Your fingers clenched into fists in your anxiety, the Doctor tensing as well. One last door. One last door.

You were 10 feet away, and the door had not budged. 9 feet. 8 feet. 7 feet. 6 feet. 5 feet. 4 feet. 3 feet. 2 feet. And finally, 1 foot away. The Doctor hit her forehead against the door, groaning obnoxiously. Your limbs went limp, and your own groan matched the timelords.

“I don’t understand!” The Doctor cried, pushing on the door.

“It’s not push,” You offered, and she glared at you. You awkwardly lifted your wrist to check the time. It was already 10 pm. The two of you had spent an entire hour out of the limited birthday hours left simply trying to leave a room. The Doctor cemented her feet and pushed against the door horizontally, grunting and groaning with the sheer effort. You knew that it was no use, trying to fight a time machine.

“Doctor,” You said softly.

“I will get us out of here,” She groaned, straining harder.

“Doctor!” You yelled. She jumped in surprise and nearly fell to the floor. You offered a hand and lifted her back up. “It’s okay. Just try and think of what’s happened. If you don’t know we could always wait it out. I’m sure the TARDIS will sort it”

The Doctor nodded, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. You completed the task for her and she grabbed your hand, bringing it back down by her side.

“I’m sorry that this is happening. Such a waste of time. Hopefully there’s still time for the ice lakes.”

“We’re in a time machine, Doctor. There’s always time for the bone lakes.” You said, squeezing her hands reassuringly. She lifted yours to her mouth, giving it a soft kiss as you pulled her back towards one of the couches so the two of you could sit and think.

“But it won’t be a special birthday surprise” She whispered mournfully. You shook your head as she took a seat next to you, flopped over the couches surface with a frown. You scooted over so that her arm was practically over your shoulders, leaning into her side.

“We’ve still got time left. 2 hours, according to my watch.”

“You still have one of those?” The Doctor asked. You flashed the timepiece, letting her examine it. “Interesting. Most people who’ve traveled with me get rid of them. But I’ll add watches to the list of potential presents for the future.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” You laughed, as her fingers wrapped around your wrist in a not so subtle attempt to measure what size of watch she should shop for.

“Of course I do,” She whispered. You realized how close the two of you were, leaning into one another. It was wonderful, despite the fact that your rising body temperature and winter coat combining to make everything feel utterly

“I really need to get out of this coat,” You groaned. The Doctor’s eyes widened and you laughed, pushing yourself up off the couch and walking over to one of the clothing racks, hiding behind it so you could change.

“I’ve had an idea!” The Doctor called from her place on the couch. You threw the coat across the room, thankful to be freed from your role as a hot pocket. The mittens and hat went next, followed by the snow boots.

“Oh?” You inquired, unlacing them and setting them against the wall (deciding throwing them was not a safe option) When the timelord didn’t answer, you raised a brow. Keeping the jeans, you pulled a random shirt off of the clothes rack and pulled it over your head.

“I visited Midnight and all I got was this lousy T-shirt?” You read, laughing to yourself. “What’s Midnight?” You asked. Once again, you got no response. With the TARDIS already malfunctioning once, you didn’t want to take any chances- what if she had misplaced the Doctor herself? You leapt out from behind the clothing rack.

Thankfully, the Doctor was still stuck with you. Or, at the very least, you assumed it was the Doctor. Her entire body was hidden underneath a very large panda costume. You blinked, unsure of how to react.

“Um. Doctor?”

She laughed underneath the costume, shoulders shaking. “Just because we can’t go watch the great Stavron migration under the ice lakes doesn’t mean we can’t have fun! I thought a little bit of dress up would do the trick.”

You laughed with her, poking the costume curiously. “When people say dress up I imagine fancy suits and dresses- where’d you even get this?”

“I’ll never reveal my secrets!” She yelled. “Hang on”

You watched her disappear behind a clothing rack, the Panda costume thrown across the room and landing in an awkward heap. A few more clothes followed suit before the Doctor emerged again, dressed from head to toe in a mish-mash of patterns and colors, topped off with a large brimmed red hat.

“Doctor,” You laughed, “Come on, what’s all of this?”

“A laugh!” She said, tipping her obnoxious hat in your direction. She smirked. “Looks like it’s working, hmm?”

She disappeared a couple more times, with a different extravagant outfit each time. A three piece suit with a cowboy hat pattern accompanied by an actual cowboy hat, which reached the ceiling. A Zygon costume with a pink tutu to (not) match. Every single one made you laugh harder, until you had to hold your stomach to stop yourself. At some point she’d taken the knitted chicken hat she found and pulled it on top of your head with a mischievous smile.

You were out of breath and your jaw ached, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. The Doctor, realizing she’d pushed you past giggling limits, jumped back onto the couch next to you. She was currently wearing a large rainbow sweater with far too many enamel pins to count, pants that were striped in blue and pink, clown shoes, and a pair of fluffy mouse ears.

“Doctor... “ You whined. “Where do you even find these clothes”

“All sorts of places!” She said, feigning offence. “You don’t like the sweater?”

“I love the sweater.” You reassured her. You lifted your wrist again. 10:30 pm. The Doctor frowned at the clock's face.

“Do you want to check the doors again?” She asked softly, searching your face for any sign of discontent.

“No,” You whispered, shaking your head. If you went around checking all of them again, it would likely lead to more disappointment and you only had so little time on your birthday left. “Will you tell me some stories to pass the time instead?”

“Are you sure? We might miss out on the ice lakes for your special day” You smiled at the Doctor’s adorable frown and her concern. You placed a hand on her cheek, using her thumb to smooth the frown upward into a smile.

“Doctor, you’ve already made today- and everyday- beyond special. You could sit here with me for the rest of eternity doing nothing and it would be all I could ever ask for.”

“Y/n,” She murmured, her gaze softening and form relaxing. “You’re far too kind. Anything you could ever ask for, really?”

You stared up into her hazel eyes, the ones that held an infinity of experience and knowledge, and offered an endless landscape of color and love, and your smile grew. No present, or memory, or trip could ever equate to the women you held in your hands and your heart. “Well,” You began, biting your lip. “I was thinking I could ask you for a kiss as well.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened briefly but she gave no hesitation in her nod, which was eager. You sighed in relief and closed the distance between the two of you, absorbing every spark you felt as your lips met. The Doctor pressed more eagerly, and you carefully wound your arms around her neck to hold her tighter. The Doctor, trying to figure out what to do with her own hands, explored the area around your shoulders as you broke away for a quick, deep breath, before kissing her again.

Her hands moved upward to cradle your head, and for a moment, you felt a slight bit of pressure against what would be the comb of the chicken’s head when a chicken cry rang throughout the room.

The Doctor pulled back, mortified.

“Uh- what the fuck was that” You stammered, face still red from the Doctor’s being pressed against it.

“There- There’s a button there. For the noise, and I pressed it,” She answered quickly, face draining of blood. You blinked, unsure of how to respond. Your hands were still wrapped around the Doctor’s neck, which you could feel heating up. Deciding the situation was simply too incredible, you involuntarily let out a loud bark of a laugh, slapping one of your hands to your mouth to try and cover it up.

The Doctor watched with eyes as wide as saucers as you lost it, trying to stop yourself.

“I- I had no idea that was there! I swear! I’ve worn it before and everything and it’s never-”

“Doctor,” you chuckled. “Doctor it’s fine, if anything it’s hilarious”

“I didn’t imagine our first kiss being hilarious,” She said with a huff. Your face went slack.

“You didn’t.. Imagine?” The Doctor avoided your gaze, adjusting her sweater.

“N-Not that I imagined our first kiss of course, that would be weird. Right?” Her eyes shot back to you, brow furrowed.

“Not at all.” You responded. You reached up to toy with the strands of the chicken hat, taking your chance to admit your own wishes “I imagined it too…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Couple times.”

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“What you imagined.”

“Not exactly,” You admitted. “But I liked it. A lot.”

“Oh!” The Doctor breathed, scratching the back of her neck. “Good. That’s always good.”

“Do you know what would be better?”

“What?”

“Another one.” You pleaded, pouting. The Doctor grinned and dipped downward to capture your lips once more. Before they could meet you placed a single finger inbetween the two of you, preventing the contact. It was the Doctor’s turn to pout, looking adorably confused. “Another one after you tell me a story.”

“Why can’t I kiss you now and then again after the story” She whimpered. You considered what she’d said, trying not to break. “Because it’s my birthday and I say so?” You offered. “Now tell me a story. One about a crazy adventure, and don’t spare a single detail.”

“Alright, I suppose I can’t refuse a request on your birthday. Even if it’s not a birthday surprise I’ll do my best to make it happen; I’m amazing at stories.” She leaned back against the couch, offering her arm for you to slide under. You accepted it, cuddling into her side.

She told more than one story, her voice soft and her eyes looking off into the distance, lost inside the memories she was describing to you. If you found yourself awake enough to latch onto your words, you could almost slip into them yourself. Five stories in, you spared one last glance at your watch. 11:58.

Deciding it was good to call your birthday over with, you allowed your eyelids to shut. You felt the Doctor kiss you once more, on the forehead, before letting you drift away in her arms. Though the day hadn’t gone as expected, you couldn’t have wished for anything else.

#13th Doctor #13th doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #13th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who imagine

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phykios · 3 years

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honesty and promise me, part 2 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Goth isn’t really Annabeth’s scene—hasn’t been since she was twelve, hiding in her room and blasting Evanescence or Avril Lavigne so she didn’t have to spend quality time with her brothers, or even talk to her stepmother at all—but Percy had insisted. She could almost picture his pathetic, baby seal-eyed face as he wheedled and whined at her over text, until she eventually (not at all reluctantly) gave in.

She’s only known him for a few weeks. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly her willpower had crumbled.

Thalia, for whatever reason, had decidedly not been game, even when presented with a large, post-bartending hangover coffee as an opening salvo. “This is a bad idea,” she had said, glaring at the sun so intensely that, were it not for her thick, black sunglasses, she probably would have vaporized it.

“We don’t have to go.”

“No, the show will be great. Pluto’s Daughter is great,” she said between sips of her too-bitter-to-be-real black coffee. “You and Percy, is a bad idea.”

“Protective of your baby cousin?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow, her eyebrow ring awkwardly bumping up against her hair, sorely in need of a shave. She was thinking of getting a second ring. Her mother had once told her that they were the epitome of trash—but Thalia had two, and they looked so badass.

She scoffed. “He’s not the baby.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

Thalia narrowed her eyes, really considering Annabeth. Annabeth’s own eyes had been described more often than not as storm clouds, dark and heavy. If hers were storm clouds, then Thalia’s were lightning, electric blue, piercing, beautiful, and dangerous, with a temper to match. “Before you started seeing him,” she said, “I’d have said that you’d eat him alive.”

Annabeth smirked. “I have done no eating yet.”

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, now I’m going to be honest with you. He’s going to eat you alive—and your self-esteem is never going to be able to recover. Honestly, I shouldn’t even let you two within ten feet of each other.”

She scoffed, taking a long drink of her own coffee, black but with just enough sugar to make it bearable.

As if a ballerina would ever intimidate her. A fucking ballerina.

The conversation hadn’t exactly ended the way either of them wanted, but Annabeth was still going to keep fucking Percy for the time being, and Thalia was going to let herself be dragged to the damn concert.

The night of, the bar has a line, but Thalia alternately sweet-talks and intimidates the bouncer, and he lets them in. Having tended bar for any place that would take her and not put her on the payroll, Annabeth assumes that she just has dirt on everyone in the service industry in New York City, so they skip a lot of cover charges, and get a lot of free drinks.

It's fucking crowded inside, too, packed to the brim with sweaty bodies and heavy boots. Just another day in paradise.

Thalia glances at her phone. “They’re at the bar, up front?”

“They?”

Thalia doesn’t hear her, apparently, just wraps her mesh covered hand over Annabeth’s wrist and pulls her through the crush of people. Annabeth has her eyes peeled for Percy’s typical blue hoodie or orange muscle tees, thinking that they would stand out like a sore thumb in this place, but she can’t see a goddamned thing.

Now, punks aren’t exactly known for their radical use of color, but this was another thing entirely, a sea of black and lace and leather. Looking for his black hair is a waste of her time. “So many bad bottle jobs,” she murmurs.

Thalia pauses for a second, frowning at her. “What?”

“Everyone here has decided that they just had to dye their hair black. How original.”

She is silent for a moment, squinting, then looks away. “I see them, come on.”

Her blunt nails dig into Annabeth’s arm as she yanks her even harder.

There, at the end of the bar, a tall guy stands, dressed to the nines—the nines of this particular scene, anyway.

He looks kind of familiar: curly black hair in a sharp undercut that Annabeth definitely admires, extremely tight, black skinny jeans that leave nothing to the imagination and really went out of style with My Chemical Romance, a t-shirt with a skull on it (because goths, obviously), and a leather jacket, covered in patches. She spots the Italian flag, several for Pluto’s Daughter and a handful of other bands, a pride flag, a couple of music notes, and one that says, “Not gay as in happy, queer as in fuck you.”

“Annabeth,” says Thalia, “you remember Nico.”

Annabeth blinks. The last time she’d met Nico, he’d been wearing a three-piece suit that had cost as much as her rent. Now the hand she shakes has black fingernails and a skull ring, leading up to a face with eyes lined heavier than either Thalia’s or Annabeth’s, with a septum ring and a line of studs up one ear. “Hey.”

“Where’s our prima ballerina?” Thalia asks as Nico offers her a glass of something brown.

Thalia likes—and cannot often afford—expensive booze, which means that Nico must be paying. Unwilling to be caught in another embarrassing little social snafu, Annabeth tries really hard to remember what it is that he does. Hadn’t he sold his soul to some law firm or other?

“He went to consign himself to a slow and agonizing death,” says Nico.

“What?” Annabeth asks, glancing between the cousins.

Thalia rolls her eyes. “He means Percy went out for a smoke. Nico doesn’t approve.”

“It’s bad for you! This is not a controversial topic,” he says. “I don’t like that he does it, I don’t like that he got you to start, and I’m not going to like it when I go to both of your funerals. But I am going to tell you I told you so.” Then, seemingly as if to undermine his point, he throws back the rest of his own drink, holding up the empty glass to the bartender. “Another,” he calls, “Godfather, if you please.”

If drinks were on Nico tonight, maybe Annabeth could use the cover of the goth crowd to order a glass of red wine instead. It would certainly be a nice change of pace from the shit-ass beer she sucks down on the regular.

“There he is!” Thalia calls, bursting into applause. “The hell took you so long? Wardrobe malfunction?”

“Yeah,” she hears Percy’s voice. “Someone stole my best pair of tights.”

Turning, Annabeth is suddenly very glad she hadn’t yet ordered a drink, because then she would have dropped it, spilling it all over not only the dirty bar floor, but also her second favorite pair of boots.

It’s definitely Percy, but she never would have spotted him. Having gone to a dozen or so shows with her and Thalia so far, he had always dressed pretty consistently in baggy jeans and whatever stupid dance pun t-shirt Annabeth hadn’t pilfered already to wear to breakfast: very normal, and just a little bit out of place for the goth/punk scene.

Tonight, he is not dressed like that.

She can’t focus on everything all at once, so she starts with his too tight t-shirt, with the logo for Pluto’s Daughter splashed across it, like the artist had taken paint and hurled it at the fabric from a mile away. Ripped and sleeveless, she can see every single ridge and line of his biceps, his forearms, his shoulders, even a bit of his decolletage. His pants are black, per the unspoken dress code, and baggy, but he has belts wrapped up and down his legs, emphasizing the size of his muscular thighs and calves. And that isn’t even the worst part. Neither are the studs in his ears, or the black liner around his eyes.

The worst part is the blue lipstick painting his mouth, making his eyes pop, making his troublemaker smile look that much more depraved.

The worst part is how that blue lipstick will almost certainly be all over her thighs by the end of the night.

Thalia’s advice was never going to win out, but now it has no chance.

Despite being dressed up like the goth ballet prince of her dreams, the hero of an angsty, middle school novel Annabeth might have dreamed up instead of paying attention in class but had been too embarrassed to ever write it down, he smiles at her, cheery and bright as ever, kissing her so deeply her mouth must turn blue. In the corner of her eye, she sees Thalia and Nico exchange a capital-L look, one that Percy can’t see, because all of his attention is focused on her. She doesn’t know what that means, but she’s too far gone to ask.

Percy moves away, still close, still oriented around her, but she has to clasp her own hands together to keep herself from reaching out and pulling him back to her, biting her tongue, rubbing the ring along the inside of her teeth to keep from letting the word “please” escape her lips.

She doesn’t think she’s ever been so instantly taken with any guy—ever. Not even the almost one night stand her sophomore year was college, nineteen and fresh-faced and totally unprepared for the heartbreak that would follow. Last time, Luke had suggested wine to help her get over her mystery man, so that’s what she orders now, taking too big sips and ignoring the slight concern in Percy’s too pretty eyes.

It’s all packaging, she thinks, packaging designed to make the product more desirable. Basic marketing and design. She knows him, and she knows what he can do with his teeth and his tongue and his hand and his dick. She recognizes it, sees it coming, so she won’t be affected by it.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Nico,” she says, wrangling her thoughts together. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Never miss a show,” he says.

“Flew back from London just for it,” Thalia says, bumping him with her shoulder.

“I flew back because my business trip was over,” he corrects. “…But I did take the redeye so I’d be here on time.”

Percy beams at that, so hard she can actually feel it. “Anyone else joining us I should know about?” Annabeth asks.

It’s so weird to look at them all together—all dark hair, strong jaws, cheekbones carved from stone, sexy and just a little bit intimidating. “Any other cousins, maybe?”

Nico glances at Percy, suddenly apprehensive. “Actually, Percy,” he says, “I’m pretty sure I saw—”

“Perseus Jackson!” A whirlwind of blue-green silk assaults her senses as a woman sweeps over to them, headed straight for Percy, almost knocking Annabeth out of the way, wrapping him up in a hug and ignoring everyone else. “How’s my darling little brother?”

Percy awkwardly pats her on the back, shooting a grimace at the rest of them. “Uh, hey, Kym. I… didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It was a last minute thing, I had a free night for once in my life and was casting about for something to do, you know how much I hate not working, and I thought I’d come by and support our dear Hazel.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Since when have you been into goth rock?”

It’s not an unwarranted question. She looks wildly out of place here, in her sleek, silk dress and the scent of Dolce and Gabbana’s Light Blue coming off her like waves, in sharp contrast to the sea of ripped jeans and sewed up shirts that surround them.

Kym, again, ignores him. “Mojito, Perseus? I know it’s your favorite.”

Annabeth’s eyebrows shoot up past her hairline. Percy? Percy half-a-cider-no-thank-you-I-don’t-care-for-any-more Jackson likes to drink mojitos? “Ah—” He grimaces, trying to extract himself from her grip, “no, thank you—"

“Oh, you’re no fun anymore.”

“I just don’t like to—”

“Well it’s not like this place will have any rum worth drinking anyway,” she sniffs.

Thalia rolls her eyes.

“Here, take a selfie with me.” Her phone is already raised, thumb poised for action.

“Kym, come on—”

But she pulls Percy close, shoving his head against hers, mouth already pouting. Thalia sighs, turning back to the bar.

After a moment of refusal, Percy sighs too, giving into his fate, and mustering his best vogue for the camera. They make an odd pair, her with her perfect Instaglam and him with his blue lipstick and smudged liner, but with the two of them pressed together like this, it’s easy to tell that this Kym is another cousin. Same eyes, same brow, same inky black hair, she looks exactly like Percy, only whiter.

Satisfied with her selfie, it’s only then that she notices Annabeth staring at her. “And you are?”

Percy sighs, rubbing his eye. “Kym, this is Annabeth. Annabeth, this is my sister Kymopoleia.”

Kym does not reach out her hand. “And what do you do?”

Thalia, from nowhere, slings an arm over Annabeth’s shoulder, whisky in hand. “Nothing that would interest you, leech.”

“I’m an architect,” Annabeth offers.

“My friend studies at Bartlett, in London. Did you go there?” Kym asks.

“No,” Annabeth says, biting back an automatic retort about Bartlett’s global ranking in Forbes. Ninth in the world, not even top five.

Kym curls her lip a little, like she knew what Annabeth would have said anyway. “What have you designed? Anything I would know?”

“She designs community gardens and stages for festivals.” Thalia says.

“Oh, so not a real architect, then.”

“The Man doesn’t have to approve of something to make it real. No, her name isn’t on file in some state office. She’s an anarchist architect.” Thalia says. Annabeth bits back a line of her own retorts.

Kym sniffs again. “Thrilling.” Then she turns back to Percy, writing her off entirely. “Perseus, it was lovely to see you again—will you be coming to Santorini this year?”

“Depends on my rehearsal schedule.” The words sound very rehearsed. He’s said this exact phrase a lot.

“Well get that sorted out! You know how mother likes her itineraries.”

He nods, beleaguered. “As soon as I can, promise.”

“See that you do.” Then with a final kiss on Percy’s cheek, off she flounces, disappearing into the dirty, grungy crowd, leaving silence in her wake like the wreckage after a storm.

“Okay,” says Annabeth.

Percy sighs, turning to the bar to order his own drink.

“Sorry about that,” says Nico. “If I had known she was coming, I swear I would have told you.”

“You can’t just go around saying the word ‘cousin,’ Annabeth,” says Thalia, returning to her own space. “It’s like Beetlejuice. Say it three times and you summon one of Percy’s douchey relatives.”

“They’re your relatives, too.”

Thalia scoffs. “Barely.”

“Oh yeah?” asks Percy. “How’s Hercules?”

“Hopefully dead.”

“At least he doesn’t show up out of the blue in wildly incongruous places,” Nico points out.

Percy takes a pull of his drink, and Annabeth does not watch his neck as he swallows. “Yeah, what was up with that? Since when has Kym been into goth rock?”

“That’s what I said!”

“She’s planning something,” Thalia mutters, glaring angrily into her drink. “I don’t know what it is, but she’s planning something.”

“So, I’m guessing this isn’t usually her scene?” Annabeth asks.

“Art is her scene,” Thalia replies, gesturing widely, nearly smacking someone in the shoulder. “The whole of the New York art world.”

Looking back around to the half-lit bar full of badly dressed goths, she thinks maybe calling this the “art world” might be a little bit generous.

“She’s kind of like an art world barometer,” says Percy. “Wherever she goes, the critics follow—like little baby ducklings.”

“Too bad she’s a fucking snob about it.” Thalia tosses back the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down on the wood, signaling for another with a toss of her head.

“Shame she has such good taste,” Nico muses.

“She has such good taste!” Despite her bravado, Thalia is absolutely a tiny bit of a lightweight, the whisky already going to her head, slurring her speech just a little. “Whole fucking family’s so goddammed good at art.”

“Not the whole family,” says Percy, shaking his head. “Kym can’t make art, she just appreciates it, like Jason. And Triton can’t do either.”

Annabeth has never seen Thalia so much as draw a picture or pick a song at karaoke, but she had been left out of Percy’s little list. In all Annabeth’s years of knowing Thalia, she never even thought that it had bothered her. “I mean,” she says, “if you like art, you could—”

As one, Nico and Percy both shake their heads. Insistently. Violently.

Staring at her empty glass, Thalia doesn’t notice. Nico replaces hers with his half-finished one, and Thalia drinks without missing a beat. “What about you?” she turns to Annabeth, blue eyes wide. That’s another thing that the cousins all have in common; their eyes are a variety of colors, but they’re all the same wide, almond shape, made more pronounced with heavy, grungy liner. “Got any artistic cousins?”

“No,” she says, wondering how little she can get away with saying. “I only have one, and he’s not.”

Everyone stares at her.

She capitulates, just a little. “His partner is an artist,” she offers. “Alex is a sculptor.”

Percy looks at her, half-smile on his face. “What does your cousin do if he isn’t an artist?”

His question makes it sound like there are only two types of people in the world to him: artists and non-artists. Given that Annabeth had been sketching buildings since the time she had the dexterity to hold a crayon, it might be true. “He’s in med school,” she says, “fourth year, at Harvard.”

“Ew.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Okay, smartass,” she says, “you talk to your podiatrist like that?”

“You still fucking that med student?” Thalia asks Nico.

“Dating him, actually.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Dinner,” Nico says. “Sometimes lunch. This is going to shock you, but you can actually spend time with the people you sleep with, and even develop feelings for them.”

They glare at each other for a long moment, then, as one, turn and glare at Percy.

“No,” he says, “I am not getting in between this.”

Nico, somehow, glares even harder. “Come on, you’re—”

“I’m not talking about this,” Percy says, his face a hard mask, lips set firmly in a frown.

For the first time ever, it occurs to Annabeth that this ballet dancer could be scary if he wanted to be.

That is… so not a problem.

The cousins continue glaring at each other, the family telepathy practically brimming with unspoken pasts. A part of her really, really wants to hear where it’s going. She wants to know what Percy’s feelings are on romance, just to make sure that they are on the same page. Casual sex, fun nights, the occasional concert—that’s where they are now. If the arrangement is going to change, she’s going to need to know about it.

Then, the lights flicker, dimming. A roar takes over the crowd, and when Annabeth can see again, Pluto’s Daughter is onstage.

There’s no introduction, no greeting, the band diving right into their first number, an intense, high-octane whirlwind of drums and bass and screaming. Percy screams right alongside them, hands raised and jumping, Nico and Thalia close behind, every unintelligible lyric learned by heart. Even Annabeth can’t help but get swept up in it, her typical aloofness melting away into the crowd.

It really is a great show.

“That was amazing!” Annabeth is almost breathless at the end of it. Her throat feels raw, like sandpaper, her cheeks aching from smiling.

Percy hands her one of those little plastic cups of water, knocking his own back like a shot, wiping his mouth with his knuckles. “Aren’t they awesome?”

“I had no idea you were such a fan,” she says. “Your Spotify Wrapped must be a mess.”

“I like all music,” he replies, glib. “Even rap and country.”

“Oh, how well-rounded of you.”

“But Pluto’s Daughter is special,” he says. “You know the drummer is my cousin?”

“Very funny.”

“No, really,” says Percy. “Hazel is Nico’s half-sister.”

She blinks at him. “You have too many cousins.”

He just laughs, throwing his head back. “Tell that to our parents.”

Whatever else he might have said gets lost as a small bundle of leather and fishnet emerges from the crowd, launching herself at Percy. “You came!” cries the drummer for Pluto’s Daughter--Hazel. “Oh, I’m so happy you came!”

In stark, stark opposition to how he had been Kym, Percy swings his little cousin around in a big hug. He probably has close to a foot on her, even in her black platform boots, their broad smiles so uncharacteristic in such a dour crowd. Annabeth hadn’t been able to get a good look at her up on stage, but now she’s flush with adrenaline, her dark skin glistening with equal parts sweat and glitter, baby hairs escape from the artful crown of bantu knots, septum ring shining in the dim light of the bar.

“Of course I came,” says Percy, somehow still hugging her. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Ms. Hazel Levesque!” Thalia crows, well and truly wasted. “There’s my gal!” And she rushes over to join them, almost bowling them both over.

A truly affectionate Thalia is rare, like a four-leaf clover or snow on Christmas. It does happen on occasion, if she’s gotten enough sleep or enough to drink, but the moment is usually fleeting, meant to be treasured, kept close to the heart. Annabeth can count the number of times Thalia has been sweet to her on one hand--never cruel, or mean, but just… brusque. Sarcastic. And yeah, sometimes mean, but never in a demeaning way. Just in a Thalia way. It’s one of the many, many things she loves about her.

The only downside to affectionate Thalia right now is that it leaves her alone with Nico.

She doesn’t not like Nico, she just doesn’t really know him. He’s swaying a little, not dangerously so, just vibing to the noise and the booze he’s already had.

“Hey,” he says, lurching over to her. “Got a question for you.”

“Okay?”

“I was. Working on those permits. For your show.” He waves a hand. “Whatever. You know that stage set up for that show in the West Village last winter?"

The first time she had met Nico, Annabeth and Thalia had been helping out one of her friends with their outdoor theater, and had needed a little legal assistance with getting the venue all squared away, as they were technically trespassing on some private property. It was nice to flex her creative muscles, though. She didn’t always get the chance these days.

She nods. “Yeah?”

"Your New York State architect license was on the paperwork."

Annabeth's blood runs cold.

Swallowing away her anxiety, she takes another sip of her water, hoping he’s too buzzed to notice. "What, was I supposed to try and impress Kym with my license?"

Nico snorts. "God, no.” Taking another sip of his drink, he goes to hug his sister, and Annabeth quietly berates herself for not taking care of that sooner.

Yes, her license is still on file with the state, because it’s so much more convenient to leave it like that, rather than let it lapse and reapply every time she has to do something bigger than a birdbath in a tiny community garden, and being registered still means she has access to the network and can apply for certain grants and it always looks good on her portfolio and she didn’t think the two worlds would ever collide, especially not in a place where Thalia, of all people, would ever find out--

“So,” says Percy, sidling back over to her. “Working on anything good?”

She blinks, the spiral of her thoughts coming to a screeching halt. “Huh?”

“Any cool projects on the docket?”

Projects. Right. “Sorta in between projects right now,” she says, tapping her fingers against the bar. “I finished up that community garden a couple months ago, now I’m just… waiting for the next thing coming along.”

He nods. “I feel that. The precarity’s a bitch, isn’t it.”

“Totally. Almost makes you want to work a 9 to 5 just for job security, right?”

“Absolutely not,” he says. “Wouldn’t give up ballet for the world. I could never work in an office; sitting for so long might actually kill me.”

It might--even now he can’t help but move, shifting around on heel to toe and back again. Everything about him is about movement. Even an office where everyone was on their feet, like hers had been, wouldn’t have been enough for Percy Jackson, she thinks.

“What about you?” he asks. “How would you fair in an office?”

“Been there, done that,” she says, before she can even think it through.

“Really?” She sees him scan her. Normally when he does that, he’s thinking of her without her clothes on, but now, she’s pretty sure he’s thinking of the ink that runs up and down her legs, and how that might all look forced into some sort of pencil skirt.

"Once upon a time,” she says.

“Was that before or after you decided to become an anarchist architect?”

Long after she decided to become an architect, but before anything about an anarchist crossed her mind, though her freshman Poli Sci professor, or maybe that sophomore philosophy TA, would probably argue that she isn’t actually an anarchist now. “Before,” she says. “I once tried to be very very different.” Tried and failed, oh so very spectacularly.

“How so?”

She looks at him for a moment. There are layers of mystery that need to be upheld. But she can’t spill her life’s story to Percy after only a few weeks of knowing him, no matter how easy and disarming he may be. She isn’t that girl anymore, and she doesn’t want people to know she ever was. Especially not these people: Thalia, Percy, Nico, even Hazel, who she hasn’t properly met. She can see, standing here, how very genuine and clear they are about themselves. They probably have actual skeletons in their closets, real, agonizing pasts, so much worse than her own.

She doesn’t want them to know she had an honest to god debutante ball. Murder would be vastly preferable. But still, Percy’s eyes are so bright, even in the dark light. His smile is so non-judgmental.

“I used to dream about adding to the skyline,” she says, eventually, “designing something so cool and so fresh that even after I died, everyone would look up and they would know my name.” For a second she thinks he might actually understand. And then she remembers Kym, and his utter distaste for his own sister, whose friend had only managed to get into Bartlett. “But I realized that kind of ego wasn't going to do me any good. And office work wasn’t going to take me anywhere I wanted to go.”

That bruise to her ego still stings, on occasion. That, and the loss of the only thing she’d ever wanted as much as something permanent. They were separate dreams, really, but two years ago, in that little Upper East Side café, they had seemed like one and the same. Failing so spectacularly in one had felt like she might as well throw in the towel about the other.

Percy in blue lipstick, eye liner, and a very tight shirt makes her think it might have been the right choice.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Assuming she never got another call. Though after that award she and Leo got earlier this year…

No, she reminds herself. She shouldn’t dream big anymore. She wasn’t going to get there, and she had to be ok with that.

He smiles, lopsided, sympathetic. “I know what you mean. Like, after so many amazing dancers, you have to be crazy to think that you can add something to the canon, something that’s never been done before. But here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.” She clinks her glass against his, and they drink.

He finishes with a long gasp, licking his lips.

“Wanna go be somewhere else?” she asks.

“Damn right I do,” he says, grabbing her hand, lacing her fingers together with his.

An hour or so and a few orgasms each later, they lie side by side on Percy’s bed, soft and sweaty.

“So your sister is kind of… intense,” Annabeth says.

Percy snorts so hard, Annabeth can feel it vibrating into her. “Yeah. That’s a word for it.”

“What was it like, growing up with her?”

“Oh, I didn’t grow up with her. I grew up here with my mom; she grew up in Athens with our father.”

“In Athens? Cool.” She’d done a study abroad in Rome, but she’d never made it out to Athens like she had wanted. Too much Pantheon, not enough Parthenon. “Have you ever been?”

He screws up his face, thinking cutely. “A few times. They’re not… great memories, exactly. In retrospect, it’s nice that my dad wanted me to feel included, but bringing his mistress’ kid on the annual family vacation to Santorini probably wasn’t his brightest idea.”

Annabeth’s eyes shoot up to her hairline. “Wow.”

“Kym was actually always pretty cool about it,” he continues, thoughtfully. “She likes to pretend she’s this ice queen alpha bitch type, but she’s got a secret soft spot. And my dad’s wife eventually came around--she even sends me a birthday card each year. My half-brother, though.” Percy blows out a breath. “He’s always been a douchebag.”

Dropping a kiss to his bare shoulder, she squeezes him. There’s a story there, but she knows better than anyone about not wanting to talk about bad family relationships. Percy likes Kym, though, and that makes her safe territory. “Tell me more about Kym. You said she was some kind of art collector or something?”

“No, she’s not a collector.” Percy bites his lip, considering. “It’s kind of hard to explain. I guess you could say that she’s, like… a professional socialite?”

Annabeth sits up, squinting down at Percy. “Are you trying to tell me that your sister is a courtesan?”

He sputters, completely taken by surprise, choking on his inhale. After thirty seconds, Annabeth is afraid she’s going to have to try CPR, before Percy starts to calm down. “No,” he wheezes, coughing. “No, she’s not a courtesan.”

“So, what does a ‘professional socialite’ even do?”

“You know, she… socializes.” Percy waves a hand in front of him. “She goes to parties, meets people, facilitates meetings--she socializes.”

Annabeth frowns. “What does that even mean?”

“I literally don’t know how else to explain it to you.”

“What, is she a spy?”

He opens his mouth to argue, then pauses. “Not… technically.”

“Not technically?”

“Think more corporate, less political.”

Okay, now she’s even more confused. “Huh?”

Percy sighs. “My dad runs this big shipping company that does business all over the Mediterranean. Pretty much the whole family works for him in some way: Triton is some kind of assistant executive, and Kym and my step-mom do, you know, outreach or fundraising or whatever.”

She’s silent for a moment, collecting the information presented to her. “Is this some kind of mob thing?”

He grimaces. “Maybe we should change the subject.”

“Is your dad a mob boss, Percy?” Objectively, she knows that the mob is a terrible organization responsible for many different types of atrocities, but honestly, the idea is kind of exciting, Annabeth hooking up with the secret lovechild of a mob boss. It’s romantic and sexy in a film noir kind of way.

“No, he just--does some light smuggling. I think.”

“How does one engage in ‘light’ smuggling?”

“Okay, so his business is totally legitimate, but he may also smuggle art on the side. Or oil. Or both. I don’t know and I’ve been told never to ask.”

And she thought her family was weird. She tells him as much. “That’s wild.”

“Honestly? That’s not even the wildest thing about my family.”

She flops back down on the bed, already exhausted. “Percy, I don’t know how many more revelations about your mob family I can take.”

“They’re not part of the mob!” He laughs. “But,” he smirks, looming over her with a familiar desire, “I can neither confirm nor deny that I had to swear a blood oath to the family when I turned eighteen.”

Rolling her eyes, she still easily submits to the heady feeling of his lips on hers, tilting her head back as he travels down her neck. “Okay, I did not sign up for any Don Corleone bullshit.”

“But you’d make such a great mob wife. Though we would have to kill the rest of my immediate family.”

Annabeth giggles, only partly at the ticklish feeling of his lips between her breasts. “I’d help you kill your douchey half-brother any day.”

He glances up at her from her belly button, long lashes fluttering. “That is legitimately one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Full disclosure, Thalia has already called dibs.”

“That’s fair.” Then she pushes his head down further. “Now get to work, Godfather.”

#IT'S ALIVE #my fic #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #honesty and promise me #darkmagyk #we took a detour to 15th century europe but we're back babeyyy

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emma-what-son · 3 years

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(Echee post) Emma Watson gets drunk and scales a fence naked

Posted on March 20, 2014

In her new interview for Elle Emma admitted something that correlates a tweet from a witness from in July 2011 on location filming Perks of being a Wallflower From snitchseeker.com May 2014, "Among her exploits: She dated a costar Johnny Simmons, and she broke into a swimming pool at 3 A.M. "It was at a hotel," she reports happily. "It had a gate around it. My friends turned around and basically, I was gone. And the next thing they saw was me seven feet up in the air, scaling this fence." This, apparently, is not as out of character as we might suppose. Watson says coyly: "I shouldn’t be able to get away with what I’m getting away with." Here is the tweet from July 2011 and here is a POST I originally posted it in at the time "@_MarieChristine $*MarieChristine; Saw @EmWatson get so drunk that she got naked n climbed the fence to go into the swimming pool at my friend's hotel......http://twitter.com/#!/_MarieChristine." So it was true. I'm not posting the quotes here (I'll link the posts with them below) but to generalize this is a girl that claims to be shy and doesn’t like to party and doesn’t drink to have a good time because it makes her really sleepy and she’s just so boring she says and blah, blah blah. She sucks people in with these statements are herself that makes people like her. It's not just about drinking and getting drunk but everything. Nothing about her is genuine in any shape or form. She is a fraud.

In a recent interview for Wonderland Magazine Emma admitted like she always has which has been one big lie that she's boring and doesn't like being the center of attention.

So in her Wonderland magazine Emma says she shy, socially awkward and a introverted person. For some reason I don't believe her. There are certain things about her that leads me to believe she is not shy or the least bit introverted. The first part of this question asked her straight out as she ever wanted to go off the rails and get drunk and she talked about getting a tattoo but never fully answered that question. The follow up question which is split below in two parts was, "But you’re not as puritanical as that, Emma" So let's look at some thing 1.) From wonderlandmagazine.com Feb 2014, "The truth is that I’m genuinely a shy, socially awkward, introverted person." Posing half naked

For years Emma has said she was shy. From topcelebrityheadlines.com June 2011, "I’m shy." From zimbio.com May 2011, "It's really hard to have a love story for me. I'm a famous actress. And I'm shy." From digitalspy.com October 2010, "Actually, I'm quite shy. I've never liked attention." From iheartwatson.net June 2011 “I still feel shy, but I feel more like I can accept it.” Her come hither looks which I limited for space reasons. There are many and I left out new ones from the Noah premiere. This is not a trait of shy and introverted people.

I doubt a truly shy and introverted people are going to say they'll strip to gain approval for anything. From mtv.com November 2010 (NYC Deathly Hallows) When we caught up with Watson just before she ducked into the theater, we informed her that 90 percent of our viewers had given her wardrobe choice — a specially made Calvin Klein gown — an enthusiastic thumbs-up in an MTV News online poll "Awww, really? Wow, that's such a high percentage!" she exclaimed. "Wow, I aced it, obviously. That's great." While 90 percent is definitely a high number, what might she do in order to get the full 100 percent of viewers' approval? "I don't know, take it off?" she quipped. Then there is her modeling which doesn't strike me as someone that is shy or introverted.

So shy and introverted she can tell a radio host some guy thinks she looks good naked From nudography.com 2008 'Harry Potter' film actress Emma Watson has said she would do a nude scene in a future film or stage role if the script called for it. Watson got on the topic of getting naked on BBC's Live Five radio "I think it's wonderful that Daniel is willing to be so brave for his craft. It's a big risk doing something like this while being so internationally known, but he's a true professional". When asked if she would ever bare all for her art, Watson replied, "Yes, absolutely. I would do it if the script called for it. I guess I would be a little nervous, but I've been told I look good naked, so I guess I've got little to worry about". When Shaffer asked Watson who thinks she looks good naked, she playfully said, "Now, now! I won't say. But I trust his expert opinion." Then there is her attention seeking along with her sultry poses and outfits she sometimes wears. Below is a series of photos from the Cannes for TBR. Everyone is walking up the steps arm and arm but Emma stops to grab the spotlight. Once she takes the arm of a cast mate she can't stop turning around smiling, giggling and waving. Once she gets to the top she hooting and hollering and then blows a series of kisses as her cast mates walk inside. This is not someone that is shy and introverted.

Claiming she wished she did more naughty things is yet another example of what a shy and introverted person would not say. From harrypotterfan.net Nov 2010, "I wished I’d done more naughty things. Three months ago I cut my hair and at that moment I felt I became a woman. I’m ready to start taking risks. I feel less girlish than ever." ... cough ... cough... From emma-watson.net September 2013 (GQ awards), “Given the perilousness in the journey from child star to adult, any award with ‘Woman’ in the title is frankly a relief!” <---- thought she, "I’ve never been in a terrible rush to be seen as a woman.” Then there is the choices of some of her outfits. If you're shy and introverted you're not going to show some flesh and you're certainly not going to show some flesh on TV or at a strip club. The last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself. You'd be more than happy to dress modestly. There are just a few and I limited them for space reason as well. I left out her recent plunging neckline outfit from the Noah premiere in Madrid and many others like her famed 2009 HBP premiere wardrobe malfunction outfit.

From Elle magazine April 2011 iheartwatson.net, "Does having short hair make you dress differently? ’I think it’s made me bolder in my fashion choices. It’s allowed me to dress more sexily.’” cough ... cough... From omg.yahoo.com W magazine May 2013, “I’ve never wanted to grow up too fast: I wanted to wear a sports bra until I was 22! The allure of being sexy never really held any excitement for me. I’ve never been in a terrible rush to be seen as a woman.” Never heard of a shy and introverted person want o dress more sexually because of a haircut. Then there is her constant blowing of kisses which she does a lot of which all the classic pin ups like Marilyn Monroe ands other used to do. I guess it has nothing to do with shyness but introverted people are not going to go around blowing kisses at people or into the camera.

Then there are moments like this. Who does this? Shy and introverted? I think not. This is begging for attention and just plain weird.

Blowing kisses, posing, giving that sultry look and just enjoying all the attention is not the trait of a shy and introverted person.

Now the only thing I believe her on is the socially awkward part.

Now to the second part of that quote 2.) "At a big party, I’m like Bambie in the headlights. It’s too much stimulation for me, which is why I end up going to the bathroom! I need time outs! You’ve seen me at parties, Derek. I get anxious. I’m terrible at small talk and I have a ridiculously short attention span." I doubt this is true. She loves to be the center of attention on red carpets. She loves the attention. So why would parties be any different? At Coachella (bottom left photo) she was moshing at some points on stage.

This video shows her dancing on stage but there is another I lost of a video shooting down from the stage over Emma's head and you can see she's in plain view of the thousands in attendance. When I find it I'll post it. Shy and introverted people that can't take all the stimulation like she says would not put themselves out there amongst strangers and onlookers. If so, what kind of shy and introverted person is that? To see her drunk/leaving clubs and to read her contradicting quotes about drinking click these links below Emma doesn't like to party Emma never goes clubbing Emma can drink like sailor Emma lied about not drinking at Brown So basically like so much I covered on this blog by exposing her BS this is yet another example One more thing and it's a quote I've posted many times but she keeps on changing her tune In this new interview I started this post off with she also said From snitchseeker.com May 2014, "I was being offered roles that I didn’t feel were very complicated," she says. "Women that were a bit one-dimensional. Roles that required me to be one thing. Real women never are." So, rather than embrace mediocre work, she hid out in Providence, Rhode Island, emerging only for projects that would both stretch her muscles and challenge her public persona." But yet she said something different during her time at Brown From aceshowbiz.com November 2010 She tells U.S. magazine Parade, "I get some amazing offers to act, and sometimes it's hard to say, 'No, I'm going to stay here and do my homework.' People are like, 'What do you mean she's not available?' This college experience is really important to me, and I won't give it up." And yet it was not about roles at all two years ago. It was about her studying From nytimes.com September 2012, “Why hasn’t she done more films before now? “I think at first I didn’t because I was always either studying or filming, I didn’t have time to go off and do other films or other things to sort of show people that, Oh, she is not just Hermione, she is an actress and she can go and do these other parts and roles." So which is the truth and which is the lie? So Sam in Perks and Nicki in TBR were complicated roles that she ended up leaving two Universities for? How about her small role in MWWM that took her a little over a week to film?

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ahgasescenarios · 4 years

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Shameless Gawking- Johnny stylist! au

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: suggestive

Plot summary: When you’re hired to style NCT127’s new comeback, you find yourself a little too attracted to infamous Johnny. What will he do when he catches on to how much you’ve been staring at him all day?

When SM Entertainment had hired you as a stylist, you had spent hours mentally preparing yourself for all possible outcomes. You had been assigned to style NCT127’s new comeback “Kick It” this time around, host to a “gangster” thematic which called for more intricate attire that had you up at night touching up on your neatly crafted outfits.

Finally, the day of the MV filming came. You scrutinized the last hangers on your rack, awaiting the presence of the final boy. Johnny. You’d deny it if anyone asked, but you had always felt attracted to Johnny. Maybe he was your “bias” as they’d call it. Regardless, something about him always reduced your calm and collected exterior to shreds. You had momentarily forgotten what outfit you had picked out for Johnny. And as your mind pieced two and two together, you realized today wasn’t going to be any different. He walked over to your “station” (if you could call it that), an aura of confidence surrounding his being.

“Good morning.” A smile traced his perfectly heart-shaped lips and your own heart skipped a beat. You bowed politely and handed him the bundle of clothes you had prepared for him. He chuckled before obliging, walking over to the changing room.

Once he returned, you instinctively took a step back. You just had to have chosen him to be shirtless, the cropped shirt not doing much to cover up his bare (quite muscular if your absentminded staring had served you) torso. It was hard not to drink in his features, how the clothes seemed to have been tailored for his tall frame. It was also getting increasingly hard not to stare at his exposed torso, especially given how hot the man was- face and body. You caught yourself turning red as he approached you, awaiting the next step.

“Um, give me your hand please.”

“I didn’t think we were that close, (Y/N).” He winked. The way you grew flustered from his teasing tone didn’t fail to ease a laugh out of him.

You decided to ignore him and started carefully wrapping up every finger with a white ribbon, so he’d give off more of a “Bruce Lee” vibe. Taeyong had gone through the same process. He was quiet while you did this, threateningly quiet. You glanced sideways to be met with his own eyes staring back at you. Completely clueless of what was going on inside his head, you resumed your handiwork until both hands were wrapped up to your liking.

“All done!” You tried to shake off the tension in the air, growing thicker by the minute.

He stood up, gaining several inches on you. You suddenly felt small as he stood intimidatingly tall next to you. There was only one small detail left and then you could breathe normally again. He needed a necklace. You stood on your tippy-toes, attempting to put it on him and he chuckled, admiring your effort. His hands guided yours and the teamwork finished the look. You tried to pull your hand away but in doing so, it trailed down his torso.

“Shit, sorry.” You didn’t think you had blushed this much in your life; you could feel scorching heat emanating from your cheeks. You could only imagine how damn red you were under your foundation. Thank god for that Fenty Beauty coverage, you thought. But he could see right through you.

There was no doubt about it now, he had been working out. And his skin was so soft, did he use skincare on his body? Your mind wandered to sinful places. You shook it off, acutely aware of Johnny’s unwavering presence in front of you.

“No need to apologize.”

You bowed politely, worlds away from the now and followed him to the first set. You observed the shoot, on the lookout for any wardrobe malfunction, but your eyes gravitated to Johnny every few seconds. He was so charismatic; you just couldn’t look away. You could feel the embarrassingly gathering heat between your thighs when you were merely looking at him. Plus, you had always found this hairstyle suited him perfectly: slicked back, humid as though he’d been sweating from a workout (or something else). You caught your mind traveling to dangerous places once again and wanted the day to be over already so you could regain somewhat of your composure.

Before long, it was time for an outfit change, and you dreaded your inevitable fate. Johnny trotted over, obviously pleased with himself as you handed him his new attire. He took it from you, not without (purposefully) grazing your hand with his own. “Oops”, he mouthed as he left. The vinyl jacket agreed with him, you thought. He was supposed to be a biker in the next scene, and you nodded in satisfaction, he sure looked the part.

When filming began, you found yourself completely mesmerized by Johnny, again. As though you were under his spell. He had noticed your staring all day but had kept his mouth shut, a craftier plan slowly coming to life in his mind. He smirked when he caught your eye.

“Like what you see?” He uttered your way as you handed him his last outfit.

“Well, you’re good at what you do.” You said, barely a whisper. He couldn’t let an opportunity like this go to waste.

“That’s not the only thing I’m good at.” He whispered in your ear, softly enough that you could have just imagined it. The look of shock sprawled on your face confirmed it had been real, though.

The rest of the day, you had voluntarily avoided Johnny. Whenever he’d enter a room, you’d shuffle to the next one, when he looked your way you looked at someone else, and the list went on. It was safer for you to just ignore him; it would make your job a whole lot easier. The day was finally coming to an end and you breathed a sigh of relief, what a day it had been. You gathered the members’ outfits, avoiding eye contact with Johnny and packed up. You were now only missing one necklace which you remembered had been part of Mark’s apparel.

“Hey Taeyong, any chance you know where Mark went?”

“I think he’s looking over some shots with the director.” He smiled to himself, his part had gone according to plan.

You walked over to the main set but were met with an empty room. You looked around curiously until you heard a faint “in here!”. You assumed Mark had noticed he owed you a necklace himself and let your feet guide you to the source of the voice. Changing rooms, that made sense.

A hand dragged you into one of the stalls and you voiced your surprise.

“Jesus Christ, Mark was that necess-“

You interrupted yourself when you saw, not Mark, but Johnny standing before you. Your brows contorted into the signature look of bewilderment.

“Johnny?”

“You see, (Y/N) you’ve been sending me here all alone all day, I thought it was about time you’d join me.”

“What are you-“

“Oh come on, don’t you think I’ve noticed you eye-fucking me all day? You’re not exactly subtle, sweetheart.”

You looked down nervously, you had been caught red-handed. He lifted your chin, that cocky smirk making a comeback on his lips.

“I didn’t say I minded, did I?”

You were frozen on the spot.

“Answer when I’m talking to you, kitten.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Now, now what am I going to do with you? Shamelessly gawking at me like that when all my members can see…”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. He was enjoying every second of this.

“That deserves some punishment, wouldn’t you agree?” He pulled you towards him, squeezing your ass. Your breath was caught somewhere in your throat and your mind was clouded by a fog of emotions; you had not expected this. But you couldn’t say you didn’t like it, this is exactly where your mind had been hinting to all day.

___________________________________________________________

a/n: hehehe I know I’m cruel but let me know if you guys want a smutty part two!! Idk about you guys but this comeback has me feeling some type of way so I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing this and thanks so much for reading 😊

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Read Part 2 here

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edelwoodsouls · 3 years

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maybe in another universe - ch. 2 [fic]

Jon isn’t expecting anything good when he’s evacuated to the countryside. Living with his crush rival he can just about handle. The secret magical world in the upstairs wardrobe, on the other hand, might just break him.

AKA: Narnia AU

Word Count: 3,570 | Also on Ao3 | Chapters: 1,

chapter two: in the land of the watcher

It's raining.

No, that's not really a good word for it. The skies have split open and are casting down an ocean, and usually Martin would thrive, curl up with a collection of Keats or Wordsworth and have melancholy thoughts as he stares at the grey clouds above.

But no such luck. He's been forced out of his room by Ms Perry, the iron-fisted housekeeper - all four of the teenagers have been relegated to the library, where they can supposedly do as little harm as possible.

It's a tense affair. Basira is curled on one of the sofas with an Ancient Greek to English dictionary and a battered book that looks like it's been set on fire several times. Melanie has managed to pry one of the ceremonial swords off the wall, and is practicing swinging it at precarious angles.

Jon is most definitely not reading the crumbling tome clutched in his hands, though he's trying very hard to pretend. Martin can feel the eyes boring into him, sat where he is in the middle of the room, legs crossed in front of a large, malfunctioning radio.

He's been trying to get it fixed for what feels like hours now, to cling to the pulse of information that has been snatched away in this remote and antiquated house. He can feel Jon getting closer and closer to the end of his very thin patience with every jump of static.

After what feels like the millionth time of almost, when he can feel Jon's irritation about to froth at his lips, Martin finally throws his screwdriver on the ground. The silence in the room is overbearing. "Let's play a game."

"Yes," Melanie says immediately, accentuating the word with an alarming jab of her sword in his direction. "What're you thinking?"

"Hide and seek," Basira chimes in, looking up from her book with a smirk. "This house looks brilliant for it."

"I second that," Melanie nods. "Martin?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Sounds like fun."

"Three votes for hide and seek. It's decided then."

"Don't I get a vote?" Jon mutters, not looking up from where he's gripping his book very tightly.

"No, Jon, you don't, because you're a spoilsport and you'll suggest something like re-alphabetising the library or being good little so and sos. And even if you did, majority rules. So-" Melanie thrusts her sword an inch from Jon's face, "buck up and join in, or fuck off."

Jon looks about ready to attempt murder with his bare hands, but before he can get a word out, Melanie throws her sword dramatically onto the floor with a loud clatter, and closes her eyes. "ONE... TWO... THREE..."

Martin grins as he pulls himself off the floor and flees for the door. It's been a long time since he's felt young enough to play games, let alone had the friends to play them with. There's something so childish, so delightful, about running in a place not meant for running, folding himself into somewhere hidden and waiting with baited breath to be found.

Being hunted, without the consequence of failure.

Jon barrels past him, arms flailing. Martin's never seen him run but god, he's fast. He shoots down the corridor and vanishes behind a flurry of curtains.

Martin continues on until he reaches a closed door. Behind him he can hear Melanie's counting, yelled at the top of her lungs - no doubt the housekeeper will kill them later for disturbing the professor. She's nearly finished, and the adrenaline pounding in Martin's veins is reaching heights it hasn't in weeks, and he needs a hiding place now.

There's a spider's web strung in the corner of the doorway, a tiny house spider nestled at it's centre. Almost invisible, if not for Martin's keen eyes, his bone-deep expectation that he'll find at least one no matter where he goes.

It's just a spider, he tells himself, and the thought sounds hollow even to him.

But he throws open the bolt of the door anyway and tumbles into the room, slamming it haphazardly closed.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the door, and that's why it takes him so long to notice the ornate wardrobe at the other end of the room. There's nothing else here, as if this space was designed solely to house a single piece of furniture.

And it's beautiful, deep maroon wood carved with all sorts of imagery Martin can't make sense of - eyes staring out unblinking from one door, webs strung across the other, both surrounded and wreathed in flames.

Some nameless thing in his gut calls him forward.

The click of those carved doors opening sounds too loud, like the snap of fingers right beside his ear. A breeze dances across his cheeks, though the doors and windows are closed, and the collection of coats inside are still.

Without thinking, he delves in.

He should be surprised by the winter wonderland at the back of the wardrobe.

Somehow, he isn't.

The world in the wardrobe seems to go on forever. He's been wandering for miles, he's certain of it - the chill is beginning to set into his fingers, kept at bay only by the adrenaline still humming through his body at the sheer magic of it all.

Suddenly, ever pretending that magic wasn't real seems like such a childish thing to do. It's right here, in front of him. The snow soaks through his shoes, collects in his hair. His breath puffs in little clouds before his face.

Just an hour ago, he was staring at a dreary English afternoon.

He's definitely not in England anymore.

Still, even with all this magical strangeness, he's not expecting the lamp post. Stood proudly alone in a clearing, as if the other trees have shrunk away from its alien material. It's lit, casting a faint glow on the snow, and he can hear the burn of gas inside the glass.

He stops short. "What."

He hovers at the edge of the clearing, unwilling to disturb the perfect snow circling this strange spectacle. It feels reverent, deferential - something that shouldn't be here, even with all its magic. It feels wrong.

"You're not from around here."

Martin yelps, attempting to spin around too fast to look behind him. Instead he trips over his own feet and goes tumbling into the snow, sending eruptions of white powder up into air.

The voice that startled him laughs, a low and dry sound. "Sorry, friend. Didn't mean to startle you."

Martin's view is obscured by his damp curls and the snow beginning to drip into his eyes, but he just about makes out the hand gloved in fingerless black leather thrust into his face. Each joint is marked with ink, and Martin could swear every symbol is a wide, unblinking eye.

He accepts the proffered hand instinctively, hauled up with surprising strength into standing on his feet.

"Thanks," Martin says, cheeks bright pink not just from the cold.

The figure laughs again, shifts into the pool of light under the lamp post - and Martin gets his first real look at the man. Long, inky hair falling into his eyes. His clothes are a mismatch of leather and dark-dyed fabric that look old, in a way that defies a specific era of fashion but gives a distinctly archaic feel.

The guy brushes his hair behind his ear, revealing his face - five o'clock shadow curving along his sharp jawline, and the longest eyelashes Martin's ever seen, and bright, dark eyes.

For a moment, Martin short-circuits.

"Do you have a habit of falling head over heels for strangers?" the man grins. From deep in his pockets he procurs a metal lighter and a pipe. He leans easily against the lamp post, as if it's totally meant to be there, and takes a drag. The smoke that reaches Martin is strangely sweet and spiced, like cinnamon and cloves.

"Uh, no," Martin says, brushing the snow off his clothes distractedly. "You just startled me."

"I'm very sorry," the guy says. He sounds more amused than anything. "Where are my manners? I'm Gerry."

"Martin."

"Nice to meet you, Martin. You're not from around here, are you?"

"No," Martin frowns. "How did you know?"

"Well, for one thing, you're human."

"I'm- sorry?"

"Human. Homosapien. Son of Adam. Take your pic, really, there are so very many labels."

"I guess? Are you-"

Martin cuts himself off as Gerry shifts his weight and the folds of his clothes settle differently, revealing his legs. Unlike the rest of his ensemble, they're clothed in fur that looks like it was originally some ochre shade, and has been dyed rather shoddily black.

Except they're not clothed...

"You're a goat," Martin blurts out, nonplussed, the filter between mouth and brain paper thin.

"I'm a satyr," Gerry frowns in mock admonishment. "Hint two that you're not from around here - that's incredibly rude of you."

"Oh! Uh, sorry."

"I'm messing with you, Martin," Gery grins, a glint-toothed expression that makes Martin slightly dizzy. "But yes, I'm not human. No one born under the eye of the Ceaseless Watcher is."

"I'm sorry, the...?"

"Ceaseless Watcher." Gerry's easy grin flickers, his eyes darting towards the trees. Martin follows him instinctively, but sees nothing except the vanishing darkness of the trees. "The god of Magnus."

"And Magnus is...?" Martin feels very far behind in this conversation.

"This land. Everything you can see in this winter world, from sea to mountains to sky- that's Magnus."

"Right... so I got here how?"

Gerry shrugs. "Who can say, really. The magic here is- unpredictable. Has a mind of its own."

"Magic," Martin repeats. Unsure how to feel about this word being thrown out like they're talking about gravity, or the alphabet - institutional. Factual.

"Magic," Gerry agrees, smirking at Martin's bemused expression.

He should really be getting back. The thought appears distantly, lethargically. He's getting cold, and the others will no doubt be getting worried about him. Or Melanie will, at least. He can imagine Jon rolling his eyes. He's probably gotten stuck somewhere and can't get out. He'll come wandering in eventually.

But Martin doesn't really want to leave. He wants to continue on this adventure, explore this world that believes in magic like it believes in the sunrise each morning.

He wants to keep talking to this mysterious, incredibly pretty man. Goat. Satyr.

"You look cold," Gerry notes, offering Martin a drag of his pipe. Martin accepts more out of instinct than anything, cringeing as the fumes make him choke. "Come back to mine for tea? I just got some amazing jasmin tea from a dryad who owed me a favour, and I promise it's worth the walk."

Martin hesitates, for just a moment. Considers the risks of wandering off with a strange man he met in the woods.

"Just as long as it's not oolong," he says eventually, with a shudder. "I'd love to."

Gerry loops their arms together and begins leading him into the woods. "No oolong, I promise."

Gerry, as it turns out, lives in a cave.

It's a very nice cave, Martin has to admit. The walls are lined with bookshelves packed to bursting - tomes titled in some language he can't read that, as he stares at the letters, suddenly begin to make sense. The floor is covered up by rugs, vibrantly coloured and filled with detail. He feels almost guilty stepping onto them with his wet shoes, walking over intricately stitched faces and landscapes.

He turns to see Gerry tapping the snow off his hooves with a cute little dance, before shrugging off his long leather coat, revealing a waistcoat - and nothing else - beneath. Martin can see now, without a doubt, the thickly haired legs beneath his long grey skirt. There are burn scars crawling across his bare arms - across most available skin.

There are more eye tattoos, too, starkly black against his pale skin. When Martin stares for too long, he's convinced he can see some of them blink.

"Take a seat," Gerry says, nodding towards a pair of invitingly soft arm chairs positioned next to a fireplace.

As Martin sinks thankfully into the chair - he hasn't had to walk that far, possible ever - he watches, transfixed, as Gerry flicks his hand in the direction of the fireplace.

It bursts to life instantly.

"How did you do that?" he asks, eyes wide.

"What?" Gerry blinks momentarily. "Oh, that- magic. A gift from the Lightless Flame."

"The Lightless Flame?"

"One of the gods of Magnus."

"I thought you said the- the Ceaseless Watcher was the god of Magnus?"

Gerry lets out a laugh, low and bitter. "The only one that matters. All the others have... not faded, exactly. Retreated, you could say. Bowed down. The Ceaseless Watcher rules these lands. All others pay subservience."

"Right." The dark tone in Gerry's voice is beginning to unnerve him.

"Doesn't mean there aren't those of us who don't give a shit," Gerry shrugs, that easy demeanour plastering over the top of whatever just slipped out - though now Martin has seen it, the mask doesn't quite seem to fit. "We pay what we have to, to stay alive."

Martin nods wordlessly. He can understand that.

"I'll just make some tea," Gerry continues, darting up some steps towards what Martin assumes must be a kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable!"

Martin adjusts in his seat. Breathes in the quiet, broken only by the steady crackling of the fire beside him. He can feel it, already, beginning to scare the chill from his fingers, beginning to lull any of his hesitations.

A strange rush of adrenaline floods him suddenly at the thought. He sits up, threads his fingers together, eyes darting around the space.

He's forgotten what it is to be comfortable, he realises. This feeling lowering him gently into calm is unnatural, alien - and not to be trusted.

Before he can begin to think about that too deeply, Gerry reappears, two steaming cups in hand. Martin accepts it gratefully, trying to shelve his discomfort for another day's mental spiral.

He'd hate to ruin the first nice thing to happen to him in a while.

"Is it always so cold here?" he asks, taking a careful sip and sighing as it warms him almost instantly. "Where I came from, it was summer. I mean, it was a horribly rainy summer, but still."

Gerry lets out a small laugh. "It's always winter here."

"Always? Like, never anything else?"

"That is the definition of always. But yes, that's the general idea. Summer is too- positive, for Magnus. Winter is hopeless and dreary and lonely. There is far more to fear in a winter's night."

"That's not at all ominous."

"The lack of change is terrible, too," Gerry continues. His eyes are fixed on the fire, the flames casting strange shadows across his skin. "We don't even get Christmas to look forward to."

"You have Christmas?" Martin frowns. "In Magnus? As a concept, at least? I thought that was a particular religious holiday in my world."

Gerry shrugs noncommittally. "There are many winter traditions that overlap. Some things bleed from one world to another. Maybe it started here, for all you know."

Martin opens his mouth to argue about the improbability of all this, but quickly shuts it again. He's only just been introduced to magic and other worlds - and he's pretty sure logic isn't going to enter the equation any time soon.

"What's it like in your world?" Gerry asks suddenly, fixing Martin with a curious, almost hungry look. "Much better than here, I'd suppose."

"I wouldn't count on it," Martin laughs sharply. "There's a huge war going on. Thousands die on the battlefield. Thousands more die back home as the world sets itself on fire. It's- a nightmare."

Martin curls his hands close around his cup, letting the heat burn his hands. The pain sharpens his senses, grounds him in this moment, before memories of smoke and flame can consume him.

"I'm sorrry," Gerry says softly. "That sounds awful."

"Heh," Martin tries for a weak, concillatory smile, though he's sure it falls short. He covers it up with another sip of tea.

Gerry starts talking again, but Martin can barely hear the words. There's a sudden distance to the world, for all that he clings harder to his scalding mug, for all he tries to keep his eyes wide. The sound is muffled, and his vision of the room is beginning to blur.

He has just enough time to look at his cup of tea, at the earthy sediment he can just about make out swirling at the bottom, before understanding, and horror, and a hundred other things crash into him.

But he's asleep before his cup hits the floor.

He wakes slumped in the armchair, and for a moment can't remember where he is. The fire has been snuffed out, leaving only smoking remains, and the chill is beginning to leach back into Martin's bones.

The cave is dark. Martin shifts, groggy- and regains his senses with a suddenly sharpness as he catches movement on the other side of the room.

Gerry is hunched on the stairs towards the kitchen, staring vacantly at his hands, at the eyes on his knuckles. He doesn't seem to notice Martin at all.

"Gerry?" Martin says softly, standing up carefully. His cup lies in shards on the floor, a pool of stone-cold tea leaking from the ruins. He can't remember dropping it.

He can't remember falling asleep.

"I'm sorry," Gerry whispers, so quietly it's barely more than a snatch of air.

"Why?" A chill trickles down Martin's spine; it's nothing to do with the cold of the room. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I didn't- I don't want-"

"Gerry," Martin says, and there's an edge of steel in his voice that doesn't leave room for debate. "Tell me what's happening."

The satyr looks up finally, and somehow Martin isn't surprised that his eyes are glowing bright green, like lanterns in the dark.

"We pay what we have to, to stay alive."

The chill in Martin's veins solidifies to ice. "What did you pay? What do you have to do?"

He already knows the answer, in the hummingbird beat of his heart, in the shortness of his own breath. And still, it feels like a hammer blow, like the slam of a coffin lid, when Gerry speaks.

"You."

"Me?"

"Humans," Gerry says, voice rough and shaking, like he's barely holding himself together. "They aren't native to these lands. They don't exist here. If they ever come, if there's enough of them, they say the end of the Ceaseless Watcher will be near. The world will finally change."

"I'm just one person, though."

"Not for long," Gerry shakes his head emphatically. "Where there's one, more will always follow. So- he kills them."

"Who kills them?" Martin demands. "Stop being so fucking cryptic and explain things to me."

"The pupil of the eye."

Martin is just about ready to hit this guy.

"We're supposed to give him any humans we find," Gerry rushes to explain. "I'm supposed to send you to him."

"But you're not going to, right?" Martin says slowly, inching towards the poker by the fire. It's an impromptu weapon, but it just might buy him a few seconds. "Because I dazzled you so much with my company that you've decided to have a change of heart?"

For a moment, the silence stretches, and Martin is certain he's about to have to fight for his life.

Even with all the unexplained magic in his life, he doesn't like his chances.

Something changes in Gerry's face. He sets his jaw, balls his fists. He blinks, and his eyes return to their normal, unfathomably dark shade.

"No," he says. "I'm not going to. Come on."

Before Martin has a chance to register anything, Gerry seizes his hand and drags him out into the snow.

They run. For what feels like hours, rushing past a blur of trees and ice and rock so fast Martin is sure it must be some type of magic. Gerry's grip is vice-like, but Martin only clings harder.

He imagines bombs falling behind him. A world of darkness and debris, too hot for the season as fires burn through its skyline.

Has he really just traded one daydream-turned-nightmare for another?

When they reach the lamp post's clearing, Gerry skids to a sudden stop, kicking up snow in a shower. He turns to Martin, wild-eyed with a feverish adrenaline.

"You know your way frrom here?" he demands, gripping Martin's arms and searching his face for the answer before he has a chance to speak.

"Uh- yeah- I think so," Martin stutters.

"Good. You need to run. Don't stop, don't talk to anyone - or anything, not even yourself. The trees might hear you."

"The trees?"

"There are eyes everywhere."

Somehow, Martin gets the feeling Gerry isn't being figurative.

"What about you?" he asks. "If the- pupil of the eye, what if he finds out you didn't turn me over?"

Gerry gives him a pained smile. "Run, Martin. While you still have the chance."

"But-"

"I'm so glad to have met you." The way Gerry says this, so softly, so sincerely, brings Martin up short. "Now go."

He doesn't need telling again. With one final, memorising glance at Gerry, a dark figure among a landscape of snow-

Martin flees into the dying night.

#the magnus archives #fanfiction #narnia au #martin blackwood #gerard keay #own work #morgan writes

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