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recycledmoviecostumes · 3 years

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Goodness do I have a treat for all of you today. Larry McQueen, owner of The Collection has sent me a lovely sighting filled with detailed information. Because the detail is frankly incredible, I decided not to edit it and present Larry’s notes in full below:

In 1936, Travis Banton, head designer at Paramount Studios, began work on the last film he would design for his favorite clotheshorse, Marlene Dietrich. The duo had worked closely together on all her films at Paramount and created the “Dietrich style”-- a look of lavish, smoldering, hard-edged sophistication that was instrumental in creating the Dietrich legend.

Dietrich had one final film to complete her contract at Paramount and was cast in a typical Dietrich vehicle Angel, a sophisticated Lubitsch melodrama with her in the role of an ignored wife of means who has an affair with her husband’s friend. Banton designed the most opulent dress he had ever created for the star for the under-five-minute opera sequence and preceding scenes in the film. The ensemble was to become known as the “Faberge” gown and consisted of a fitted long-sleeve bodice with peplum, a matching long skirt with train and a six foot stole bordered with sable. The fabric was solidly embroidered with gold beads, pearls, rhinestones, gold bullion, gold sequins and faux ruby and emerald stones in geometric designs. According to W. Robert Levine in his book “In A Glamorous Fashion,” the costume was cost-listed on the wardrobe records at $8,000.00, an exorbitant price in the post-depression era and a price that would be over $100,000.00 by today’s standards. The expense must have caused stirrings in Paramount’s upper management in a time when the government was asking the studios to scale back the unnecessary lavishness in costume design. Banton himself once said it was the most expensive gown he had ever designed.

The ensemble is given credit in many film costume books as the most spectacular gown ever created. Diana Vreeland, one-time curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art said of the costume in the book “Hollywood Costume– Glamour! Glitter! Romance!” “When I think of detail, I think of Travis Banton’s marvelous beaded dress for Marlene Dietrich in Angel—like a million grains of golden caviar. That is one of the most beautiful dresses ever…”. Margaret J. Bailey in her book Those Glorious Glamour Years describes the dress “It was simple in lines, of Persian design, and looked like a piece of woven jewelry…” and “… caused no little trauma on the set when producers refused to give it to Dietrich for her private wardrobe.”

Dietrich had loved the gown and asked the studio if she could keep it. It is said she was so angry of being refused by the company she help save, she stormed off the set. The incident no doubt added to her disharmonious departure from the studio. She left the studio and did not return until a decade later. Acquiring gowns and props from her films- by whatever means- was a general practice of Ms. Dietrich. After her death, The German Film Archive Foundation (die Stiftung Deutsche Kinemathek) and The Berlin Film Museum acquired her estate in 1993, which consisted of five different storehouses in Europe and the USA. In the collection were thousands of items from her career including fifty of her most famous film gowns. Her daughter, Maria Riva, once told the curator of the Frankfurt Film Museum, her mother was always in constant fear the studios would someday try to take back her collection and had kept the fact of its existence well hidden.

Paramount, however, retained the piece and began to put it to use. Re-using costumes was a common practice by studios to maintain an opulent look to secondary and background characters without the expense of making new ones. It is unknown exactly how many films the Dietrich gown was used in, but from photos found, it is obvious it was put to work and went through many transformations in the process. Mary Astor wore it, without the stole on the set of Midnight, 1939. The front was reworked and worn by Rose Hobart in the film A Night at Earl Carrolls, 1940. It was used in publicity photos as in that of Loraine Day circa 1944. With the sleeves removed, the stole without the fur was added to the front of the bodice as draping, it was worn by Felicia Atkins in The Errand Boy, 1961. The stole was cut in half to be used as a turban and worn with a sleeveless altered bodice by a model in A New Kind of Love, 1963. In 1974, the bodice was put back together and used by Diana Vreeland in the MET exhibition of films fashion and in 1985, the gown and stole was returned to its original configuration and worn by Barbara Hershey in the TV movie My Wicked Wicked Ways.

With all the different uses, the pieces took a beating. Many of the “re-workings” were fast and crude and some of the attempts to repair the gown involved covering damaged areas with large gold sequins. One previous ‘restoration’ involved applying glue to areas and pushing the beads back together and letting it harden. The fine chiffon backing was weak and starting to split and the patterns were separating. The costume was so fragile, it could never be worn again, but it is amazing the pieces stayed together.

In December of 1990, Paramount put the gown up for auction at Christies New York as part a larger collection of ‘star wardrobe.’ Larry McQueen and his late business partner, Bill Thomas, who were respected experts in the field of film costumes and had compiled one of the finest collections of the medium under the name “The Collection,” were retained to help inventory, authenticate and price the collection and were overwhelmed to see, what they believed to be, the most exquisite film costume ever created. They were successful in purchasing it for a total cost of approximately $23,000.00, one of the highest prices at the auction. As excited as they were to own the gown, the reality of its condition soon set in. Due to the age of the garment, poor storage and multiple alterations, it could never be dressed on a mannequin because it would not support its own extreme weight.

In 1999, four years after Bill Thomas died, Larry McQueen began the process of restoring the costume. Museum experts in preservation and restoration were consulted and much debate occurred as to whether the integrity of the gown- however poor that integrity was- should be tampered with. It was finally decided by Mr. McQueen that instead of leaving it as it was- a box of un-showable beads- the ensemble should be restored. Getson/Eastern Embroidery, who was then owned by Annie Dernderian, was approached with working on the gown. The firm had worked on the original costume and luckily had many of the beads, sequins and stones used on the original construction.

But, restoration of the garment proved far more difficult than planned. Even though the gown had only taken weeks to create, it would take years to restore. Every inch of the beadwork would have to be attached to new chiffon backing and the patterns pulled into shape and lightly tacked. Then the patterns had to be permanently hand stitched, replacing any missing stones or beads. Previous poor repairs would have to be removed. Missing areas or areas that had been glued would have to be replaced. Many of the original silk threads that attached the beads were breaking and would have to be reinforced with new silk thread. The stole, which had been cut in half and then stacked on top of its self and re-sewn, had to be taken apart, attached to a new backing and the beading attached and corrected. Photographs of Dietrich wearing the costume were enlarged to determine what was an original pattern and what had been changed. Luckily, the patterns did repeat themselves, so where a pattern was missing, a template of an existing pattern was made to re-create the missing one. The task would involve going inch by inch and would involve thousands of hours and great expense. But, determined to see the gown restored, Larry McQueen had the work begun.

The gown could not be taken apart and beaded flat as it was originally constructed, so a special frame with a sling had to be constructed to allow access to the inside of the garment to work from the front and the back of the fabric. Beads and sequins that had to be removed were sorted and reattached in to same location if possible. Only a four-inch area could be worked on at one time and each area was photographed before and after to document the work done. The project was daunting.

The entire fabric of the costume is composed of repeating geometric shapes somewhat like a paisley pattern. Each shape is outlined with small pearls or faceted rhinestones. Beads, pearls or sequins in different combinations fill the center portions of the design. Throughout, are patterns that contain a small grid work of bullion threading and each square filled with small pearls, sequins or a combination of sequins and gold beads. The background is of solid gold rocaille beads and the gown is sporadically studded with emerald and red glass beads. Literally millions of beads were used to create the fabric of the ensemble.

After one year, only the bodice was approaching completion, most of the work done by Annie Denderian. But the expense was mounting and it was becoming impossible to find qualified people who had the patience and time to spend on the garment. Mr. McQueen decided that if the costume was to be completed, he would have to take over the bulk of the hands-on restoration. Having the background and more importantly the motivation to see the gown completed, he was mentored by Ms. Denderian, learning and perfecting the techniques to painstakingly re-attach the patterns and began work on the dress. Almost one year to the date of beginning the work- working faithfully five to eight hours a day- the skirt and the stole were completed. To add strength, bias tape reinforcing and a new silk chiffon lining was added by the costume house of John David Ridge and the stole was re-bordered by using existing sable by Judith Moss at LA Fur Center.

McQueen stated that he probably would have reconsidered restoring the gown had he know the time, patience and expense it was going to take, but then quickly adds that he would have done it anyway. It was just too important. In working that closely with the piece, McQueen was amazed how in touch you get with the people who originally created the garment (a process difficult to understand unless you have restored someone else’s creation). You could tell when someone was having a bad day and cutting corners. You could tell when someone was struck with genius. You could see the differences in workmanship and technique between the various beaders. You could see the time spent on details in areas that no one would ever see. You become very close to the garment and understand it.

The gown is truly a testament to the artistry of early Hollywood. Mr. McQueen is confident the care, attention and over 3000 hours spent in its restoration would make its original creators proud. He hopes that if he leaves any legacy to the field of film costumes, one of his main accomplishments will be the “Faberge gown” survives in the splendor it was originally created and will be shown and appreciated for generations to come.

Costume Credit: Photos, copy and all the above incredible info provided by The Collection of Motion Picture Costume Design: Larry McQueen

E-mail Submissions: [email protected]

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Note: If you’ve not checked out Larry McQueen’s The Collection, I highly suggest you do so. It’s incredible!

#Marlene Dietrich #travis banton #mary astor #larry mcqueen #the collection #costume drama #costumes #period drama #fallen angel #midnight #a new kind of love #the errand boy #my wicked wicked ways

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banqdanfnfic · 3 years

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which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

1K notes · View notes

neko-rogers · 3 years

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But It’s Better If You Do

Trying to keep your relationship with your professor was easy enough, until you learned that someone had found out about it.

words: 7,424 tags: manipulative!peter, explicit noncon/dubcon elements, degredation, implied overstimulation, blackmailing, kidnapping, college student and professor relationship,

a/n: whew this had a lot of words compared to what i usually write. plus, since im bad at titles, i’ll just use my fav song titles lmao. (ps. erik lehnsherr aka magneto is here and im just glad i could put him in my little fictional world bc im d biggest slut for him)

A complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

The man in front of the class was practically pouring his heart out into the lecture. The chalkboard was filled with white letterings from left to right, not knowing where to start as you take down notes.

“It is important to keep in mind that bimolecular structure and function are dictated by the properties of the medium in which they are dissolved,” your professor explains while continually pacing from one end to the other among the students seated at the first row.

You decided to seat around the middle to the last row, knowing it was the least obvious way for other students in the class to notice how much you fawn over your Organic Chemistry professor rather than the subject itself.

Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours. All those information he had been discussing would not actually process through your thoughts. You knew that better than anyone.

But who honestly would invalidate your reason? Everyone can probably relate to hating Chemistry, no matter what subcategory it is.

Considering that this was probably one of the most difficult courses you had in your program. You were just thankful and lucky enough you landed on one of the hottest professors amongst the campus.

“Hey what did Professor Lehnsherr say about the problems during synthesis of proteins?” Peter asks.

In spite of being fortunate about everything else about this subject, you were not quite happy about Peter Parker following you around like a lost puppy. Especially during the classes you both have alike.

The boy constantly asks so much questions as if you were the teacher already. In addition, he seemed smart enough to figure things out yet somehow he keeps on bugging you for reassurance.

You did not want to be rude. He has not done anything to completely deserve your rage, however he was definitely getting on your nerves.

Honestly you would not want to be infuriated over his consistent queries, but you were just as distracted as he was, maybe even more. With this, you were looking dumber to him each day.

To anyones pride, it was probably a kick in the stomach. You knew you were not the brightest in this class, but it was best to leave the information to yourself. No need for anyone to point out how mindless you were.

And you really were not. You had other Science subjects you totally excel at. Sadly, Chemistry was just not one of them.

“Well, uh, I don’t think I got that part either.” You look aside where he was seated and awkwardly smiled at him before mentioning an apology, “Sorry, Peter.”

In return, Peter smiled at you and dismissed the question. You were not so sure whether to forget about it or take even the least bit of offense. You felt a little mocked by how easily he did it and innocently he smiled, but maybe you were just overthinking this through.

“It’s fine,” he tells. “I just didn’t get the third bullet, but I’ll try to review it in the textbook when I get home.”

“Oh okay, sure.”

“Speaking about reviewing,” Again, Peter tries to start another discourse.

“I was wondering if you got reviewers for the upcoming text for next week? We all know how difficult Professor Lehnsherr’s exams can get, right?” He lets out a forced chuckle, assuming it could lighten the mood.

As much as he tried to make small talks with you, almost everyday, today you really feel like you did not want to return the favor. Especially after having to bring up the test next week.

“I don’t really make reviewers, I usually just scan the books I have at home.”

Lies. You probably have a box full of index cards and sticky notes in your room.

You tried to use every studying tips every corner of the Internet could give. All those study-life hacks that really did not help much but pile up to your disorganized state of mind.

You fucking tried to study Chemistry. You really did.

“What, you don’t?!” He suddenly exclaims, not realizing the loudness of his voice as it almost caught the attention from people at front. “You seem to be busy all the time though. It’s like I always catch your writing or reading something in class.”

Maybe your mood was just off but it definitely seemed weird for him to say that. Though, you did not want to make something from what he said. It was not worth your time.

“I guess people are not always what they seem to be, yeah?”

Again, Peter gives out that soft chuckle and smile, “Then I guess so. You do make a point.”

He does not argue with you any further.

“Can I at least borrow your Physics book? I only bought Chemistry and Biotech for the semester. Didn’t know they would actually utilize it for once,” he scoffs.

At first you hesitated. You were reviewing for it too, but you already felt bad for being no help whenever he asks a question and often times disregarding him when your mood if off. Plus, you did just make it look like you were not much of a study-freak.

“Okay.”

He instinctively fist pumps the air and looks at you with a wide, grateful grin. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“Don’t mention it.” You grab the book he needs from your bag and hands it to him. He accepts it and places it inside his while also clearing the rest of his things.

Looking at his digital wristwatch wherein he raised his index finger up as if he figured something out of it, he says, “He’s going to dismiss the class in a few minutes. We should get ready for Cell Biology next period.

Oh how you hated it. Were you jumping to conclusions? Or was this boy really trying to be too close with you? Or was he just being nice and informing you to prepare ahead?

God, you did not give Peter Parker the right to cloud up your thoughts like this.

“Thanks,” you say, “but I need to talk to Professor Lehnsherr after class. Have to, uh, consult him about my concept paper that he made us submit last week.”

As he tidies his notebooks up and carelessly shoves it inside his backpack, he immediately looks back at you with a confused expression, “Oh, I can always wait for you–”

“It’s fine, Peter. Thank you though.” Two of your hands were instinctively waving in front of you, a meek gesture for him to stop coddling you or whatever move he had been trying to make at you.

“Are you sure? I–”

And if you were ought to be saved further from lashing out over Peter’s incessant attempts, you finally heard the words any student was longing to hear. “Class dismissed. I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Eri–err, Professor Lensherr just dismissed the class. Better catch up to him before he heads out,” you hurriedly said. And with a loud slam from your notebook, you quickly shut him out. In addition, you practically shoved every thing in front of you into your bag without sparing a second glance.

One strap of your back was slung over your shoulder as you hurriedly flew down the aisle. Professor Lehnsherr was midway into packing his things before you interrupted and approached him.

“Professor,” you call out. “I have a question. About the paper I handed in last week.”

“Uhuh.” He faintly furrows his eyebrows, trying to hide his already obvious bewilderment. “I forgot which assignment was that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

There were students still exiting in class. So you tried your best to make your conversation with him less suspicious. He was most likely doing the same.

“It was about the Chemistry-proposal thing.” You snapped your fingers a few times as you gathered your train of thought, but realizing it was not going effectively. “Well I just wanted to confirm it since, you know, I was hoping for any feedback from you throughout this week.”

“I’m not sure if I have read it. I’ve certainly been busy this week,” he clarifies. “Nonetheless, we can talk about it later. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll make sure to follow it up in my schedule, Ms. Y/N.”

Both of you made your way out the door once there were only a minuscule amount of students left in class. You probably had been looking at your professor with gushing stares, but you doubt the other people in the room could notice it. They were farther away from where both of you stood, much less would they be able to hear what the two of your were talking about.

“Oh thank you so much, sir!” You almost cried out and jumped in joy while reaching through the threshold. Moreover, you composed yourself before mumbling out, “I’ll see you later, Eric.”

In which you were certain no one would have heard it besides him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“I’m sure you’ll get a good grade in the exams, Y/N,” Eric leans back to his seat with a humble smile upon his face.

“Really? I doubt so, there’s a kid in your class that keeps bugging me out to a study date, or whatever you call it,” you sneer. You lick your lips as you finish taking a sip around the wine glass, setting it down and looking back at the man you were having dinner with. “It’s getting very annoying though, he surely knows how to get on my nerves.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to flirt with you, like any other college boys do.” He optimistically and maturely lays out the options. “It’s pretty normal for anyone to chase someone they are fond of, especially for young adults like you.”

It was a pretty obvious sign that he was trying to let his message reach you.

“Well, I apologize for my standards of men,” you say. “I just want to skip the whole heartbreak in college and character development. All that stuff you usually see in a typical teen romance movie.”

You sigh, looking down and saying, “I already found a man for me. Why would I stoop down for some guy who’s most likely wanting something from me, and dumping me once he got what he wanted.”

“Y/N, I don’t blame you for liking men that’s ten years older than you,” Eric assures. “But I want you to realize that you still have a lot to look forward after graduating

“And I look forward for you too!” You tried to not raise your voice, though having dinner in his house wouldn’t really catch anyones attention. “I can’t wait to finally graduate from second semester and be able to spend more time, publicly, with you.”

“Yes, I understand, honey.” He places his hand over yours as he tries to calm you down. “Like I said, I just want you to make sure that you’ve clearly thought this through.”

Eric adds, “There’s plenty of men out there. I don’t want to take away your opportunity of experiencing something new at such a young age.”

“I’m turning twenty-four! I promise you I’m thinking everything through.” Your voice was much weaker than a few seconds ago. The evident tone of strength fades even with one glance from the man in front of you. You felt yourself shrink in your seat. But you were sure he does not intend to frighten you into compliance.

“Sorry,” you pout. “Didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“I understand, and I won’t pressure you any more tonight, okay?” He tries to uplift your mood, detecting quickly the shift of the room’s atmosphere. “You deserve a good dinner tonight, like I promised, sweetie.”

His smile made you calmer. It was then that you realized why you were attracted to a man like him even if he was still your teacher.

The way he handles you in any given situation so sensibly. Though it may feels intimidating at first, he consequently tries to override the tone of the conversation which cheers you up.

With one hand, he hold yours and gently draws it towards him at the same moment he leans his head down. Eric presses a kiss against the back of your hand and you butterflies immediately fill inside your stomach. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Every doubt you had entirely disappeared now. If there were hints of you hesitating to continue seeing Eric, they were certainly long gone now.

“Let me drive you home after dinner,” he offers, like the gentleman he is.

Eric always does make sure you get home safe. However, you both agreed that he drops you off at least a block away from your house. Just in case people around your neighborhood might catch you, or worse your parents.

It was not like you were ashamed of your relationship with Eric. Cautious was the term.

You were only a few months in seeing him. Fair enough, he was your second semester professor and the both of you met before that period.

You were not only risking the wrath of your parents once they hear you’re dating an older man, let alone your Chemistry teacher. But you were also putting him at risk if ever his faculty finds out.

Eventually, the two of you pack up and end your conversation. Other than talking about college, the two of you also talk more about yourselves which has progressed you into learning more about each other’s personalities and likes.

He helps you out of his house and into the passenger seat of his car. It had been more than thrice wherein he drove you home, and the familiar scent of leather and the typical Glad air fresheners has clung onto your nose. You strap on your seatbelt on just as he was getting inside the driver’s side.

The ride was not entirely dead silent. Eric made a few more small talks before finally turning a right which was where he usually drops you off. It amazes you how instantly he remembered the way to your home, as you instructed him the first time.

“Thank you for tonight, like always, Eric.”

As always, you made your way out of his car prior to giving him a kiss. You only had to walk straight ahead, glancing at your home which had one dim light illuminating through one window.

Upon entering the house, you figured your parents were already asleep and a hint of the living room lamp was present. Taking the benefit of not having to be interrogated by anyone, you rushed upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the lights, and immediately closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. A smile was also visible after recalling your night with Eric.

As you made your way towards your bed, a piece of paper lays obvious in the middle of it. Your sheets were flattened and tidied, so you could obviously detect when something is placed on top of it. You have no memory of leaving it early in the morning before you left too.

When picking the paper up, you realized it was a piece of polaroid film. Its back was facing you, having no idea what to expect at the front.

At that point, the smile from your face turned into horror and all the color in you basically drained away.

The picture displayed you and Eric at one dinner night out from a few days ago, you still remember. It could have been anything but malicious, but the way his hand was intertwined with yours as both of you laugh away without worries. It was clear as day, the light shining perfectly at the both of you. Anyone can conclude what was happening in the picture.

You did not know this day would come. The picture was taken from Eric’s home to prevent such things like this from happening. So it puzzled you just as much at it terrified you.

This was definitely someone who had been stalking either one of you. It was not a mere instance like paparazzis who catch celebrities dating on the streets of New York.

Someone definitely have been observing the two of you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Days have passed, a week almost. Examinations are scheduled for tomorrow.

And you prayed that the picture you received would be the only thing terrorizing your dreams. But you were completely wrong.

From thereon, you started to receive more pictures, specifically one every morning and night, from your past hangouts with Eric. It were simple shots but had the power to completely jeopardize either one of you, mostly him at stake though.

It was obvious that the person behind this was definitely observing the two of you for a while. Probably even during the most earliest weeks when your relationship with him started.

Though it may seem unfair, you did not mention anything about it to Eric. It was enough the he was keeping with you, his job, and himself private – which clearly was not working out so well. You felt like it was your responsibility to handle this situation. You were so sure you did not try to publicize anything and kept it on the low.

Nevertheless, it was out there. Eric had not mentioned anything so you assumed he did not receive a picture like you did.

Currently, you were seated at the farthest row at the back of the room, somewhat near the corner. Physics was your last subject and you could not wait but finally leave.

In addition, you texted Eric that you would not be seeing him until after the exams. It was an easy excuse not to see him, saying that you wanted to focus on studying for it; however, you knew that you would just be busy thinking about the creepy stalker gallery you have been receiving.

“Hey.” Unsurprisingly, a familiar voice whispers next to you which disrupts your heavy train of thoughts. “You finished studying for tomorrow? I’m about to end my review with Chemistry later.”

“Cool.” Probably the one of the most basic replies in the universe. “I haven’t finished studying, I’m kind of dealing with a lot of things recently.”

You made sure to generalize your answer, but enough for him to sympathize and at least give you some space.

“Oh, sorry to hear about that.” Peter frowns. He takes his seat a few desks away from your left, leaving you to continue thinking. You were thankful for his gesture too.

Surprisingly enough the boy barely bothered you for the entire lecture. You were still engrossed on finding out whoever was stalking you, even so dating back to boys you evidently rejected during the first semester – who badmouthed you immediately afterwards. There were not a lot of names, so it was easy to remember who was who.

You traced back to each boy and remembered what they said after you told them you were not ready to enter a relationship – a complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

Just as you expected from any of them, rumors have spread out about you which was mostly shaming you physically or mentally. Some were milder insults than the other yet at the end of the day you did not care.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “Who was that boy at Liz’s party.”

Your eyes were sealed shut, recalling a list of names while using your thumb and middle finger to massage your temples. It was getting frustrating and mentally exhausting.

After some time, you had so much word filling in and our of your brain that you were not aware that your own name was being called. Your heart practically skipped a beat after hearing it the first time, assuming that you were being called to recite an answer. But you became content after seeing that it was just Peter, who started tapping your arm to get your attention.

“Huh?” You lightly shake your head before turning your head aside.

“Oh, class was dismissed a few minutes earlier than usual–”

“Don’t forget to answer the assignment regarding thermodynamic concepts found it the book. You’ll hand it in immediately on Wednesday.” The professor addresses the class as they were already carrying their bags and themselves out the room.

You start placing your stationeries inside yours, packing your other things up until it was only a pair of earphones and your phone left in front. Peter stood near the aisle while looking at you just as you were zipping your bag shut.

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he states out of nowhere causing you to furrow your eyebrows at him. “I forgot I still haven’t returned your Physics book I borrowed last week.”

Nodding your head and standing up, you shrug it off. “It’s fine. You can return it tomorrow.”

“Sure, but how will you do your Physics assignment?”

Oh yeah. Your professor literally reminded the class a few seconds ago.

“I think I might be able to do it overnight. How many pages is the task?”

“Eight, or nine I think.” He frowns looking very guilty at you.

“Shit,” you swore. That was a lot of pages than the usual assignments given.

“Yeah, professor said it could help add points if you somehow get a bad grade at the tests.”

“Never mind,” you tried to set his mistake aside. “I’ll try to do it within overnight tomorrow. I can ask for help from my friend tomorrow morning and–”

“Wait! I realized you can stop by my apartment to get it.”

“Oh–er, Peter, I don’t think I have time to–

“It’s just nearby the campus, I promise,” he assures and adds, “it wouldn’t be a hassle, it’s probably on your way home anyway so it won’t make a difference.”

“Uhm.” You were doubtful of him.

However, you did realize that you did not have anything to do after class. You were keeping distance with Eric for the meantime which meant that your schedule was mostly vacant after this.

“Please,” he begs, “I feel so bad for keeping it the whole week. I swear it’s like a few blocks from here.”

“Would it take more than twenty minutes?” You purse your lips, convincing yourself that you would rather force yourself to study at home than spend it at someone’s apartment.

“I only take around ten minutes to walk so,” he answers. “Unless you’re a slow walker, of course.” The tone of his voice seeming to be joking.

Again, he pleads. This kid will not fucking budge.

“Fine,” you blurt out. Though, you realized your sudden-almost lash out moment at the boy that you made sure to reiterate it but slower, “I mean, sure. I can stop by your apartment to pick up my book.”

An awaited smile and sense of agreement washes over you.

Peter then leads the way as you walked behind him, maintaining a short distance so people would not throw out any suspicious looks. Like in every college, everyone knows just how fast gossips formulate and rumors spread.

If you think about it though, it might avert anyone’s suspicion – mainly pertaining to your creepy stalker – with you and your Professor. But you were not prepared for that yet, maybe some time when you can finally think about its consequences through.

True to his word, as the both of you exited the campus, it took a short time before the boy in front of you told that you were about to enter through the entrance to the building of his apartment. You were not so sure if it was really a momentary walk or because you were so focused on thinking and keeping a distance.

At some points he did often look back in case you got lost from following him. Plus, like always, he asked you simple questions either about your day or your subjects to make small talk. In which case, you were barely answering him but definitely progressed compared to when he attempted for previous times during class.

In addition, as the two of you walked down the block, the number of faces you could only assume was in college decreased. Meaning that the glares at you eased up.

“Well, here’s my location.” A loud huff follows as he uses a key to unlock the door for the entrance to the building, “It wasn’t that far, was it?”

“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that far.” You agree as he holds the door for you and then walks right after you.

As Peter leads you upstairs onto around the fourth level, he proceeds to walk along the corridors. The array of same beige colored doors with small golden indents of unit numbers paraded along it too. Eventually he stops and inserts a key into the lock, twisting it until hearing the unlocking sound.

For a moment you hesitated to follow him. You just wanted your book and you were sure he can give it to you on a shorter span than your walk from campus to here. Was it that troublesome?

Entering his complex, you discovered how minimalistic it looked. To be fair it seemed quite small, the living room instantly greeting you through the entrance and a kitchenette at the side. But since his things were tidied up, it looked roomy.

You instinctively close the door behind you, slightly aware that it did not create a locking sound. Following Peter, you took a few more steps until you stood still at the passageway between his living room and entryway.

“Do you want a drink?” Peter asks.

“No thank you.” You were still trying to subtle. “I just want my Physics book, Peter. Please?”

He looked at you and paused for a split second. You could feel the frown behind the expressionless look. “Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he nods for a few times before turning around and proceeding to a seemingly narrow hallway. “I’ll get it in my room. Be back in a second.”

Your feet faintly paced back and forth, still where you stood a few meters between the entrance and living room. After a few more minutes, Peter emerges carrying the familiar book with one hand.

He approaches you within a few stops but stops in his tracks, leaving a distance from you. “Well uh,” he starts as his chin was tucked.

“I just want to tell you something before I hand you back your book.” He looks up at you with really pleading eyes. During other instances in university, you were definitely familiar with that look. However, this one probably ranked as one of the most downhearted ones.

You did not want to feel regretful for him. Though it definitely feels like you just kicked a puppy.

“Was is it?”

“I love you,” he blurts out as his face goes back from hiding and looking down.

It seemed awkward. You were somewhat expecting it, but you were also hoping that this day would not come – or not at least until you graduate and leave the university.

“Oh.” You honestly did not want to react.

Were you going to say sorry? How about thank you? Would it be better if you said you did not like him back? Or will the best response be that you are already taken?

“Peter, I–”

“Are you really dating Eric?” He shots up with eyes appearing almost teary.

What. The. Fuck.

“No,” you mutter. It was not much of an answer to his question. It was more on being quite horrified as your mind started jumping to conclusions.

The amount of things running around your mind right now was immeasurable.

Firstly, anyone could make two and two out of what he said, especially knowing that no one knows it even so around your circle of friends.

Secondly, you should have thought better. Your doubts with Peter should have been grater and you totally underestimated him. However, some part of you prayed that he was just an annoyingly awkward nerd who follows his friends regarding flirting tips.

Lastly, you turned around and ran.

You probably got your way with opening the door and taking two steps out. It was not long before you felt arms wrap around your waist and either side of your arms. You were then lifted and pulled behind while you tried to kick at the air as an escape. Did not work though.

Peter was surprisingly stronger than you thought. He already seemed fairly muscular at class, hiding behind those long sleeved sweaters and flannels.

Eventually the last thing you remember was the image of the door of his apartment open while you get sucked into the room further. Everything went black afterwards.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

When you felt that you were slowly restoring to consciousness, you were aware of the pounding at the back of your head and your arms.

You tried to move your hands, wanting to press against the parts of your body that were aching. But you felt incapacitated as your wriggled your wrists around and felt an unfamiliar sticky fluid enveloping around them.

“Glad you’re awake,” a voice says. “Does your head hurt?”

You tried to open your eyes, the dark lighting of the room not cooperating with your vision. A light from the window and a lamp were the only things that helped you form something out of the void.

From there you saw Peter Parker sitting closely beside you at the edge of the bed.

Hell please let this be a nightmare.

“What–” You groan, “What do you want from me.”

Your mind was building up your anger yet your body says otherwise. You felt exhausted and heavy.

Peter shushed you in a caring manner, “We’ll talk when you feel better. I’ll let you get more rest okay, sweetie?”

“Uhh.”

That was what you could remember the most. If you have awoken for other times in between your sleep, then you surely did not have an idea of it.

When you finally woke up, the level of your grogginess felt little to none already. You looked around and saw that the room was still dark and seemingly still nighttime.

As your head was twisting from side to side, you saw Peter appear from the doorway carrying a translucent cup filled with water in one hand. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

Instead of replying to him, your wrists writhe beneath the fluid that you are still not familiar of. You could not really look up to get a good view of what it was, but it was wet, sticky, and felt like super glue.

On the other hand, both your legs, ankles, and feet were free. The back of your thighs bounced against the bed as you struggled, but it would not do much since your arms were practically stuck.

“Fuck,” you grumble.

“That won’t help. You’re pretty much stuck there,” he says, Then he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, alike where you remembered him positioned from earlier, “Might as well talk to me until I let you go.”

“Okay then, when will you let me go?” Your voice was calm hoping you could talk your way out of this mess.

“If you behave for me like a good girl, okay?”

Shivers went up your spine as you cringed at his statement.

Immediately, your mood shifts from calm to furious after hearing his disturbing bargain. Then purposely rolling your eyes for him to see. “How the hell will I behave if you’re a creepy stalker! You disgust me!”

Peter hums, displaying a look wherein he seems like he was thinking. You were not sure if it was sarcastic or not, either way it annoyed the hell out of you. “Creepy stalker sounds overstated, it was more on being curious.”

You scoff as well as exclaim, “You sent me photographs of me and Eric at his house! Fucking hell, Peter.”

“Oh yeah that part.” He slyly pouts his lips to the side as he comes to realize what he had done, “I guess it was a bit creepy–” “What do you mean a bit? That was invasion of privacy!”

Despite being trapped, both your hands balled into a fist, feeling very furious at his dense answers. “I was living my own life! I kept my relationships to myself,” you cry out.

“Yes, but you weren’t completely living your life,” he whispers while gently combing his hair through the front of your hair. “You deserve much more than someone who couldn’t proudly tell that you’re his girl. Is he even a man? Do you really enjoy that kind of life, sweetie?”

“We were happy,” you weep. The evident crack on your voice was a signal that you were about to cry though you were not sure if it was because you were held hostage or because you were worried for Eric.

No one would understand your situation with him right now. Especially Peter.

“Trust me you weren’t,” he scoffs. “You deserve so much more, and I can give you that.”

“I’d rather be alone forever than be with you, asshole!” Your voice was inconsistent, clearly affected by how fast Peter’s mood also shifts quickly.

You also figured you were not looking entirely fresh while crumbling beneath him. Drops of tears and sweat were all over your face and neck, both your eyelids felt swollen, and your nose was almost stuffed.

Peter stand from the edge of the bed and advances to his desk from the side. A harsh bang echoed throughout the room as your body twitched out of shock.

“What does that dick have that I don’t?!” He grits his teeth as the curves of his jaw intensifies. A displeased look was written all over his face.

“P-please let me go.”

“I need you to answer, sweetie. We going nowhere unless you answer!” He was never going to let you go if you were not going to cooperate.

Every step he takes closer back to the bed just increases your heart beat further. He had rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to the edge of his elbows and you felt threatened looking at how firm his arms looked.

“Peter, p-please,” you hiccup.

As Peter returns to the edge of the bed, he does not hesitate anymore to keep a distance. His hands hover to either sides over your body and sets the left side of his head on your midriff, laying while also getting a good view of your vulnerable state.

He does not even look life he was struggling to make an effort to keep you down, but you could feel how heavy he was and was barely giving you a chance to move around.

“I can give you so much more, Y/N.” The way his gaze directs at you was definitely one of the creepiest things you have experienced. He had so much emotions yet completely lacked sympathy for your state of mind.

Shutting your eyes, you only cried further. You felt a hand cup one of your cheeks as its thumb wipes away the pouring tears. Like a broken record, you only pleaded more, “Please let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.” You bawled, realizing he has no plans of releasing you anytime soon despite it. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I p-promise.”

“I know that,” he says, “but you’re going to run back to Eric, probably tell him too, right?”

You did not want to answer, merely shaking your head as you resisted a cry from your lips. It was somewhat what you had planned, but now you were just scared shitless.

“You won’t tell anyone but him cause no one knows about it other than you two, right?” He corners your words.

“Eric would lose his job if someone, especially your parents find out, right?” Hell he was correct. He most likely had been stalking you for so long to find out about it.

“You love him so much, you wouldn’t want to hinde

It was terrifying that someone had been learning about you and your life for a while without your awareness.

“Please stop. What do you want... money?” you whimper.

Peter did not seem likes normal college boy; he does not think like one, too, for sure. Anyone with a right mind would not do something like what he did. No one would have the guts to do so.

“I just want you, Y/N. I want to give you what you deserve,” Peter answers as he sits up and leans his face closer to yours. His mouth leaves a small gap from your right ear as he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

“No–”

He cuts off your plea with a proposition, “If you let me, I might consider letting you free.”

“You want that, right? Want me to let you go...” His hand combs through the other side of your face, “just let me show you that I can do way better than him.”

Every ounce of your blood was trying not to give in. You were smart, you ought to find a way out of this. However, you realized that it will not be enough. You already struggled so much from the super glue around your wrists and you could not imagine how much more would it take now that Peter was on top of you.

Eventually you stopped struggling and let him be. There was no way out of this than to let him do what he pleases.

You feel his lips press against your ear first and then progresses over your cheek. His grip around your arms loosen after detecting that you stopped struggling beneath him. You could feel him smile on your skin, “That’s it, relax for me. Good girl.”

His hand reaches to undo your pants as his lips drifted on yours to force their way on making out with you. Another hand then presses under your jaw and throat. “P-Peter,” you choke, feeling lightheaded after being unable to breath properly though your mouth until the grip had loosen.

“Sorry, babe.”

He soon descends from your face to your neck and collar region. You were so sure he was leaving marks on you as you felt him suck and nibble against your skin. Like a controlling asshole he was, you expect to see bruises on your skin by tomorrow.

Despite having your hands fastened, he still moves your shirt upwards past your head. It halts and hands loosely around your arms as you emerge topless beneath the boy.

“Fucking beautiful,” Peter compliments your body under his breath.

Although he seemed to have time on his hands, he does not leave a second wasted. He also goes to haul your pants past your legs and ankles. The growing look of impatience on his face says it all.

Peter moves from your side and welcomes himself between your legs. He spreads them out to have enough space for his body and you could not feel more embarrassed than this.

You grit your teeth over each other as you felt him press fingers against your cunt. Instinctively, you clench around nothing as he continues to play with your entrance, making sure you get entirely soaked under his touch.

“You know you shouldn’t hold back. I know you’re loving it so far, your body says otherwise,” he teases before laying on his stomach and moving his head closer to your pussy.

Without a warning, he licks a strip of you making the back of your thighs quake lightly. Peter senses your reaction and continues to do so, using his tongue to play around and poke inside of you until you were slowly giving in without even realizing it.

Just as you thought you were getting used to his actions, he then inserts fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around it as he pushes it in and out.

“Oh,” you moan.

He continues, making sure he also does not leave your bud of nerves behind. The tip of his fingers and tongue alternate on playing against it, making you throw back your head out of pleasure.

“I bet he doesn’t please you like this,” he scoffs.

Eventually, at your vulnerable state, you could already feel yourself closing to an orgasm. Your toes curled as your temples throbbed, sealing your eyes shut as you accepted on giving in.

You bit onto your lower lip, trying to resist a moan. Somewhere inside you, you were still trying to fight back and not let Peter have the satisfaction he had been craving.

“You’re being so tight... Just let it out.” He coaxes and you hate how you did what he told you so.

The extensive grin on his face seemed priceless. He pulled back and you were aware that you seemed exhausted beneath him. You assumed he was done with whatever he wanted to do with you.

But when he started to take off his sweater and unbutton his pants, you realized it was far from over.

As he presents himself just as naked in front of you, he again welcomes himself between your legs. This time you get a better view of him and his muscles and abs. He gets a good view of your body too for sure as his hand reaches to start stroking his dick.

He places one hand on your thigh and pushes it farther to give him more room. Finally, he inserts in inside you and you automatically felt him throbbing between.

There was a growing heat between the both of you, and it only intensified as Peter started to thrust his hips forward and backwards. There was not even a rhythm from him as he moves harder after hearing you softly moan underneath.

The slapping sound echoes through the room that would eventually reek of sex and you felt ashamed that your body was enjoying all of this.

“Ah… ah… ahh… agh….”

“You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” He brags as one hand was reaching for your breasts while the other holds your thigh up. “Fucking slut.”

Your body and mind were tired and could only hold so much longer. It was not a surprise when your stomach started to churn your the muscles in your thighs were cramping up.

Peter did no help after seeing you starting to wear out. He tried leaning in to make out with you and expect to moan into his mouth. You did for a moment, a combination of both your drools were streaming down from the corner of your mouth.

“We’re making a mess, huh,” he mumbles. “But I know you’re already a dirty fucking girl.”

He proceeds to deprave you with statements, “Can’t believe you’re enjoying my cock better than that old man’s... Such a fucking whore.”

You twist your head aside, trying to hide the fact that you feel like your temperature were burning up. You were so sure he could feel the increasing warmth of your walls either way.

Your eyes were rolling back as you resist arching your back, which was not really a success as the amount of pleasure was overwhelming.

As you writhe beneath him, you felt a hand on your cheek. It pushes your head back onto looking at front and at Peter. “I want you t look at me when you’re going to cum, sweetie,” he orders and you could not do much anyways.

The second time you came was a whole other level. You never felt this with any person you slept with so far, rather not this fast and intense to say. “That’s it, fuck, you’re tighter than I could ever imagine.”

Peter continues until it was his time to cum. The bed continues to move along with his pace and your body was basically abused to his liking.

And even if you were not aware of it, the boy was practically thankful that his agency decided to agree to soundproofing his whole apartment – his motive being for personal reasons, which they did not question any time soon.

You were helpless, you knew that. All you had in mind now was rest. Your eyelids were heavy and your mind was drifting to slumber.

The last thing you remember was Peter moving over your body to come all around your chest like a painter with its paint brush creating a masterpiece from your chest to your core.

“I love you.”

a/n: ily pls leave comments <3

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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

Text

Flowers 4+1// ashton irwin oneshot

A/N: this is my first ever 4+1 fic so I’m kind of nervous, thank you Angie @littledrummerangie for the idea! This is also SUPER indulgent as being a birthday fic for me and a birthday fic with Ashton😅 since mine is the day before his. This has everything I love in it, flowers, hot tubs, a cabin, christmas, love… This is 4 times Ashton gives you flowers and 1 time you give him flowers

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

Enjoy!💕

*****

One

The first time they met was when Andy and Sarah invited Ashton to help her move into her new place. The movers basically set all the boxes and furniture into her house and then left her to her own devices. She called Andy and Sarah for help and if they had any reinforcements it would be greatly appreciated.

She was trying to find wine glasses when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it she had to look up at her guest. His copper brown hair fell in waves and necklaces hung perfectly down his neck, his hazel eyes were bright and friendly.

First, she noticed how good looking he is and the second thing she noticed was the mason jar filled with orange and peach flowers.

“Uh, hi can I help you?” she asks suddenly feeling very self-conscious of her ratty t-shirt and paint splotched shorts.

“I’m Ashton and I’m your honorary mover,” he smiles. “Andy called me. You must be Y/N.”

“Must be. I mean--yes, I am! And oh, right, wow. Sorry, please come in and thank you for helping,” she says, moving aside to let him in.

“Yeah, of course. These are for you,” he holds out the mason jar. “A housewarming gift.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the flowers with both hands. Their fingers brush. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?” his eyes bore into hers and she’s momentarily frazzled.

“Apart from my mom or grandpa but...um, I’ll put these in the kitchen. Andy’s in the bedroom putting the bed together if you’d like to help in there.”

She escapes into the kitchen where Sarah is wiping down the fridge.

“Who was at the door? What pretty flowers!”

“Your friend Ashton and he gave me these,” you touch one of the roses before burying your nose in the plumage. The petals tickle your nose and the scent is wonderful.

“He’s sweet like that,” Sarah smiles. “Did you find the glasses?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, setting the flowers on the counter by the sink. “They’re probably in the bathroom or something.”

“We’ll find them.”

The four of them continue working on unpacking and it isn’t until about 10 o’clock when Andy and Ashton enter the living room.

“The bed, vanity, and dressers are all assembled,” Andy announces wiping at his brow.

“We’re the poor man's Avengers,” Ashton laughs. “We put the bed in the middle of the wall and the vanity next to the window. Best lighting to do make-up.”

“That’s...perfect actually, thank you guys,” Y/N smiles, balling up the newspaper and shoving it in a large garbage bag. She just finished placing her books on the shelves, she’ll sort them later in the week.

“We were thinking of getting pizza,” Andy says.

“Pizza sounds great! Here, I’ll give you some money--”

“No, my treat,” Ashton says, “you’ve been working hard.”

After eating pizza they all went back to unpacking and Ashton made comments about the art pieces she has. He asks where she wants each one hung up.

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll put them up later,” she waves her hand at him.

“It’s my job as honorary mover,” he grins.

Midnight came upon them sooner than she would like. Andy and Sarah headed out because of Pebbles, she’s been cooped up all day so it was just Ashton and Y/N. He asked questions while unpacking to get to know her better and he was very open to her questions.

He stayed until 3 in the morning but he made sure to get her number before he left. She took a photo of the flowers on the counter before going to bed.

Two

She changed her outfit about a dozen times. Her bed was covered in discarded clothes and she still had to put on her makeup. The clock on her wall ticked reminding her that Ashton would be here in a little less than an hour.

It’s been six months since he helped her move in and in that time, they became close. He showed her all of the best coffee shops and bookstores he knew of. He introduced her to the rest of his band and they accepted her kindly.

She accompanied them on outings, parties, and Ashton always made sure to stick close with her. He knew she was shy around new people so he always made sure to include her in conversation.

One night when he was walking her back to her door after going to dinner with the band and their significant others, he was acting strange. He was unusually quiet and she’d find him staring at her across the table.

“So, I’ll see you Monday, right?” she asked, shuffling through her purse for her house key.

“How about Saturday?”

“This Saturday? I thought we were going to try that new restaurant Monday with Andy and Sarah?”

“I mean, we can do that, too but I was thinking...Saturday could just be us. You and me.”

The air changed between them and she stopped looking for her keys. She turned to face him but she couldn’t quite read his expression.

“Oh, okay. Did you want to watch that new movie on Netflix?”

“Y/N, I’m trying to ask you on a date here,” he laughed nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ask me on a...you are? Oh God, and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--”

“You could never ruin anything,” he smiled. “But, would you like to go on a date with me this Saturday?” his hazel eyes were hopeful and Y/N couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“I’d love to Ash,” she smiled.

And now here she is, half naked and indecisive on what to wear. She shouldn’t be freaking out like this, it’s Ashton. But it’s also *Ashton. Ashton who can always make her laugh and he makes her feel safe and they always have fun together. But it’s also Ashton who gives her butterflies whenever he touches her lower back and her heart race when he gives her a hug.

Her phone buzzes and it’s Ashton letting her know he’ll be there in forty-five minutes. She lets out a loud groan and goes back to her closet, maybe a new article of clothing she’s never seen will just reappear.

To her astonishment, there was a maroon dress that she wore to a wedding.

“Might as well,” she sighs and puts it on. It really doesn’t look half bad as she looks at herself in the mirror.

She rushes to put on her makeup and by the time she spritzes on her perfume, the doorbell rings. She checks that she has everything in her clutch and moves to the door.

It’s like a deja vu moment from six months ago because he’s handsome as ever and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His necklaces are perched perfectly in the V of his white button up shirt and it contrasts nicely with his skin. These flowers are full of pink and white flowers with a hint of peach thrown in there. The ivory paper crinkles when his fingers squeeze it, his eyes widen at the sight of her.

“Wow, you look...wow.”

“You’re pretty wow yourself,” she giggles then glances at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Um, yes,” he holds his hand out, the flowers bumping your chest. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she laughs, taking them from him and buries her face in the center of it. “They smell wonderful, thank you so much. I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

He follows her into the house, she doesn’t see him glance down at her ass in the dress. He’s rubbing his neck again when she looks at him getting a vase from the counter. She fills it with water and arranges the flowers.

“So, where are we going?”

They’re sitting outside the restaurant, it’s a warm breezy summer night. The rustic atmosphere feels comfortable but when she flicks her gaze at Ashton over the drink menu, he’s drinking his glass of water heartily. His other hand is tapping against the table, it’s a thing he does when he’s nervous.

“Thirsty, huh?” She tries to ease his unusual activity and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, throat’s a little dry,” he clears his throat just as the waitress comes by.

She takes their drink order and Ashton requests a pitcher of water if it’s available. Their roles are reversed, she’s the one doing most of the talking and he’s the one who’s listening. She can tell he’s still being reserved so she takes out her phone and points it at him.

“Smiiile!” She sings turning on portrait mode.

“Why?” He laughs nervously but it makes him smile so she snaps the photo.

“Because, the lighting is perfect and you look cute,” she flirts with a smile.

Ashton laughs again but it’s his real laugh, the laugh that always gets her laughing. She snaps as many photos as she can and it seems to have done the job of making him act like himself. Even though they’ve hung out nearly everyday, the evening still had the air of a first date.

They even tried each other’s food. She stabbed her chicken and noodle with her fork, blew on it, and fed it to him across the table.

“Wow, that is really good,” he hums in approval. He swirls his own noodles on his fork and feeds her slowly.

“That sauce is amazing,” she moans, loving the lemon flavor.

They share a dessert of chocolate mousse and split the strawberry. After dinner, he took her to the art museum. They're open later in the summertime. There were only a few people meandering in the open space and standing stagnant in front of pieces.

“This is why I wanted to bring you here,” he says, taking her hand easily in his own.

Her butterflies returned and he lead her all the way to the back. It was a Claude Monet exhibit and she tried to look at the paintings but Ashton was on a mission to a certain piece. He stops in front of it and she stares in amazement at the painting. It’s of Claude Monet on his boat. She gasps, staring at it and Ashton is staring at her.

It’s the painting she tried to replicate when she was younger in her art class. It’s the painting that introduced her to Monet because the style was similar and it always stuck with her. She told him she wanted to find the painting when they first met and stayed up until 3 in the morning.

“You remembered this?” she asks, stepping closer to it. She makes sure their hands are still locked together, his thumb is rubbing her skin in soothing circles.

“Your eyes always light up when you talk about things that matter to you. They’re always so bright when you talk about him...and when I give you flowers.”

“Ashton this is…” she shakes her head at a loss for words. She gazes upon the painting, loving the visibility of the palette strokes and the blending of the colors. Tears formed in her eyes. “This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she wipes the stray tear that slipped from her eye.

“Hey,” he says softly. His fingers graze her cheek tilting her face towards him.

His thumb rubs at the leftover tear, his own face inching closer to hers. She closes her eyes, exhaling when his lips brush against hers. He squeezes her hand, his lips controlled and gentle yet also hesitant. As if he’s testing the waters.

They unabashedly makeout in front of the paintings and in her mind she’s thinking of what they look like to an outsider. Still life man and woman lost in each other.

Three

The holidays arrived faster than she wanted them to. She still had a ton of shopping to do for her family but at least her flight is scheduled. Ashton is accompanying her on the trip and she’s so excited for him to meet her family.

“Make sure you aren’t doing anything the weekend before the holiday,” he tells her unravelling lights from her box of Christmas decorations.

“How come?” she asks searching through the tv for the claymation movies she loves to watch.

“That’s when I’m going to give you my present.”

“You need a whole weekend to do that?” she laughs.

“I won’t say anything more than that,” he smirks at her.

“I can help with that--”

“I got it sorted,” he waves her off, “you enjoy your movies.”

“Have I told you you’re the most amazing boyfriend?” she wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton shifts the lights into one hand so he can hold her against him with his free hand.

“You’ve never told me that,” he grins and kisses her.

“I’m sure I have,” she mumbles between kisses. Her hands slip under his shirt, thumbs grazing over his warm skin causing Ashton to grunt at the contact.

His hand rubs up her back and into her hair, he breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. “Let me finish putting these lights up and we can get back to this, baby.”

“We could get to this faster if you let me help,” she stresses, pinching his skin. “You never let me do anything.”

“You do plenty, baby,” he smiles, kissing her forehead.

She sighs and retreats to the couch curling up to watch the movie and Ashton wrap and weave the lights around her tree. Two and a half movies later he was finally finished and turned the lights on. The white light reflected on her wooden floor and she beamed at his job well done.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!” she throws her arms around his neck in a big hug.

“My pleasure,” he chuckles and kisses her temple. She starts to give small kisses to his neck, featherlight and ticklish on his skin. “Get outta here, you know I’m ticklish.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teases continuing her small attack of affection.

Ashton shifts her in his arms making his way to her couch and drops onto the cushions. She situated herself so she’s straddling his waist. His hands smooth over the curve of her ass while his lips suction kisses along her jaw and to her neck. She shivers at the contact, tugging at his curls when he sucks a mark.

“This is what I’m gonna do about it,” he says gruffly and rocks her against his hips.

“Okay,” she sighs, enjoying his mouth on her neck and the bulge in his pants rubbing against her core with each rock he makes her do. She moans when his hands move to her thighs and gives her a squeeze.

Needing more of him, she drags his head away from her neck so she can feel his lips on her own again. She rolls her hips against his without his help and his hands slip under her shirt, moaning when he feels she’s not wearing a bra.

“Damn, baby,” he growls cupping her breasts together. He tweaks her nipples and she squeaks in his mouth. “You like that?”

“Feels good,” she nods nipping at his lip. His phone rings and buzzes in his pocket, the vibration adds another element to her arousal.

“Leave it, they can leave a message,” he pants, sucking another kiss from her.

His phone stops ringing only for hers to start on the coffee table behind them. She breaks the kiss and turns around trying to see the caller ID.

“Leave it,” he repeats, squeezing her breasts again.

“It could be an emergency,” she reaches for her phone to see it’s Sarah calling. “Hello?” She picks it up staring at Ashton and he smirks, lifting her shirt up. He takes her nipple between his lips and she scowls at him. “Oh, that was tonight? Um, yeah he’s with me. We’ll be right over. Okay, yeah…” she sighs when his teeth tug on her nipple. “See you soon.”

She tosses the phone to the couch and tosses her head back relishing in his mouth on her sensitive bud for a moment longer. Their physical relationship is progressing slowly, they’ve almost had sex three times (now four if Sarah hadn’t called) but she likes the pace they’re going at.

“We need to go to Andy and Sarah’s,” she strokes his cheek curling his hair around his ear.

“Why? I’d rather stay here,” he shifts his mouth to her other breast, his tongue rolling over her nipple salaciously.

“Mm, me too but it’s their Christmas party tonight. And we’re late by two hours,” she snickers, fingers still tangled in his hair. She has goosebumps from what his mouth is doing to her.

“I’m sick, can’t go.”

“Ashton!” she laughs pushing his head away from her chest. “We won’t see them until after the holiday. Come on, let’s go.”

She crawls off him, turns her tv off and changes her top, and puts on a bra. When she comes back Ashton is still sitting on the couch. She leans over the back of it next to his head.

“Do I have to drag you off this couch?” she murmurs in his ear.

“I need a few moments,” he huffs, shifting his legs.

“Oh,” she giggles, seeing exactly why because he still has a prominent bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry. Can I help?” she kisses down his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

“You helped make this problem,” he laughs, turning his head to kiss her lips.

The Christmas party was a hit and it’s the weekend before Christmas. Y/N was awakened by Ashton petting her hair and kissing her cheek, he used the spare key she gave him for emergencies.

“What a way to wake up,” she smiles, pulling him on top of her. His strong arms are caged around her head and his body weight makes her feel protected.

“Your coffee is all ready, now you just have to pack and we’ll be on our way.”

“No breakfast in bed?” She traces his eyebrows.

“I can make you breakfast in bed tomorrow*,” he nuzzles his nose against hers. “There’s a present by your coffee mug if that will help you get your cute ass outta bed.”

Then his weight is off her and she’s left scrambling out of bed to follow him into the kitchen where her coffee is already in her to-go mug with a card and a bouquet of red roses and cranberries inside to make it more of a holiday special. He’s standing next to the small gifts with a grin on his face.

“I love these, they’re so pretty,” she gushes, lifting the bouquet to her nose. She loves the sweet smell of a rose.

“You’re so pretty when I give you flowers,” he comments, lifting up the red envelope.

She holds the flowers against her chest and unfolds the envelope. Inside is a white card with writing formed in the shape of a Christmas tree, a star placed on top. The words read:

“TO A

KIND

STRONG

BRILLIANT

SO BEAUTIFUL

AND TRULY AMAZING

GIRLFRIEND”

Ashton wrote his own inscription inside in his nice loopy script:

‘The past year with you has been one of the best of my life. Our friendship was the perfect foundation for a relationship and I can’t imagine what my world would be like now if you weren’t in it. So this weekend, it will just be me and you in our own little cabin, no interruptions. xx Ash’

“A cabin?”

After the 2 hour and 40 minute flight to Seattle, she and Ashton arrived at the cabin where a dusting of snow covered the ground and a wreath was on the door. Y/N was floored at how beautiful it was and Ashton took her hand leading her up the wooden steps. He took a key out and unlocked the door.

It smelled like cinnamon and Ashton with cozy couches and armchairs, a large rug in front of a stone fireplace and a massive kitchen with a grill attached to a chimney. A Christmas tree was set up with presents scattered underneath and there was a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table.

“Ash…” she begins and then can’t find more words.

“There’s more, c’mon,” he smiles, leading her up the winding staircase and into a loft area where a futon was and empty bookshelves. There were a few guitars on stands placed in the corner and some incense sticks. “What do you think?” He leans against the railing and Y/N ventures into the room.

“I think it’s wonderful, but there aren’t any books. Is this someone’s cabin and you’re renting it? I can chip in--”

“No, no. It is someone’s cabin...mine.”

She whips around from looking out the half circle window overlooking the backyard where she saw another grill and some chairs.

“This place is yours?”

“Yep. I come here when I need to get away and just let my creative ideas flow. You can fill the bookshelves if you’d like.”

“Ash this is…” she shakes her head then launches herself into his arms for a hug. “This is incredible. And we’re here the whole weekend? Just us?”

“Just us, angel,” he nods, rubbing at her back. “There’s also a hot tub.”

His voice changed at the mention of the hot tub because she didn’t bring a suit.

***

Ashton’s plan for Friday evening was to unpack and go into town for a nice meal. After dinner, they changed into their sleep clothes and snuggled on the couch with hot chocolate watching the first Home Alone movie because they’re her favorite movies. Her mind was on that hot tub and her stomach twisted with excited nerves at the thought of using it. She wanted to use it now but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth each time she tried to bring it up.

She was also thinking of how this would be their first time sleeping together. Ashton never stayed the night because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. She found it sweet but it also increased her infatuation for him even more.

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, he had her lean on him while they walked to the bedroom. The bed was huge with a large comforter and even fluffier looking pillows. It looked heavenly and she slipped inside willingly. She rolled over and became awake again at the look on Ashton’s face.

She tossed over the blanket on his side of the bed and patted the space below the pillow inviting him in. He crawled in carefully and shut the lights off and they were in darkness. Ashton remained sitting against the headboard and Y/N reached out for him in the dark. His forearm was warm and soft.

“Are you going to sleep like that the whole night?” she whispers, giving his arm a squeeze.

“No,” he whispers back, sliding further down the bed. Her hand now rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating. He turns on his side clutching her hand in his. “Is it weird I’m nervous? I feel like I’m fifteen.”

“You first slept with a girl at fifteen?” she laughs.

“No, I meant--being around girls at that age made me nervous,” he chuckles.

“I’m nervous, too. But in a good way. Just warning you, I’m a kicker so I apologize in advance.”

“Why are we still whispering, we’re the only ones here,” he says, raising his voice to a normal level. That only makes her giggle more.

“I don’t know, it fits the mood with you regressing back to fifteen years old. Our parents could walk in at any moment.” She scoots closer to him, so close that she can feel his breath fan on her face.

“I hope they don’t,” he murmurs, inching closer in the dark until he finds her lips. It’s a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that took her breath away slowly and made her heart smile.

She keeps him close with her hand pressed to his cheek. They kiss and talk in hushed tones until she falls asleep and Ashton tickles up her back until sleep finally finds him, too.

Saturday morning did indeed include breakfast in bed. Ashton made pancakes, bacon, coffee and a small bowl of fruit. His itinerary for the day consisted of lounging around the cabin watching holiday movies and then he was going to make her a steak dinner. She insisted on helping him in the kitchen amidst his protests.

“I’m not a good cook but I’m a very good listener. I’m your sous chef.”

“What does ‘sous chef 'even mean?” he asks getting the ingredients out of the fridge.

“It means ‘under.’”

“Ah, so you’re under me, huh?” he winks.

“Let me help you cook and I just might be,” she challenged with a smile. Ashton shakes his head, a slight blush rising on his cheeks.

She followed his instructions with the garlic and mashed potatoes. The dinner was exquisite paired with a delicious white wine. They each had a full glass, their bellies full and face warm from the wine, they were extra giggly and extra flirty.

“How about that hot tub?” he asks, circling the rim of the wine glass with his finger.

“Did you pack a suit?” She raises her eyebrows.

“Nope.”

“I didn’t pack a suit either,” she points to her chest.

“Must have slipped my mind,” he gulps the last swallow of his wine, eyes on her.

“What a shame.”

He sets his glass on the table and takes her hands in his, his eyes looking almost apologetic. “You can wear a t-shirt and shorts. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He kisses both of her hands.

“Go get the water ready.”

Twenty minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Ashton is already in the water. His arms are resting on the sides of the tub, his face even redder from the steam, his eyes hold hers steadily.

The confidence she had in the bathroom is gone. She wanted to come out here and just get in the water completely naked, but now she’s nervous because what if she was reading the signs wrong? What if he doesn’t really want to have sex with her?

“Um, can you close your eyes while I get in?” she asks.

“‘Course,” he closes his eyes.

She takes a deep breath dropping the towel. The air kisses her skin and she climbs up the steps carefully. The water is hot as she descends into the tub, she bends down so only her head is exposed above the water. Ashton remains still and she inches closer to him until their knees touch.

“Hi there,” he smiles softly.

“Hi.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

First she nods then realizes he can’t see her so she clears her throat. “Yes.”

He opens his eyes slowly, and they look so pretty in the nighttime sky. He’s looking at her like he’s staring into the full face of the moon, his eyes are full of wonder and adoration and her confidence starts to rise within her.

The longer he looks at her, the more bold she becomes and she rises up from the water. Her breasts are completely exposed. Ashton licks his lips, his eyes lowering over her wet chest. She doesn’t want to break the spell that’s cast between them so she moves towards him slowly, her hands rest on his shoulders. His arms remain on the sides of the tub.

“Ashton.”

“Yeah?”

“Touch me.”

In a flash, his lips are on hers and she’s pressed to his chest. His large hands cover her back, one dips over her ass and she gasps when she feels his hard-on against her thigh. He lifts her effortlessly in the water so she’s straddling him.

Instinctively, she rubs herself against him groaning at how he rubs against her most sensitive area perfectly.

“Need you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Bed,” he gasps.

They exit the tub excitedly, drying off as quickly as they can and she presses herself against him in front of the bed. Their bodies are warm from the tub and he lifts her in his arms again. She loves feeling his muscles wrapped taut around her, he knees onto the bed and stays there. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they remain kissing.

“Do you have something?” she asks, pulling away to catch her breath. She twists his chest hair in her fingers.

“Um, yeah. Shit, hang on,” he sighs, slipping her back onto the bed. She watches him appreciatively as he skimpers to the kitchen pulling his coat off the hook.

“You have a really nice butt,” she compliments when he returns with a condom in hand.

“Thanks, babe,” he laughs then stops at the foot of the bed staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

She smiles and pulls him on the bed with her again, connecting their lips. He rips open the condom and rolls it on his length. He kneels on the bed again and she’s quick to climb on top, moaning at his shaft rubbing between her folds.

“Such a pretty moan,” he praises, grasping his cock in his hand. He teases her hole with his tip, nudging it inside a few times. Her lower body meets his in a desperate way, small gasps coming from her each inch he goes in deeper.

“Please, Ash...want all of you,” she knocks her forehead against his.

He takes a deep breath and pushes all the way in, his eyes watching her as her mouth opens and her eyes close at being filled. Their bodies tremble together and they remain still, experiencing being connected for the first time.

“Good?” he asks, rubbing her nose affectionately.

“Mhm,” she nods and starts to roll her hips against him. “Ohhh…” she lets out a shuddering breath.

He follows her rhythm easily, arms wrapped around her, enjoying the way she rides on top of him. He kneads her ass as she moves, her breath picking up and when he can’t take it anymore, he rises on his knees, her legs fall on either side of him and she gasps.

He rests her on her back gently, resting his chest against hers so that they’re still touching and rocks his hips in even thrusts. He slips his tongue in her mouth just as her legs wrap around his waist. She moans when he picks up the pace, her lower half meeting his thrusts perfectly.

“Are you close baby?” he pants feeling her walls start to flutter around him. “So good for me...so perfect...taking me so well.”

“Don’t stop,” she moans tilting her head back. Ashton pounds into her faster, each time he thrusts in she clenches around him a bit more tightly.

“Fuck…” he hisses when she clenches and stays that way. Her moans are loud in his ear and he always wants to be the one that makes her sound like that. He can’t hold his climax off with her sounding like that and he’s coming with her. “I love you,” he groans loudly in her neck.

When they recollect their breathing she holds his face in her hands.

“What did you say?” she gasps out, eyes wide with lust and surprise.

“I love you,” he breathes, stroking her temple with his thumb. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted to tell you that this weekend, too. It’s hard for me to say out loud and with just us--”

She kisses him fiercely.

“I love you, too.”

Four

When she went to work there was a flower arrangement at her desk with a note from Ashton wishing her a great last day before her vacation for her birthday and his birthday. Hers was the day before his and everyone wanted them to do a joint party when they found that out.

“No, that’s weird,” she scrunched her nose at the suggestion.

“Yeah, we aren’t siblings. That’s gross,” he agreed.

She took the week off for their birthdays so they could maybe go to the cabin or even rent a house on the beach. She loved her birthday but whenever she made plans, they always fell through or people never showed up.

She texted him that the flowers were beautiful and she couldn’t wait to spend the day with him the next day. When she got home, he was already there wearing an all black outfit with his shirt open. He knows how much she likes seeing his chest.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she holds up the vase of pink peonies showcasing them. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Kiss me first,” he puckers his lips at her.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggles and steps on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. They always kiss each other hello.

“Now, go get changed. We’ve got plans,” he grins.

“What kind of plans?”

“Look on your bed and see,” he nods to her room down the hall. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.”

She shakes her head and does what he says. On her bed is a dress she always ogled when they were at the mall, Ashton clearly bought it for her. He spoils her too much. Next to the dress is a black satin blindfold. She narrows her eyes at the blindfold but quickly changes into the dress.

“What is this for?” she asks, stepping out into the living room with the blindfold in her hands.

“For your eyes. Turn around.”

“Are we roleplaying?” she asks, turning her back to him.

“No,” he laughs, placing the fabric over her eyes.

He helps her walk to his car and she’s asking him so many questions. He refuses to answer them and laughs at her outlandish predictions of taking her away to a private island.

His hand is firm in hers when they’re walking to wherever they’re going. She stumbles a little because she doesn’t know the terrain but it feels like pavement under her feet.

“Are we there yet?” she asks.

“Almost. Okay, there’s a few steps. Up, up, up, up, and last one. Good. Okay, I’m going to take it off you now.”

She feels him move behind her. He unties the blindfold slowly and it drops from her eyes. She blinks slowly to get used to the light and is met with all of their friends and family before her. There’s flower arches behind them and they’re all wearing flower crowns on their heads.

“SURPRISE!” They shout and she gasps when they start to sing Happy Birthday.

Sarah wheels in a cake with flowers sprawled over it and her name in the middle. Y/N grasps Ashton’s hand in her own, tears forming in her eyes. His other arm wraps around her waist, his chin rests on her shoulder as he sings softly in her ear.

“...dear Y/N...Happy Birthday to you…”

She wipes at her eyes overcome with emotion from the surprise and that Ashton went through all this trouble.

“Make a wish, angel,” he murmurs in her ear.

She closes her eyes, thinks of a wish, and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers and she twists around to give Ashton a big kiss. There’s even more cheers for that and then she’s whisked away for hellos and hugs. Flowers are hanging from the ceiling like vines and she’s never been surrounded by so many flowers.

“Were you surprised?” Sarah asks as a waiter starts to cut the cake.

“Totally surprised. But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she gives Ashton a side eye.

“You told me you wanted to spend it with me, so your party with everyone else is today,” he smiles.

“And all these flowers? I love it all so much, thank you.”

“Your eyes will have that shine all night,” he grins, kissing her nose.

One

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Ashton laughs behind her as they trek through the woods by the cabin.

After her surprise party, on her actual birthday they spent the first half watching movies and the second swimming at the beach. They had a late flight to go to the cabin. Upon arrival, Ashton spent the last hour of her birthday pleasuring her with his mouth and fingers. When the clock struck midnight, she flipped him over with a smirk.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she whispered and slid down his body so she could please him.

She loves hearing his moans just as much as he loves hearing hers. She loves how one hand is fisted in her hair and the other rests behind his head watching her go down on him.

“Yes, I know where I’m going. Come on birthday boy.” She ducks under a branch then sees the clearing ahead.

“I’m twenty-seven, I’m not a boy,” he grunts.

“Sorry, old man,” she teases and he smacks her ass playfully.

When they come into the clearing, there’s a red and white checkered blanket in the grass with a large basket in the center. Wildflowers surround it in purples, yellows, oranges and a few reds. It’s a magical place.

“Did you do all this?” he asks seeing the set up.

“I did. Come on, there’s more.”

They kick off their shoes and sit on the blanket. She opens the basket taking out his favorite foods and a wrapped gift.

“I told you, you don’t have to get me anything,” he sighs while taking the gift. “You’re more than enough.”

“I know, but it’s part of my love language. And it’s homemade anyway,” she shrugs. “Open it up.”

He unwraps the corners before tearing the paper all the way off. He stares at it in his hands for a long time. She made him a shadow box frame with a picture of them when they were at the beach during sunset. It was their favorite picture and surrounding it were dried flowers.

“Do you know what these are?” she asks, pointing to the flowers.

“Flowers?” he chuckles touching the glass.

“This one is from the first flowers you brought me when you helped me move in, these are from our first date, this is from Christmas and the small cranberry. These are from work and my birthday, and these are from Valentine’s Day. These are all the flowers you’ve given me,” she smiles and he looks at her stunned.

“You kept them all?”

“You’re the only one who ever bought me flowers and I loved them all so now you have them, too.”

“This is incredible, I love it. Thank you,” he reaches over to give her a kiss.

“Wait, there’s more,” she grins and reaches into the basket again. She pulls out live flowers arranged in a pretty bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Baby,” he stressed in astonishment and set the picture frame next to him.

He pushes her back on the blanket kissing her with all he’s got. The flowers get crushed and some stick in her hair but they’re surrounded by love and the sweet smell of flowers and kiss with passion.

“Happy Birthday my love,” she gazes up at him and sticks a flower behind his ear.

Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr-blog1 @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection

#ashton irwin oneshot #ashton smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fluff #ashton fluff #ashton oneshot #ashton 5sos writing #5sos writing

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booksarelife-stuff · 3 years

Text

Godric’s Hollow’s 286th Annual Lawn Competition

My entry for the August Jily Challenge! @jilychallenge

Prompt: my mother hired you to mow the lawn but can you put your shirt back on its distracting me, and omg stOP grinning at me like that I’m swooning (I did not follow this at all)

Between adjusting to her new town and the hot rude neighbor, Lily is determined to prove herself in Godric’s Hollow by winning their annual lawn competition. Featuring both shirtless Lily and James.

My partner was the amazing @joyseuphoria, whose creativity and ideas really helped me write this fic! She came up with so many fun ideas and was a great partner!

Word Count: 5,075

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

When Lily opened the door to her small cottage to the outside, she took in the fresh air.

Godric’s Hollow was so different from her and Marlene’s old apartment back in London. She could open her door and find a bright blue sky and fresh air instead of the stale smell that the hallway had reeked of. It was a nice and welcomed change.

She pulled the door behind her, taking a second to lock the door. Just as she turned to walk down her small concrete path to the sidewalk, she heard a sudden exclamation.

She whipped her head around just as the words “Dibs!” left the tall man standing on his own walkway right by some overgrown bushes.

He was looking right at her. There was no mistaking what or who was talking about. His eyes widened dramatically as Lily met his eyes. The man’s friend in front of him doubled over with laughter.

“Did you just call ‘dibs’ on me?” she asked, anger coloring her voice.

“No…” The man said, his tone culpable. His friend shook his head, still holding back laughs. “Well okay, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking!”

Lily didn’t want to hear whatever half-assed explanation the man was going to stammer out to her. She just rolled her eyes and continued on her way to the sidewalk, not paying attention to whatever the man was saying to her.

As Lily stomped her way to her first day at her new job, she hoped she would lose the bad attitude and that man was not her neighbor.

But of course, Lily’s hope meant nothing.

That very night, there was a knock on her door shortly after she just got back from work. Lily groaned slightly, pulling herself off her couch and navigated through the maze of boxes she still hadn’t unpacked.

She stubbed her toe on her entryway table and was holding back curses as she opened the door to see four men standing on her stoop. One of which was the man from the morning.

“Hello,” the shortest man said, smiling. He was pale blonde and seemed to have not lost the baby fat on his face even though he had to be at least Lily’s age. “We’re your neighbors and we wanted to introduce ourselves after the little mishap this morning.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot up.

“And we want to know what to call you besides Dibs,” the man with shoulder-length wavy black hair said. He had a smirk on his lips that Lily knew just meant trouble. The dibs man, who was trying to hide in the back besides being one the tallest, smacked him lightly on the head.

“What Sirius meant to say is that we want to welcome you to the neighborhood. I’m Remus,” the tallest of the group with a light white scar across his face. “This is Sirius. Peter’s over to the right. And the one who called dibs is James.”

James groaned. “You guys said you weren’t going to do this to me!”

“And you trusted us?” the blonde, Peter said, innocently.

“The last time that I do,” James said, glaring at Peter. Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus’s smile didn’t waver.

“Are you guys just going to bicker on my doorstep?” Lily asked, leaning in the door jam, her arms crossed. Three pairs of eyes flickered back to her, James looking at the ground.

“No, sorry. We really are here to make introductions,” Peter said, smiling.

Lily assessed the men for a second. Her eyes stopped for a moment on James. She took in the large square frames and his curly hair. She moved on when she realized that she had spent a moment too long on him.

She took a deep breath and made her millionth introduction for the day.

“I’m Lily,” she said.

“Well, it was nice to meet you. If you ever need anything, just call ‘Dibs’ really loudly and James will come running,” Sirius said, his smile seemingly sincere.

“Man, fuck you guys. I’m getting new flatmates!” James said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

The ribbing on their mate brought a smile to her face, but the man was far from forgiven.

~~~

Lily wondered if her own small town had oddities like Godric’s Hollow. From the people to some of the town events, there seemed to be something that broke her brain a little bit.

Like Bathilda, the sweet old woman who came into the library where Lily worked every day.

Bathilda would come in, walking faster than Lily did, but with a walker, to where the new movies were placed. Ever since Bathilda found out Lily wasn’t from Godric’s Hollow, Bathilda would tell Lily all the town history she knew. From claiming there was magic or a coven of witches here to what the last mayor did to get impeached, Bathilda told Lily all of it.

Like a true customer service worker, Lily just smiled and nodded. She enjoyed Bathilda’s stories but she didn’t really believe them.

“Ah, it’s summer!” Bathilda said, giving Lily a bright smile, a stack of movies balancing on her walker as she approached the circulation desk. “The lawn competition should be starting soon.”

“Lawn competition?” Lily asked, reaching forward and grabbing the movies when they were in reach.

“Aye,” Bathilda said, her white hair that was in a bun moving as she nodded her head. “It started right after they burned all the witches here. To bring back nature to the area.”

Lily just nodded, not knowing what else to say to Bathilda.

“You best be planning for it. Some folks here take it really seriously,” Bathilda warned.

Based on everything Lily knew about the population here, a lawn competition is exactly something the people would take seriously.

Lily didn’t think much of the lawn competition until she got home and saw a colorful flyer on her doorstep with her newspaper.

Godric’s Hollow’s 286th Annual Lawn Competition- Bringing native plants and beauty back to the Hollow.

Lily frowned as she inspected the poster. She needed to pay closer attention to Bathilda’s stories.

She heard the jingle of keys coming from the boy’s house and she looked to see if it was Remus.

Unfortunately, it was James leaving. He had his running clothes on, shorts, and a fitted t-shirt. He had a sweatband holding back his bangs.

She had come to like her neighbors in the month of her being in Godric’s Hollow. She was particularly fond of Remus, but being fond of him meant that a fondness had grown for the others as well, even with their stupid nicknames for each other.

Lily was even fond of James too. Just a little bit. The dibs incident wasn’t forgotten and though he apologized, he never fully explained what it was really about.

He was better with his friends, in Lily’s eyes. With his friends, he was goofy and outgoing. He could make the whole group laugh to tears. But whenever he and Lily interacted alone, it was painfully awkward and he almost always managed to insult Lily in some way.

She sighed and called out anyway just as James was putting his headphones on.

“Hey, James!” she yelled. James jumped and turned, pulling a bud out.

“Hello, Lily,” he said, politely. “Need something?”

She waved the flyer and James' eyes followed it, trying to see what it was. Even with his glasses, he was still blind as a bat.

“What’s this all about?”

“The lawn competition?” he asked, walking across his small yard to the waist-high fence that separated their land.

“So it’s a real thing?” she asked, frowning. James nodded as he leaned against the fence.

“The old tale here is that it started after the last witches were burned,” James said. Lily blinked at him in disbelief, but James looked as neutral as ever, so she decided to just move on.

“What do you do for it? Water your grass or something?” Lily asked. James let out a breath of air like a silent laugh.

“No. It’s all about bringing plants native to the area back. And in the last decade or so, it’s kinda turned into a competition of who can do the most ridiculous things.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “Ridiculous things like what?”

James looked amused, his hazel eyes sparkling. “I think the winner last year made some constellations out of corncockles.”

This town was crazy. Grade A, certified crazy.

“It’s optional though. You don’t have to participate,” James continued. “People here spend years planting to just win one year. You’ll have some stiff competition.”

Lily felt the flare of anger at his words. “So you don’t think I can win?” she asked, crossing her arms and crushing the flyer. Lily knew she was being a bit competitive, but everything to do with James set her on edge.

James seemed to have picked up on Lily’s temper flaring. He stopped leaning the fence and straightened up.

“I didn’t say that. I just said some people spend years planning to win,” James reiterated.

Lily narrowed her eyes.

“Well, I’m going to win,” Lily said. James huffed.

“Good luck with that,” James said, turning away and popping a headphone into his ear.

Lily let out a noise. “I’d like to see you win with those overgrown hedges!”

James turned around and smiled brightly. “Those are for the competition!”

Lily stared at his back as he started off in a jog down the street. Once he was out of view, she took a survey of her yard.

There wasn’t much. Just grass and a small tree. She looked back to the boy’s yard and it did look like it had a lot more potential than Lily’s. Greener grass, some shrubbery, and window boxes that have yet to be filled.

Lily headed up to her front door, determined to spend the night researching plants and grass. And why witches getting accused and burned would start a lawn competition.

~~~

There was a plant nursery in Godric’s Hollow. There was no website, no place for her to browse the catalog before making any purchases. Just a Facebook page that got updated once a month with grainy pictures.

It was better than Lily expected when she finally dragged herself there after work. There were a few people browsing, one man had a large cart filled with pallets of various plants. Like a lot. Lily wondered if he was the corncockle constellations guy.

Google only took Lily so far with her research, so she looked in the gardening section at the library and had found out that someone had written a book about native plants, specific to the region; The Southern England Guide to Native Plants and Shrubs by Euphemia Potter. She had that open in her hand as she walked around the nursery.

She did a quick walk around, trying to identify what plants were in the book. Most of them she could find, but based on the care instructions, her yard wouldn’t be good for them.

She paused in front of a plant labeled “Pitcher Plant”. It looked weird, but she supposed it would do. She was flipping through the book, trying to find out what the care instructions were when she felt someone beside her.

“Don’t use that plant,” James said, making Lily jump. She glared at him as she rightened herself.

“And why is that?” she asked.

“It’ll discount you from the competition,” he said, touching one of the stems. “It’s an invasive species.”

Lily tore her eyes away from James, back to the plant.

“This plant also eats insects,” he pointed out. “Bad for the bees.”

“Oh,” Lily breathed. “Yeah, I don’t want that.”

She closed the book and sighed, and looked back at James to see him staring at the book in her hands.

“Nice book,” he said with a small smile. She looked back down to it and made the connection.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Euphemia, would you?” she asked, her eyes trailing the Potter after Euphemia on the book cover.

“I knew her very well,” James said, his eyes turning soft for a quick second. “I think there’s a section in there, around page 203. Most of those plants work with our yard type.”

Despite the sincerity in his voice, her eyes narrowed. She took in his lanky form and his hair that was getting frizzier by the second thanks to the humidity.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, crossing her arms. James laughed and ran a hand through his hair, making some curls stick straight up.

“I just don’t want you to start an invasive plant plague here,” he said, smirking. “It would ruin my lawn too.”

“I wasn’t going to use it if it wasn't in the book!” she pointed out. James gave her a look and Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m not some saboteur!”

“Yeah, I didn’t peg for the type,” he said, frowning. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“Your nice is rather pointed and mean if you haven’t noticed.”

James just let out a laugh. “Only to you, Evans.”

~~~

The sun was hot and beating down on Lily’s shoulders as she was on her knees, squinting at a piece of paper that was just getting dirty as she tried to dig the appropriate depth for the honeysuckle bushes she bought.

She still had no idea what she was doing with her lawn, but she figured she could just add in some plants to spaces anyway to liven up her yard.

It was kind of relaxing, she had come to realize. All the research aside; she was able to just dig and place a pretty thing down in her yard. Tomorrow she could look out the window and admire her work.

And it was something to preoccupy her time. Normally, her weekends had been full of just sitting on the couch, reading, or watching something on the television. Boredom would creep in usually, or the overwhelming feeling of missing her friends.

But so far, gardening had kept her preoccupied. She didn’t feel that same loneliness creep in as she neared the two-hour mark of her being out there.

She also talked to Remus a bit, telling him about the newest book she read. She shared a wave with Sirius as he hopped onto his obnoxiously loud motorbike.

It wasn’t until her fourth honeysuckle was in the ground, that she looked up at the sound of humming and instantly regretted that decision.

There was James, headphones in his ears and humming away. He had an assortment of his gardening tools with him and tons of flowers all spread out in plastic containers along their walkway.

But what made Lily regret her life was the fact that he was shirtless.

It wasn’t a secret that James was the most attractive out of the bunch at his house, though Sirius did give him a run for his money. With his curly hair, infectious smile, and his ability to make everyone laugh. You could look over his lanky limbs and knobby knees. Marlene, after she had come to visit one weekend, had even made Lily admit that if it wasn’t for the whole “dibs” business, she would have probably fancied him.

It was true, but it was rude of Marlene to point out.

He wasn’t buff or had any defined abs by any stretch, but Lily thought he was still well sculpted. His arms looked nice too, as she watched him unspool the garden hose.

She tore her eyes away and tried to focus on her honeysuckle.

Lily stole a few more glances but overall was dedicated to her honeysuckle plant.

Just as she patted the last of her dirt down around the roots, she suddenly felt the blast of cold water rush down her head.

She let out a yelp and quickly raised to her feet as the blast continued to drown her newly planted honeysuckles. In the field of her vision, she saw James scrambling with the other end, trying to pull it towards him and out of where Lily was in the line of fire.

It sprayed her one more time before James finally got it to stop. He ran over, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Lily, I’m so sorry. I forgot the handle is stuck on the nozzle and I didn’t know you were over there,” he said.

Lily sighed deeply as she pulled her t-shirt that was sticking to her skin away from her body, the fabric heavy.

“It’s fine,” Lily said in a defeated tone. “Why was your hose over here anyway?”

“I was making sure there were no tangles before I watered the hedges,” James said.

Lily barely registered his words and she pulled her shirt off, not wanting to deal with the heaviness on her while she tried to garden. She threw her wet shirt on the ground next to her, leaving her only in her black sports bra. She looked up, running both hands through her shoulder-length hair to stop it from sticking to her face.

James was rooted to his spot on the other side of the fence. His gaze locked onto her face. It was only then that Lily realized she had just casually thrown her shirt off in front of him.

“It was an accident,” she said. “You didn’t point the hose at me with intention, unlike the dibs. At least you watered my honeysuckles for me.”

James let out a laugh that could be mistaken for a sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m still sorry. For this and the dibs incident.”

She laughed. “I think you’re going to have to apologize for that as long as we’re neighbors.”

He smiled, amused, and nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m never living that down. Doesn’t matter that it wasn’t actually what I was doing.”

Lily tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What were you actually doing?”

“The truth is only slightly less good,” he admitted, his smile falling a bit. “I—Well, no we—No, I. I noticed you when you were moving in and I did make a comment—” Lily’s eyebrows raised. “—A respectful comment!”

“What’s a respectful comment?” she interrupted.

“I said ‘I think our new neighbor is beautiful’,” James said, a hand coming to the back of his neck. “That’s respectful, right?”

Lily’s heart decided to skip a beat and she felt a blush start to rise on her cheeks. She played it off with an eye roll.

“Anyway, we happened to be leaving at the same time and Sirius turned to me and told me to make a move ‘before someone else did’, were his exact words…” James said, making a face. “And then I said ‘What do you want me to do? Point at her and call ‘Dibs’?’”

Lily started laughing. “So all I heard was ‘dibs’.”

“Yeah… I probably shouldn’t have yelled it for emphasis,” he said.

She shook her head. Her opinion of him changed slightly, but not enough to be okay with the way her heart was racing as she looked at his shirtless form again.

~~~

The summer seemed to breeze past. Lily spent almost every moment of her free time working outside after she had formed her plan for her entry to the lawn competition.

There were a lot of times where James was outside too and they would talk sometimes. Most ribbing each other like petty housewives about the state of their various lawns. It brought a smile to her face more than she would like to admit.

They had some nice normal discussion too. Lily had walked to the fence, holding the library’s copy of The Southern England Guide to Native Plants and Shrubs by Euphemia Potter. She wanted to ask James a question about one of the ivy species that was mentioned.

He had gotten that same soft smile on his face when he saw the book and Lily had to ask again.

“Did you know the author?” she asked, looking into his hazel eyes.

He nodded. “My mum. She was a botanist. She came to Godric’s Hollow to observe how the competition was helping with local pollinating numbers. Met my dad, that year’s winner, and ended up staying.”

“That is so sweet!” Lily said, smiling a little before it fell. “Are your parents still around?”

He shook his head. “Dad passed away during my first year of uni. Mum passed away last November.”

“My dad passed away in sixth year,” she said. “It gets better, but it still hurts.”

They continued on, both talking a little more but still refusing to disclose what they were doing for the competition, even though Lily’s was a little more obvious with every passing day. James seemed to just be doing normal landscaping, besides his overgrown hedges.

Lily began to notice a lot of things about James. Besides his tendency to speak without thinking, his heart is always in the right place. It caught Lily off-guard most times.

Something shifted in her over the weeks as they worked on the lawns.

It was two days before the competition when Lily got home to see James outside, hedge clippers by his feet as he examined his four very tall and overgrown bushes.

“I hope you’re not planning to win with those,” Lily called.

James smirked over to Lily. “Just wait until I give them a trim.”

“Nicely trimmed hedges aren’t going to beat my lawn.”

James looked at the monstrosity of Lily’s yard. There were lines of primrose flowers snaking through her front lawn and turning to the back.

Lily had spent back-breaking hours and an embarrassing amount of money to make a maze of her yard. It wasn’t like a true maze, you could see every aisle because the primroses didn’t get very tall, but it was the end that really made it worth it.

Lily had converted her small back patio to a fairy garden. She used hanging planters, climbing ivy, and lights to really make it special.

James hadn’t seen it yet. She was going to show him once she had won the competition.

It wasn’t until the morning of the judging that Lily saw that she actually had competition.

Standing proud at the edge of his lawn were four perfectly cut hedges in the shape of a deer, a dog, a wolf, and a large rat.

Lily stood in awe by her window as James was taking small scissors and cutting more details and cleaning up lines.

She opened up her front door and walked to her fence. James turned and met her with a smirk.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

“Good morning to you, too,” he said. “I watched a million Youtube videos.”

Lily brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she inspected the hedges behind me. “What’s the inspiration?”

“Have you heard Sirius call me Prongs?” James asked.

Lily had heard their stupid nicknames in passing. She thought Peter was the worst but all of them were stupid.

“Your stupid nicknames, yeah.”

“So I’m Prongs, Sirius is Padfoot, Remus is Moony, and Peter is Wormtail,” he said. Then made a sweeping gesture back to the hedges.

She blinked in confusion as she looked back at the hedges.

“I’m a little lost,” she admitted.

James sighed. “So, I’m Prongs because Peter once told me the way my hair stands up looks like antlers. Sirius is Padfoot because he is the king of sneaking around. Remus is Moony because he exclusively wore those weird shirts that have wolves howling at the moon when we were 12.”

Lily let out a loud laugh, picturing a small Remus in those kinds of shirts.

“Peter?” she asked in-between laughs.

“We were sworn to secrecy for that story,” he said. “He would actually murder me if I said it.”

Lily laughed and James joined in.

The judging wasn’t until the afternoon, so Lily did some last-minute weeding and watering. She made sure the lights in the secret fairy garden still worked and made sure there were no dead leaves insight.

James was standing on his lawn, talking to two of the most oddly dressed people Lily had ever seen.

The woman was dressed in what Lily could only think of as a robe. It was a bright blue, with belled sleeves. The man was in similar clothes, but a blinding yellow with a long white beard. They both had hats that looked like top hats, only decorated with flowers. They also had clipboards in hand.

Yet another town oddity that Lily would just have to brush off.

James caught sight of Lily and waved her over.

“This is another competitor. She just moved here about three months ago,” James told them as she neared.

“Hello, I’m Lily,” she said upon arrival.

“I’m Albus Dumbledore,” the man with a smile and twinkle in his eye.

“I’m Minerva,” the woman said.

Lily shook both of their hands.

“We’ve been judging this competition for, what? Forty years, now Minerva?” Albus said as Lily raised her eyebrows, impressed.

The woman pinched her lips and nodded. “Twice as long as these two have been alive.”

Lily, James, and Albus laughed. “Pleasantries aside, let’s get to judging.”

James and Lily stayed behind as they went and started looking at James’s hedges, inspecting it with great detail.

“Still using those silly nicknames?” Minerva called, as she began writing down on her clipboard.

“Of course,” James answered. “I would have put a mouse for you, Minnie, but we ran out of room.”

Lily nudged him as Minnie shot him a glare. “Unwise to insult the judges, James Fleamont.”

James frowned and Lily laughed. “Fleamont?” Lily asked.

“That was my father’s name,” James replied. “And I got stuck with it as a middle name.”

“I take it you know Minerva pretty well if she’s using your middle name?” Lily questioned.

“Yeah, she was one of my mum’s best friends,” James sighed. “And before you think that means I have some kind of advantage, don’t. She’s going to judge mine ten times harder.”

It took about ten minutes before Minerva started snapping pictures and Albus stopped writing on his clipboard.

“I think we’re ready to move on,” Albus said smiling.

They came around the gate and Lily looked at them to the entrance of her lawn maze. James hopped the fence to join them and Lily laughed as she heard Minerva call him a showoff under her breath.

“This is a maze made entirely out of primroses,” Lily said before stepping away from the entrance. “See if you can get to the end.”

“Normally, it’s customary not to be able to see all the different paths,” Minerva pointed out, looking across the tops of all the lines of flowers she had made.

“Ah, but most can still get lost with directions in front of them,” Albus said, wisely. “Let’s see if we can win, Minerva.”

They started off, Albus in the lead, who turned left towards the dead end. Minerva tapped him and made him go in the right direction, following her lead.

Lily stayed by the entrance with James. He turned his back after a few seconds.

“I want to do it by myself later,” he said.

It took them about ten minutes before Lily saw them take the path that led them back to the secret fairy garden. She smirked at James when she heard Minerva’s surprised gasp and Albus’s appreciative chuckle.

It took another ten minutes to take notes and pictures of it before they were saying their goodbyes.

They were down the lane before James turned to Lily.

“I’m doing the maze now,” he said, his eyes shining with amusement.

Lily wandered behind him, laughing as he took the wrong turn that led him to exit that made him start all over.

But eventually, he got it. And suddenly it was just her and James on her back patio, surrounded by ivy and twinkling lights. She even found a used metal patio furniture set that she placed. It smelled good too, from the extra honeysuckle she placed back there.

“Pretty nice, Evans,” James said, looking around. “And really good for your first year.”

Lily’s stomach swooped with praise. “Thank you,” she replied. “Your hedges are pretty nice too.”

It was shady in her garden area, so she invited James to sit until they announced the winner.

James told her the story about how he ruined his family’s competition entry by squishing a whole patch of Lily of the Valley’s because he thought they would be comfortable. Lily told him that her sister’s name was Petunia and that her mother was Violet.

The hours flew by as they sat there and talked. Around six is when a moment of bravery came to Lily.

“Want to go get dinner?” she asked him.

A bright smile appeared on James’s face. “Like, just the two of us?”

“Yeah, just the two of us.”

“I’d love that,” James said, a hand coming up and raking through his hair.

They stood up and were about to leave when James’s phone pinged. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked down before gasping.

“It’s Minnie!” he exclaimed.

“With the results?” Lily asked, taking a step forward and invading James’s space.

He didn’t seem to mind. “Yep… it looks like… Oh! I'm the runner up!”

“Who won?” she asked, frowning.

James unlocked his phone and pocketed it. He looked at Lily with a soft smile. “Lily’s Maze and Enchanted Garden.”

“Really?” she asked, stepping closer. James nodded and their eyes locked.

In the heat of the moment, Lily stood on tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Lily could have sworn that the world had slowed its rotation for a minute as pulled away and their eyes met again. It definitely stopped when James cupped her jaw and pulled her in for a real kiss.

They both were smiling when James pulled away. She didn’t know how long they stared at each, smiling like loons until she found her voice again.

“So, uh… Dinner?” she asked. James let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, dinner.”

They just entered the maze again when Lily stopped and turned around. She got close to him again and he smiled, thinking she was going to kiss him again.

Instead, she put a finger to his chest.

“Dibs.”

#jily #James Potter #Lily Evans #Lily Evans Potter #James Potter/Lily Evans #jily challenge #august jily challenge #hp #marauders #lawn competitions #jily fic #jily fanfic #Harry Potter fanfic #Marauders era #James x Lily #jilychallenge

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lallyloo · 3 years

Note

Sending you some lurv ❤️❤️

How are the Wild Horses boys doing in their farmhouse? Did they ever get their lap dog(s)?

CAL! ❤❤ They did get their dog... a couple months ago I actually wrote a secret little thing about it that literally three people have read.. so.. since you asked..

Wild Horses - Merle

(2000+ words of pure softness under the cut)

Link hasn’t given up on getting a dog. He checks the classifieds a few times a week, watching for free puppy postings, and he and Rhett have even talked about stopping by the pet store in town – but neither of them can justify spending several hundred dollars on a dog.

They’re still settling into their farmhouse. Rhett didn’t have much to bring – basically his clothes, his CD player, some books, and a couple posters. Link had a bit more to bring – clothes, books, tapes and cds, movies, and an old TV with a built-in VCR. He also managed to talk his mom into letting him have some old furniture and a couple lamps to use in their new place.

He’d taken his time telling his mom about the house, trying to let her down gently, but she took it surprisingly well. She said she’d rather they were together in their own house than have Link constantly staying overnight at the milk house. Link didn’t ask what she meant by that – likely something to do with his virtue or some other old-fashioned idea. He figured she was being supportive in her own way, and that’s all he’d been hoping for.

His grandma had pared down some of her kitchen cupboards, giving them some old plates and glasses and cutlery to fill their own kitchen. They even had a cupboard dedicated to bowls and measuring cups, with the suggestion that they might bake something eventually. The idea seemed completely foreign to Link, but Rhett has been talking about learning to bake bread, so they figure those items will likely be put to good use eventually.

Their first, and so far ONLY, purchase was a new bed for their bedroom. Link wanted a king sized bed, but Rhett was quietly worried there’d be too much space between them on a big mattress like that. So they settled for a queen, and Link picked out sheets, a comforter, and some fluffy pillows. After all that time sleeping on the tiny milk house bed, they both swear their new bed is like sleeping on the softest cloud.

The house itself is still a work in progress, and will be for a long while, but as far as they’re both concerned it’s theirs and it’s perfect.

But, in Link’s opinion, it still needs a dog.

He’s thrilled when his granddad sends him on an errand one afternoon, and he spots a sign propped up at the end of a farmhouse driveway on the way into town. It’s an old piece of plywood with FREE PUPPIES painted on with red paint.

It feels like it’s meant to be.

There’s no more information on the sign, and no number to call, so Link finishes his errands in town, and then stops by the pet store and buys some dog food and a couple chew toys, before heading back to the farm to tell Rhett about his discovery.

“It’s the last farm before the old grist mill,” Link explains as he fills up a water bucket. “The one where the house is a ways back? The sign out by the road says free puppies.”

Even though they’ve been talking about it for awhile, Link figures it might still take a bit of convincing.

When he’d been thinking about it on the drive back, he imagined Rhett might be reluctant at first, and then laugh when he saw the dog food in the truck, and then still need a bit more prodding about it.

But Rhett seems open to the idea right away.

“You wanna go after work?”

“Yeah!” Link grins. “That’s what I was hopin’. I already got dog food and everything.”

“What?” Rhett laughs, “When?”

“When I was in town.

Rhett just smiles and shakes his head, but doesn’t argue.

Link can’t help but smile to himself as he gets back to work.

They’re getting a dog.

After work they head straight to the farm to see the puppies. Link already had the food and chew toys in the truck, and Link’s grandma gave them a box and an old blanket for the new puppy.

They’re not really sure what to expect as they drive up to the farmhouse, and they’re both looking around as they head up the long driveway.

“You’re not gonna surprise me, are ya?” Rhett asks.

“Huh?”

“You know, buyin’ me a house?” Rhett looks over at him and grins.

Link laughs. “You think I got money to buy this place?”

Rhett doesn’t answer, he just dips his head and takes another look out the windshield as he steers, his eyes roaming over the brick farmhouse and the massive fields in behind. There’s a tractor way in the back of the field, moving along at a slow pace.

“Maybe someday,” Rhett says quietly, like he’s lost in thought.

Link hums in agreement and stares out the passenger side window.

“Hey, there’s someone.” Link points to a woman leaning over a flowerbed outside the house, and she turns to look their way just as Rhett puts the truck in park and cuts the engine.

She watches as they both climb out of the truck, and when they approach the house she heads over to meet them.

“Somethin’ I can do for you, boys?”

“We saw your sign about the puppies,” Link explains, pointing to the road. “You got any left?”

“Sure do,” the woman smiles, “still got a whole litter waitin’ for a home.”

She gestures for them to follow her, and they do.

“I’m Millie,” she says as they walk.

“I’m Rhett,” Rhett says politely.

“I’m Link.”

Millie smiles. “You boys live around here?”

“My grandparents live a few miles from here,” Link explains. “Cattle farm. We both work there.”

“So you’re needin’ a farm dog?”

“Not exactly,” Link smiles. “We just wanted a dog around.”

He doesn’t offer any more than that, and Millie doesn’t ask. She leads them around the farmhouse to a little pen in behind.

The puppies start jumping and yipping when they notice people approaching, and when they reach the pen Link realizes the dogs are some sort of lab mutt mix. His gaze immediately goes to Rhett, because he wanted a lap dog and these puppies will definitely grow beyond lap sized.

But if Rhett is concerned, he’s not showing it. His eyes are moving from one dog to the next, like he’s studying them, so Link turns his own focus to the puppies.

“Go on in and take a look,” Millie says as she opens up the pen, “they’re friendly.”

Rhett steps in first and kneels down amongst the puppies, so Link steps in too and kneels down across from him, waiting to see which dogs might approach them.

There’s a rambunctious one, a nippy one, one that just seems to want to sleep, and a couple randoms that seem to be doing their own thing. After a minute or so, one random puppy trots over to him and Link offers his hand. The puppy sniffs him for a second, gives him a lick, and then plunks itself down over Link’s knees.

“She’s a pretty little one, ain’t she?” Millie says.

Link smiles and nods, smoothing his hand down the puppy’s back. She’s shiny black, with white markings on her paws and under her chin. She seems happy to be sitting with him, and doesn’t shy away from his petting.

“Only girl in the bunch,” Millie continues, smiling at him. “Looks like she’s taken a likin’ to you.”

“Rhett..” Link whispers, and when Rhett looks over Link motions to the puppy.

Rhett watches them for a moment and then reaches over to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

“Can we still call her Merle?” Rhett asks quietly.

“Yeah, man,” Link replies, “that’d actually be kinda cool..”

He should’ve known Rhett would be easy about it. Link was the one who wanted a dog in the first place, and he can’t think of much that Rhett wouldn’t give him if he asked.

They grin at each other, and then Link looks over at Millie.

“Can we take her?”

“Sure can, boys,” Millie replies. “You need a crate or you just puttin’ her in yer pickup?”

“We got a box,” Link explains, “with a blanket..”

“Well that sounds good.”

While Rhett talks to Millie about what shots the puppy will soon need, Link holds Merle and takes her around to say goodbye to her siblings.

“Is the mama dog around?”

Millie shakes her head. “She’s out in the back field with my son. But don’t you worry, I’ll let her know her pup went to a good home.”

Link nods and follows Rhett to the truck, holding Merle close as they walk.

Millie watches them as they load her in the box and Link offers her a chew toy.

“Looks like she’ll be a happy little lady.”

“She will be,” Link says, at the same time Rhett says, “We’ll take good care of her.”

They give Millie a wave as they head back out the driveway.

When they’re on the road, and the truck speeds up, Merle starts to whine.

Link leans over the box and makes soft shushing sounds at her, reaching in to pet her gently. Her little body is trembling so Link pulls the blanket up around her.

“Should I slow down?” Rhett asks.

“Nah, she’ll be alright,” Link replies, “let’s just get her home.”

Once they’re back at their farmhouse, Rhett makes them some dinner while Link carries Merle around and shows her the place. He sticks to the main floor, figuring they can tour her around the second floor later. He points out each room, whispering softly in Merle’s ear, and then he takes a seat on the floor, offering her some toys and kibble.

“I forgot to get a water bowl.”

“Do we need some kind’a special one?” Rhett asks from the kitchen.

“I was imaginin’ one of those little bowls that says ‘doggy’ on it or somethin’.”

“They make those?”

“I don’t know,” Link shrugs, “in my mind they do.”

“Well we can go lookin’ for somethin’ on the weekend,” Rhett says, and he opens a few cupboards, glancing around before pulling out an old stainless steel mixing bowl they’d got from Link’s grandma. “This okay for now?”

“Yeah.”

Rhett fills it with water and brings it over, setting it down in front of Merle. He watches for a second and then takes a seat next to Link on the floor.

“You happy?”

“Yeah,” Link smiles, “she’s perfect.”

Rhett nods, watching Merle drink from the giant bowl.

“She’s not gonna stay small though,” Link adds, and he watches Rhett, trying to read his expression.

Finally Rhett looks over at him and smiles. “That’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, man. We got that big bed. There’s room for the three of us in there.”

Link stares at him for a second. “You’re not gonna let her sleep between us are ya?”

“Just when she’s a puppy.”

“Rhett!”

“Man, she’s gonna fall off the bed if we put her on the edge!”

“We can get her a little doggy bed!”

“Where’s that gonna go?”

“Next to our bed!”

“On the floor?” Rhett reaches over and picks up Merle, holding her up so her little face is pressed next to his, and they’re both looking at Link. “You’re gonna put this sweet girl on the floor?”

“FINE.” Link laughs. “Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor. You and Merle can have the bed. Just come on down when you want a cuddle.”

Rhett lets out a booming laugh and sets Merle down carefully before tackling Link, pushing him down onto his back and hovering over him. Merle jumps around them excitedly, sniffing them and giving their arms little licks.

“You really gonna fuss and sleep on the floor?”

“Maybe,” Link replies, biting back a grin, trying to make himself frown instead. He’s not really bothered, he just likes the attention from Rhett when he pretends to be.

“Well, I’ll sleep on the floor with you then,” Rhett says, leaning down to kiss Link, soft. “Merle can have the bed.”

Link turns his head to look at Merle, “Hear that, girl? You just got here and you’re already takin’ over.”

Merle lets out a tiny yip, and they watch her for a moment before turning back to each other.

“I gotta finish cookin’,” Rhett says.

“Okay.”

“But after we eat you wanna have a cuddle?”

Link grins up at him. “On the floor?”

“Man, wherever you want.”

“Well this is how we live now,” Link says, dragging out the joke. “On the floor. Merle’s in charge.”

“I’m fine with that,” Rhett says, “I’ll go wherever you go.”

It’s softer than Link expects and he reaches up to grab Rhett, pulling him down to kiss him again, a little harder this time. Merle lets out another yip, lunging at them playfully and then bounding away.

“I’m gonna take her upstairs and show her around,” Link says against Rhett’s mouth.

Rhett nods, “I’ll call ya when supper’s ready.”

Rhett heads back to the kitchen, and Link tucks Merle under his arm and takes her upstairs for a tour.

It feels right, the three of them, even if she does take over their bed.

#ask me stuff #rhink #fic #rhink fic #my fic #farmboys #i apologize for the formatting #tumblr hates when i post from my laptop

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Need To Be Cured

Prompt: Logan trying to cure either his epilepsy or chronic pain becsuse he thinks the other sides pity him for it. It backfires, making his condition worse.

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: descriptions on epilepsy and seizures

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2965

Logan takes a deep breath and looks at the table once more. The solution looks so innocuous, barely darker than the water he has next to it. The flask is cool to the touch in his hand.

He’s not been blind. He knows how the others look at him behind his back. He can hear the mutterings of conversations that cease the moment he walks through the door. They pity him.

They pity the way he asks to have a moment to note down the time and type in his seizure journal. They pity the way he has to leave during certain movie nights when the light sequences get too rough. They pity the way he can’t remember things that happen during his seizures.

They pity him. That’s too close to being a joke for his comfort.

They don’t take him seriously, he realized one night when they wouldn’t let him even try to watch Venom with them. They don’t trust him to know his own limits, to make his own choices, or to speak up when he’s being adversely affected.

He overheard Virgil saying they should just wrap him in bubble wrap and leave him be once. It didn’t help that he had a seizure barely an hour later.

Logan looks back at the whiteboard. His thoughts are scribbled neatly in rows, drawn next to the equations and names for the varied AEDs he’s researched. Those work for humans, however, not Sides. He takes another deep breath, slow and controlled. Then he reaches for the recorder on the desk and hits the button.

“Epileptic seizures,” he begins, doing his best to keep his voice even, “are caused by abnormal electrical impulses that act on other neurons, glands, and muscles to produce thoughts, emotions, and actions.”

He rolls his shoulders back to ensure he still has some degree of motility.

“The abnormalities can cause muscle spasms, an inability to tell what is happening around you, and occasionally, a loss of consciousness.”

As he speaks, the residual nerves from finishing his project slowly begin to diminish. His hands don’t shake as he holds the flask up to the light. The solution inside refracts it across his glasses.

“During a seizure, neurons may fire up to 500 times a second, a 625% increase from the normal 80 times a second.”

His arm trembles slightly from the exertion of holding it still. He takes another breath and lowers the flask.

“One of the most studied neurotransmitters involved in epileptic seizures is gamma-aminobutyric acid.” Logan glances over to his notes. “Otherwise known as GABA. It is an inhibitory neurotransmitter that counteracts the effects of other neurotransmitters that cause excitation, or overstimulation.”

No one else listens to him when he’s like this, he realizes suddenly as he starts to explain the side effects of low GABA, they don’t care. They never ask what they can do to help him with his epilepsy, only that they performed some cursory Google search and decided they knew best.

They didn’t want to know about him, they had just decided to pity him.

Well. Lucky for them, Logan knows how to fix it.

“Considering the complicated nature of human brain chemistry,” he says, finalizing the preparations, “it follows that any solution and/or treatment for epilepsy would be similarly complicated. However, as I am a Side, and am susceptible to Thomas’s perception of me, my treatment may be simpler.”

Research into the balance of GABA in stereotypical treatments, regulatory patterns to establish a proper treatment method, far too many late nights performing differential diagnostic testing on himself, on different case studies. Haphazardly assembling tables upon tables of results for comparison. A few too many favors asked Remus to hide the failed solutions.

“And here we are,” he murmurs, more to himself than to the recording, “this should be it.”

He can’t help the slight smile that comes to his face as he raises the flask in a mock toast.

“To my health.”

The solution isn’t quite bitter, not really, but that’s the closest word he can derive for it. He sets the flask aside, now empty, and reaches for the glass of water. The smile doesn’t leave his face.

He did it. He did it. It…it worked.

The experiment worked.

He looks down at his hands, opening and closing them a few times. He turns them over. He can feel them. There are none of the residual tinglings that normally accompanies his movements. No stiffness.

With a rising feeling in his stomach—a good one, not the warning one—Logan moves to the window to look outside. The sun sets over the garden that Roman created in the Imagination for him, the golden light catching and winking off of the damp leaves. It looks beautiful.

He should go for a walk, he realizes excitedly, he should go ask Roman to come on a walk with him. He starts for his door only to pause.

Will they be happy? That Logan’s figured out a way to fix himself?

They’ll be happy, certainly, that they won’t have to pay as much attention to him anymore.

They’ll be happy they don’t have to worry about his needs when they pick what to watch.

They’ll…they’ll probably be happy they don’t have to listen to him out of some obligation anymore.

Logan reaches for the doorknob only to freeze.

Will they…will they listen to him at all now?

The others, despite their flaws, are caring people. Leaving someone in distress is not in their nature, any of them. And they have made it no secret that they…they would rather not have to worry about him.

But if they don’t have to worry about him, they don’t need to pay attention to him. Which means they may not listen to him at all.

Without pity, he may…he may just become the joke.

He blinks.

“—gan! Logan!”

“Oh my goodness, Logan, can you hear us?”

“Back off guys, don’t crowd him.”

“Logan? Sweetie, can you hear me?”

His head feels so heavy. It throbs. What happened? He tries to lift it, even just to turn and see what’s happening, only for it to explode.

Figuratively, but it takes a moment to confirm that.

“Shh, shh,” Janus murmurs as he lets out a pained groan, “don’t move too much, sweetie, take it easy.”

“What—“ why is his throat so dry?— “why are you here?”

Janus’s face twists. “What do you remember, sweetie?”

“I...” He swallows and peers up at Janus. Why is he so blurry?

“Here,” comes Patton’s voice, before his glasses are fixed by two careful hands, “there.”

“I don’t remember when you came in,” he says after a moment, “in fact, I was just going to come and find you.”

“Well, we’re here now, L,” comes Virgil’s voice—where is he?— “and you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Oh, way to go, Peter Deadpan, that’s a great way to reassure him.”

“Kiddos,” Patton says sternly, before leaning into Logan’s line of sight, “Logan? Do you remember anything else?”

“No, why—why am I on the floor? Why does my head hurt?”

“What time did you try and come get us?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“What time, L?”

Logan frowns, blinking long and slow. “Around 2:30. Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it’s almost three, Logan,” comes Roman’s soft voice from behind him, “and we got here at 2:45.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Shh, shh, easy, sweetie,” Janus soothes immediately, reaching out to move a book out of the way so Logan doesn’t hit his head, “just look at me, okay?”

“It worked, I thought it worked—“

“You gotta calm down, L,” Virgil says evenly, “come on. You know we’re here to help, it’s gonna be okay.”

He lets Virgil walk him through his grounding techniques but it hurts. This was supposed to work. They weren’t supposed to pity him anymore.

“Oh, Specs,” Roman murmurs, passing Patton a tissue box when Logan sniffles.

Moving is agony, he realizes as soon as he reaches for a tissue. Everything tingles, everything hurts it’s awful, he wants it to stop, it was supposed to stop—

“There…” Patton finishes cleaning his face off and cups his face to fix the ends of his glasses. “What do you need?”

Logan blinks. “What?”

“What do you need,” he repeats, “what can we do? What would you like us to do?”

“D-do?”

“We want to help,” Roman fills in, still a little out of sight, “if…if you’ll let us.”

Pity.

Anger flares up and he pulls away. “Nothing. You can go.”

Janus raises an eyebrow and hisses lightly.

“We don’t mind, kiddo, we can—“

“I said,” Logan mumbles, as dignified as he can, “you can go.”

“But—“

“Pat,” Roman says softly, “if he wants us to go, we should go.”

Patton looks back down at him. Logan refuses to meet his gaze. He doesn’t want their pity. He doesn’t need their charity. He can figure this out by himself.

“L? Do you really want us to go?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Leave.”

He ignores Patton’s noise of disappointment and does his best to bury his face into the carpet. He hears the soft swish of a Side sinking out. As soon as it fades, his chest shudders with a shaking sob, his glasses fogging up and pressing uncomfortably into his cheek.

He’s ruined everything.

Not only was his experiment an utter failure, but he also seems to have made things worse. His seizures are more uncontrollable, he’s suffering more drastic memory losses, and now…now the others definitely pity him. Perhaps more than they ever did.

He sniffles.

“…Logan?”

Logan freezes.

“I thought I told you,” he chokes out furiously, “to leave.”

“You did,” comes Roman’s soft voice, “but…well, I’ve never exactly been good at listening to you, have I?”

Logan’s fist clenches against his—he’s in the recovery position, they put him in the recovery position— “get. Out.”

“I can’t do that, Logan.”

“Why not?”

“Because you just had a seizure that lasted almost half an hour, and we can’t exactly take you to the hospital.”

Roman’s words twist deep into his chest and hurt. He’s right. Leaving him entirely alone would be irresponsible, not to mention dangerous. But his anger won’t let him admit that out loud, so instead, he bares his teeth in a snarl that Roman can’t see.

“Why,” he spits, “did it have to be you?”

That’s not fair, some part of him whispers.

“Because you’re angry,” Roman replies easily, “and I’m the only one who’s used to that.”

He’s right.

“Then you’d think you’d know better,” Logan says even as he desperately wants to stop talking, “then to do something I don’t tell you to.”

“You can be mad at me, Logan, I don’t care. I’m not leaving.”

“I could just make you leave.”

“You still can’t move,” Roman points out gently, “and I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I wouldn’t need to.”

“Oh, I know you could,” comes the sigh from over his shoulder, “you’ve got more insults and jabs prepared for me than I could anticipate. You could tear me down with barely any effort. Make me argue with you, cry, scream, storm off in a huff, all of it.”

There’s a pause, then a soft rustle of fabric.

“But you won’t.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because you’re you, Logan,” Roman says, “and you won’t.”

Logan’s face twitches up into a grimace as more tears leak out of his eyes. “You’re not allowed to be right this much,” he tries as a last resort.

“I’m not allowed to do a lot of things, Logan.” He hears Roman lean against the wall. “That includes leaving you.”

The anger in his chest melts into just plain hurt, leaving him sprawling awkwardly out of the recovery position. Distantly, he hears Roman get up and come around to kneel in front of him.

“‘M fine,” he manages, “I can breathe and everything.”

“I’m just making sure.” A hand hovers near him. “And to make sure you don’t accidentally roll onto your tie.”

“My tie?”

“Virgil undid it when you were still having the seizure. We had to make sure you could still breathe.”

Oh.

“May I?” Logan lifts his arm enough to let Roman reach in and carefully pull his tie free. The slight susurrus makes his head tingle.

“Bad.”

Roman pauses. “Bad?”

“Bad noise.”

Roman nods. “Thank you for telling me. I’m just going to set this on your desk, alright?”

Logan moves his head enough to watch Roman lean up and set the tie up there. From the angle, he can just see the very rim of the flask.

“Hey, hey,” Roman calls when Logan lets out a whine, “what’s wrong?”

“It was supposed to work,” he manages, “it was supposed to fix this, or at least make it b-better. Not worse.”

“What was supposed to work?”

“My experiment. I—I tried to balance out my GABA levels, stabilize the inhibition of the excitatory neurotransmitters, so this would stop, but it just made it worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

Logan sniffles. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry that it didn’t work.” Roman’s hand hovers in front of his face again. “That can’t be comfortable, Specs, lying on your—well, specs like that.”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.” Roman retracts his hand and sits back. “What’s GABA?”

“What?”

“Your experiment, you said you were trying to balance out your GABA levels, what’s GABA?”

“It’s short for gamma-aminobutyric acid. It’s the primary inhibitory neurotransmitter.”

“And its levels affect epilepsy?”

“Lack of it is one of the main studied causes of epilepsy.”

“So treatments revolving around increasing levels of GABA are effective?”

Logan squints up at him. “What are you doing? Why are you asking me these questions, why do you care?”

Roman meets his gaze easily, stretching out to sit in front of him. “You like talking about your experiments, Logan. You enjoy teaching us things. I enjoy being taught by you.”

Roman what?

“And I’m supposed to be helping you calm down,” he continues, lightly knocking Logan’s outstretched hand with his foot. “Talking about your work often calms you down.”

He smiles and tilts his head.

“And I really hope you don’t need an answer as to why I care.”

Logan freezes.

“W-what?”

Roman’s smile fades as he looks at Logan’s disbelief. Concern writes itself plainly across his features and he reaches out.

“Sorry—“ he catches himself— “can I—may I touch you?”

Bemused, Logan nods, only to close his eyes as the tenderness with which Roman takes his head in his hands. His breath leaves him in a rush and he sags into the grip.

“Stay with me,” comes Roman’s faint reminder. He opens his eyes to look up at him, only to see his face break out into a smile. “Hey, Specs, keep those pretty eyes open for me?”

“You—you think my eyes are pretty?”

“Yeah, I do.” He quirks an eyebrow. “But don’t distract me. Do you—why did you look so shocked when I said I cared?”

“Because you pity me,” Logan argues, “that’s not the same thing.”

Roman’s face truly falls. “No, no, Specs, I don’t pity you. I’m sorry if it ever came off that way. None of us pity you, none of us.”

“B-but you—you won’t let me make my own choices,” he stammers, “you end conversations when I walk in the room, you—you look at me like I’m something you—you—“

“We what, Logan?”

“Like you have to care about me,” he whispers.

“Oh, Logan,” Roman whispers, “no, no, we’ve done this so wrong.”

He comes closer, lying down with his hand still resting on Logan’s shoulder.

“We don’t pity you, Logan. And we certainly aren’t being forced into caring about you. We’ve messed this up good and proper, but I swear to you we don’t pity you.”

Logan’s brain stutters to a glorious pause.

“You…you don’t pity me?”

“No, Logan, I could never pity you.” The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Sometimes I think you’re the strongest out of all of us.”

“…only sometimes?”

“Well, sometimes Virgil decides he’s going to throw Remus over his shoulder like he’s a ping-pong ball.”

Logan snorts at the image. Roman’s smile grows as he watches, rubbing Logan’s shoulder fondly.

“We’ll be better about this,” he promises on a more serious note, “but…please, I know I don’t have a right to ask anything from you, but we’ve never pitied you, Specs.”

“…yeah?”

“Yeah.” Roman gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’re our Logan. We could never.”

“Y-your Logan?”

“Yeah, Specs, you’re not going anywhere. No one else gets to have you. We called dibs.”

“…I do not believe it is possible to call ‘dibs’ on a person.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we did.”

“I’ve never heard you call dibs on me.”

“Well, we did. And I’ll do it again right now.” Roman raises his voice a little, looking around as if at an imaginary audience. “Dibs! Our Logan! Keep your greedy little paws off him.”

“Roman!”

Roman chuckles. “You’re not getting away from us, Specs. You’re stuck with us.”

“Hmm. I can see how this might be considered a tragedy.”

“Truly,” Roman sighs dramatically, “stuck with a family who loves and cares for you, how will you ever survive?”

Logan’s quiet for a moment, before he nervously lifts his hand to lay it over Roman’s. At Roman’s encouraging nod, he squeezes gently.

“…with their help, hopefully?”

“Always.”

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#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil sanders #epileptic seizures #epilepsy

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nomsugayoongi · 3 years

Text

Off My Face. - Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook X Female OC (nameless)

Tags: FLOOOOOOOOFFFFF. Slight angst but mainly just sappy, ridiculous fluff. ("She" is SO into him) And smooching. Think of this as the warm up before the straight up filth starts. :p

She walked outside in silence with Namjoon close beside her. He'd realised quickly that this wasn't a light-hearted situation to poke fun at. She looked troubled and it worried him. He stayed quiet, following her to the very bottom of the garden. She wanted to get as far away from the house as possible due to her irrational but overwhelming fear of someone overhearing. She settled on a picnic bench among some trees at the very end of the garden. Namjoon sat on the table itself with his feet on the bench. "What's going on?" He questioned. She sighed with exasperation. "God, I don't even know. It's so stupid." She groaned. She felt like a complete tool. "Ok, I'm just going to ask you something. Did you sleep with Jungkook?" Namjoon asked.

She frowned, shaking her head emphatically even though the very suggestion made her stomach clench. "But something happened between you right? Last night maybe." He wasn't exactly sure what it was but he was definitely sensing a shift in their relationship. She continued to shake her head. "No, nothing happened. Literally nothing. But..." She broke off and shrugged. "But...you want it to. You like him." He finished. She nodded. "I don't get it Namjoon. He's Jungkook. I've known him ages. I've never even slightly looked at him like that but...last night. God, when he walked in it was like the light dimmed around everything else. He changed right? While I was gone. Something happened to him. Something must have. He's...so different." She muttered. Namjoon smiled slightly and shook his head. "Not really. He's made a couple of changes to his appearance I guess but...that's just Jungkook becoming more fully who he is." He mused. She glanced at him with a slight smile. Namjoon could always be counted upon to speak pure sense. "But then why the sudden attraction? If he is the same guy I left 3 months ago, how come I can't look at him now without my insides going nuts? They didn't before I left. My insides did nothing. Now it's like my heart is trying to physically beat itself out of me so it can get closer to him. It's dumb. I literally can't handle how...sexy he is. He's like this whole new person to me. He's the damn maknae. He's the baby. Unthreatening, sweet little Jungkook. Now he walks into a room and it's like a pheromone bomb explodes in my face and there is not a fucking thing i can do to keep my hormones in check. He walks in, I check out. Full mental shutdown for anything that isn't related to him. I'm like...possessed of something. Can't see, can't hear, can't think anything else. Just him. And my head is taking me on this fully realised, sense-surround journey of me and him. Thoughts of him...in ways I didn't even know I COULD think about him." She shook her head, the floodgates opening and everything she was thinking and feeling just spilling out. "This cant be happening Joon. It just can't. I can't feel this way about him." Namjoon smiled, "Why not? He's not seeing anyone. You know that. Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him what's going on" he suggested. She shook her head rapidly. "Ohhhh no. Nope. No way. Can't. What the hell would I say? Oh Jungkook, I Lost my damn mind in England and now you're crazy hot. Wanna make out?" Namjoon laughed heartily. "Maybe don't word it that way. But you know you can talk to him. He's Jungkook. He'd get it. And maybe it would help you to feel not so crazy. You can't keep this to yourself." He said. She shrugged. "Have to. I can't tell him Namjoon. I don't even understand it. And hey, it could be just like....a fleeting thing. Quick infatuation cause i've missed you guys." She mused, not actually believing it at all. And apparently Namjoon didn't either. "Well... Are you having these feelings about any of the rest of us?" He questioned. "No." She replied. "Exactly. I don't think it's just cause you've been away. I think you've realised that home wasn't what you thought it was. Going back to England showed you how much has changed and now you're back here where you belong, your eyes are opened to other things that might not be what you thought they were. Like Jungkook." He offered. She hummed thoughtfully. It did sound plausable. But the part of her that didn't want to engage in this messiness threw up defences. "But why him? He's Jungkook. I'd get it if it was Jin or you or..Shugs even. But he's the baby. He's the least threatening of all of you. Except maybe Jimin and that's only because he's actually made of rainbows." She joked. Namjoon smiled and shook his head. "But he isn't. I think this is why you feel like he's changed. Jungkook isn't a kid anymore. We've all joked about the Maknae. But he stopped being the baby years ago. He's grown. He's an adult. The changes... The tattoos and piercings and hair. He doesn't want people to see him as a kid anymore. You thought he

was safe because he fit into a nice little box of being the baby. Now he's challenging that. And it's not just how he looks. He's more...in control of himself. He's putting out hard that he's grown. You're just...picking it up!" Namjoon explained. She huffed, dropping her head between her hands. "Well he needs to quit it. Things were simpler when he wasn't threatening. His new sexiness is offensive to me. I feel attacked." Namjoon laughed and she raised her head, smiling slightly. She knew she sounded childish. "I really think you need to talk to him." Namjoon suggested. She sighed, shaking her head again. "I can't. It's too messy. And he'd feel weird about it and it'd make it awkward and I don't want that. It'll pass. This time next week we'll be laughing about this conversation." He could hear the hopeful tone in her voice but wasn't convinced. convinced In all honesty, Namjoon thought she'd be great for Jungkook. He needed someone to balance him out. He was too hard on himself. Overly critical about everything he did, from starving himself before video shoots to completely breaking down if he made the smallest mistake. He needed someone to bolster him. To show him how he actually was. Not what his critical mind told him he was. It was a running joke that Jungkook was good at everything but Namjoon didn't like where it seemed to be going. He worried for his youngest brother. He felt that her affections could be exactly the thing Jungkook needed to calm him down. To show him that he didn't need to try so hard. He was enough. He needed someone to adore him for exactly who he was. And she was perfect. And Jungkook was perfect for her too. He could ground her. Show her that even though this wasn't where she was born, it was where she belonged. Show her that she wasn't an outsider. He could anchor her. Give her the confidence she was so desperately lacking. They would be so perfect together. But he could tell by her expression that this wasn't a conversation that she was willing to hear right now so he kept it to himself. "So what now?" He questioned. She shrugged, looking defeated. "Dunno. Just wait for it to pass I guess. Namjoon, please don't say anything to the others." She asked, looking suddenly panicked. He smiled, jumping off the picnic table and pulling her into a hug. "Of course not. But if you need to talk about it..." She nodded against his shoulder, suddenly overwhelming thankful to have such amazing people in her life. "Thank you Namjoon. I don't know what I'd do without you." She whispered. He laughed, tightening his hold on her. "You never have to find out" he said comfortingly. ----------------------------------------------------------- Weeks passed. Her feelings didn't. If anything, they were getting stronger by the day. Being around him was painful. Being away from him was worse. She was convinced that she acted differently when he was around. She felt more distracted but Namjoon assured her it wasn't noticable to anyone else. Her cover was still in tact even though she was sure that every interaction with Jungkook turned her into a spazz. They'd planned a movie night. She was going to cook for the boys, something she loved to do then they were all going to crash out in the lounge and binge watch films. After a day of shopping for food and prepping, she was ready for a relaxing night. It was extraordinary how much food those 7 guys could put away. Even after overestimating and cooking what she thought was way too much, they still managed to finish everything. She picked at her food. Cooking always made her lose her appetite and honestly she was just tired. She wanted to collapse on the sofa and zone out for a while with the comforting noise of her favourite people around her. As the meal finished, she began to gather up the plates and clear away. It could have waited until the following day but she thought she might as well do it then while she still had a scrap of energy left. With a tower of plates and bowls balancing precariously on her arm, she teetered into the kitchen and started loading the

dishwasher. She'd have to go back out for glasses and serving dishes. She smiled to herself, listening to the rabble coming from the guys as they moved into the lounge and fought over who got what seat. She heard the kitchen door open behind her and figured it'd be Namjoon or Yoongi. Generally If she was doing something, they helped. She turned and saw Jungkook wandering into the kitchen with a stack of serving dishes. He was balancing them on one arm while eating the remains of the top dish. "How are you still eating?" She chuckled, shaking her head. He smiled sheepishly with a shrug. "I can't waste good food." He replied with his mouth still full. She rolled her eyes, having a moment to enjoy the warm feeling that filled her tummy when he looked happy. "You didn't eat much. Are you ok?" He asked, the concern he expressed marred slightly by the giant amount of noodles he was trying to stuff in his mouth. "Yeah I'm good. I'm just not hungry. I'm always starving when I start cooking and by the time I've made it, I don't want it." She explained with a smile. He dumped the dishes on the counter next to her pile and turned to her, leaning against the worktop. "Are you sure you're ok? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages" he said softly. Her heart fluttered as she turned to face him. There was a moment of silence where she contemplated her answer. A tiny part of her was telling her to tell him how she felt about him. The vast majority of her was screaming to keep quiet. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yeah...I'm ok. Tired I guess. And a little cold. Maybe I'm getting sick." She shrugged. He nodded slowly, the expression on his face was difficult to read but it made her stomach churn nervously. She turned to the dishwasher, distracting herself from his gaze by stacking the plates. "Leave that. We'll clean later." He said. She felt his hand on her back and almost jumped out of her skin. She straightened up and steadied herself. He'd taken off his white hoodie and was holding it out to her. "You said you're cold." He offered. A wave of affection surged through her as she looked at him. His soft brown eyes studying her carefully. She tilted her head to the side, taking in how beautiful he was. Not just in looks but In general. "Jagi" she whispered, barely audibly. The endearment left her lips without her even noticing. His eyes widened slightly for a second then a shy smile tugged at his lips. He pushed his hoodie into her hands. She took it, pulling it over her head, the smell of him enveloping her. As she straightened the hood and pulled out the yellow drawstrings, he stepped closer, untucking her hair from underneath the hoodie. He straightened her hair then paused, catching a loose strand from her forehead and pushing it away from her eyes, tucking it carefully behind her ear. "Sit with me?" He asked. She looked up at him, her heart hammering as she nodded. "Mmm hmm" She followed Jungkook into the lounge feeling slightly dazed. Maybe it was the lack of food. Maybe it was the brief interaction she'd just had with him. Maybe it was a combination of both but she felt...different. Her tummy was squirming but in a good way. She felt...warm. Her interactions with him were usually tinged with nervousness or fear. Would she slip up? Would she say or do something that gave her away? But at that moment she just felt peaceful. She just wanted to be with him. Wherever it was or whatever they were doing, it didn't matter. The guys were already sprawled over the sofas and Yoongi was arguing with Jin over what film to watch first. Jungkook picked the corner of the largest sofa, nudging Namjoon further over so there was space for her. She didn't miss the knowing smile Namjoon flashed her as he relented what was arguably the comfiest spot on the sofa. Jungkook sat, patting the space beside him which she took happily. He threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. The arguement about which film to watch ended, the lights were turned off and silence fell as the movie began to play. She wasn't paying any

attention to the film whatsoever even though she was technically looking at it. She was too lost in her thoughts to actually notice what was happening. She'd watched films and cuddled with the guys numerous times. Jungkook included. But she felt so different. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. His face illuminated by the screen. She could seem him gasp at a cool part or laugh at a funny part. She felt every movement when he stretched or wriggled. His arm moved from round her shoulders and rested between them as he slumped further down on the sofa. She watched his hand gradually move closer to her leg. She moved her hand closer to his, using her little finger to trace the letters tattooed on his knuckles. She saw his face break into a smile and he straightened out his fingers, making it easier. She traced each letter slowly, then the crosses between, then the BTS logo. He chuckled softly and she glanced at him. "Tickles" he mouthed. She grinned, stopping her tracing. "Sorry" she mouthed back. He shook his head. "Nice" he muttered. He turned his hand over so it was palm up and she smiled, turning her attention back to his hand to trace the lines across his palm. He sighed quietly, resting his head against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes. He liked the attention. He needed it. He'd been feeling pretty down on himself over the past couple of weeks. He'd noticed that she'd been avoiding him and it bothered him. He couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong and though he felt the constant need to apologise to her for it, he didn't know what he was apologising for so instead he just kept quiet. His hyungs did their best to boost his mood but their affection and attention didn't affect him the same way hers did. They were his family. They loved him so it made it easier to take their encouragements with a grain of salt. But she had no reason to pretend. If she was giving him her attention, it was because she wanted to. And he craved her attention more than he wanted to admit. He knew that to her he was just the maknae but sometimes it was nice to just feel like himself. He focused on the feeling of her fingers gliding softly along his hand, moving up his wrist. It tickled pleasantly. He wanted more. He wanted everyone to go away so that he could have her full attention for a while. The delicate stroking of his arm stopped and he felt movement beside him. He opened his eyes as she was getting up. "Leaving?" He asked, unable to hide his slight frown. She smiled and shook her head. "Bathroom" she whispered. " Back in a minute" She needed a breather. A second away to collect herself. She was falling into this a little too much. Being in such close proximity to Jungkook. Neither one of them actually paying attention to the movie. He looked so peaceful and content as she'd been playing with his hand. She noticed every time he'd smiled or sighed happily, every twitch of his fingers when she ran over an extra ticklish bit. She wondered if he'd noticed that she'd traced the heart on his hand more than any of his other tattoos. She studied herself in the bathroom mirror. His hoodie was too big on her and she grinned as she wrapped the yellow drawstrings around her fingers. She took a deep breath, tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach and headed back. The way she felt in that moment, 2 minutes was too long to be away from him. He greeted her with a smile as she crept back into the room and took her place beside him once again. "Okay? He whispered. She smiled and nodded. She snuggled back into the big cushions and turned her attention to the film. She wanted to keep touching him but didn't know if the moment was ruined. He closed his eyes again, also wondering if her attentions were finished. He felt her shuffle beside him but didn't open his eyes. He was kind of disappointed really. Or at least, he had been for the first few minutes. Then he felt her fingers in his hair, pushing through until she touched the skin on the back of his neck. The pleasent tickle returned with the smooth, feather like glide of her

fingers. He shivered slightly, leaning into her touch. His eyes fluttered and he let his head lol forward. She traced swirly patterns from the nape of his neck, down, pushing her fingers under the collar of his t shirt to stroke the top of his back. She'd tickle up and down his neck then under his collar and along to his shoulder then back. He was almost purring. Her light touch felt so good. He was angry that his hyungs were in the room. Had they been alone he would have just laid on his front, whipped off his shirt and left her have it it. He wanted more. He wanted to feel the soft glide of her fingers all over his skin. As she pushed her fingers up through his hair another blissful shiver traveled down his spine. All thought fell from his head as a he lost himself in her delicate stokes. Slightly more pressure against the back of his head then soft again as she wrapped his hair round her fingers. He wasn't sure how long it'd been going on for but it didn't feel like long enough when she stopped. His eyes felt heavy but he forced them open, looking at her quizzically. "What?" He asked, noticing the slight bashful expression on her face. "I need to stop" she whispered. He frowned, "Why?" She sighed, exasperated. "I need a drink" she mumbled, getting up and heading for the kitchen. He sat for a minute, puzzled, then headed after her. He found her in the kitchen leaning against the opened fridge door. "What's the matter?" He asked, closing the kitchen door behind him to drown out the movie sound blaring from the next room. She huffed and shrugged keep her back to him. "I just...need a drink. And to stop petting you like a dog" she muttered. He laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't mind" he replied. "Well I mind" she snapped back. He frowned, dropping his hand. "Oh....ok. Sorry." He mumbled. She turned to look at him, a bashful kind of hurt look on his face like she was angry at him. Her heart ached. "No...Jungkook, I mind because...." She took a deep breath, hating the look on his face, "...because I don't want to stop. I want to stoke you and pet you and make you feel good. But I can't because the more you enjoy it, the more I want to kiss you." She blurted. He looked at her wide eyed. Her face burned, her heart thudding wildly. Well damn. She'd said it now. "Jungkook...I'm sorry. I have been having such a shitty time being around you. Since I got back from England, you're all I can think about. I am so fucking into you it's not even funny. And I want to be close to you and do things that make you feel good cause there is NOTHING nicer than seeing you happy but it's just all tangled up in this shit i'm feeling and I don't know if I can keep them separate and I'm so scared of making you feel awkward or uncomfortable so....it's better if I just...go!" She sighed. Jungkook didn't seem phased. He nodded as though he understood then took a step towards her. "Kiss me?" he said softly. She nodded, rubbing her face. "Yes, I wanna kiss you" she replied. He took another step, a smile tugging at his lips. "No I'm not asking if you want to. I'm..." He sighed, "...I'm telling you to do it." Now it was her turn to look surprised. She frowned, looking at the smirk playing round his mouth. "Huh?" She barked. He took another step, closing the gap between them, he reached for her hands, pulling her to him. "Come here....and kiss me." His voice was lower and breathy. His brown eyes flashed as he leaned in, shaking his hair off his face. "Show me what you're feeling" he whispered. She almost wilted. His eyes closed heavily, his nose touched hers, their was a sharp inhale of breath from her, her grip on his hands tightening then her lips brushed his so lightly. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Her legs didn't feel like they could take her weight. His mouth opened, she could taste his breath. She wasn't sure if he was teasing her or they were teasing each other, either way, there was a delicious moment where the promise of the kiss hung in the air between them, then it ended, her lips

caught his, her hands sliding up his arms and winding round his shoulders. It didn't feel like a tentative first kiss. It was supercharged. All force and heavy breathing. It was like he could feel how much she wanted him and he fed off it. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her head steady as he took possession of her mouth, his tongue explored, he nibbled her bottom lip, she moaned against his lips, fingers curling against his shoulders. He could feel the slight nip of her nails through his shirt and it only served to make him kiss harder. He was rapidly losing control of himself. He felt greedy. He could feel the waves of desire radiating off her. The air was thick with lust. She wanted him. And he wanted her to want him. But not here. Not like this. He hated it but he eased up, letting go of the handfuls of her hair, trying to steer this back to somewhere manageable. He kissed her softer, running his fingers down her cheek, feeling her grip on his shoulders relax. He diverted the attention from her mouth, kissing sweetly along her collarbone then up her neck. A slight, mischevious nibble of her earlobe made her breath catch but he grinned, running his fingers through her hair. "Naekkeo!" he whispered.

#jungkook #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #bts #ot7 #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #jungkook fanfic

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Note

would you consider writing me some precanon jongeorgie angst. bc i imagine they probably bonded over their interest in the supernatural but never. you know. actually talked about their personal experiences/trauma. just give me a little of both of them handling that trauma very badly while never admitting their closest brush with the supernatural. or something. idk.

Hello anon! I haven’t written Jon/Georgie yet, but this prompt was too good to pass up. Hope you like!

Being with Georgie was easy. It shouldn’t have been, not for him.

But it was.

She carried herself with the utmost surety: of her opinions, of her feelings, of her place in the world. It wasn’t arrogance, more like confidence and something else Jon couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was a blankness in her eyes sometimes. Not an absence of feeling but an absence of...understanding, maybe. Of empathy. Georgie saw the world in black and white; she knew exactly what was right and what was wrong. She was blunt. She bulldozed over others in conversations, pointed out flaws that polite society knew to overlook and not name. Jon admired it, as much as it made him cringe.

But it was complemented by her fierce capacity for loving, her clever, teasing words, the way her fingers ran through his hair when he was stressed. That black and white view could quiet his mind like no other- ‘yes, Jon’, ‘no, Jon.’ She listened to his incessant rambling, nodding in the right places and adding her own commentary. She filled out the crosswords in the morning, her brow furrowed in concentration, colorful nails tapping at the table. She never wanted help, stubborn to a fault. Her dark skin ethereal in the morning light, the way her voice was low and croaky before her coffee. The ease with which she said ‘I love you.’

He remembered the day she first approached him, all ripped-tights and smudged, smoky eyeshadow. Just leaned against the wall on that chilly fall night and snatched the cigarette right from his hand, an eyebrow flicked upward as she took a drag. He couldn’t get a word out, just silently took her phone when she offered it and typed in a number with shaking hands. A year later and she was still that same girl, though he’d seen her stash of manga and her weird cat memorabilia. She was whole, real. It was comfortable.

“I’m not really sure if I should go.” They’re curled up on the couch, Jon leaning into the warm bulk of her. “All of the others are going, though.”

“It’s not like you’re close, right?” Jon’s petting the Admiral, the new addition to the household fitting in seamlessly. “I’m sure she won’t take it as an insult. You can always say you’re busy. Who was it, again? Her father?”

“Yeah.” Georgie’s shifting against him, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. It’s odd- she’s not usually so awkward about these things. If there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about, she shuts it down right away. This seems...different. “And no, not close. But everyone else is going- they want to show their support, I guess. It would be awkward if I didn’t.”

Perhaps Georgie didn’t like funerals. You’re not supposed to, of course. Maybe it was a phobia, a perfectly valid one. Plenty of people don’t like to see the reminder of death laid out before them. Jon’s been to a few in his lifetime- for his Gran’s friend, for a distant cousin.

For his parents.

He doesn’t remember his father’s, he might not have even gone. He was only two at the time. He distantly remembers his mother’s; it wasn’t well attended, he sat in the front row with his Gran. He doesn’t even remember crying, if he even realized the thing in the box was his mother, dead and gone.

Needless to say, he understands Georgie’s sentiments. “You don’t have to go, not if...not if you don’t like it. Plenty of people are uncomfortable with death-” This was the wrong thing to say, for Georgie tensed instantly, leaning away from him.

“That’s not it at all,” she says, snatching her legs out from where Jon’s leaning comfortable against them. “It’s- it’s the performance of it all. All those people standing around a body, sniffling and moaning-”

Jon tried for levity, bristling at her tone. “People grieve, they need closure-”

Georgie snorted, this time shoving him away on the couch, the Admiral jumping from Jon’s lap at the movement. Her words became impassioned, as if Jon needed to know, needed to understand. “Cremate them, then! Say a few words, scatter the ashes, whatever. But having the body on display like that?” She gets up, starts to pace. Jon’s never seen her like this. “Paint the corpse, dress it up, pretend it’s a person still but it’s not, and everyone’s just standing there around it, praying over it and watching it like it’s not just rotting meat you put lipstick on-”

“Georgie!”

“I can’t stand it.” She stops in front of him, chest heaving and eyes aflame. “What’s so monumental about it? We live, we die- and her father was old, it was bound to happen sometime. No need to make such a to-do. It’s- it’s just disgusting, is what it is.” She didn’t continue, and an awkward silence permeated the room.

Georgie got worked up about things on occasion. But the wild look in her eye, the total sense of incomprehension was...disconcerting. He agreed with her on certain points, of course, but the vehemence behind them- something wasn’t right. But it didn’t feel right to pry, either, and Georgie surely wouldn’t appreciate it.

“You could just say you’re busy, you don’t have to go,” he tries tentatively. She seems to deflate where she stands, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. So he stands up, taking her hand in his. She lets him, but doesn’t meet his eyes. “But if you do, I can come with you. If you’d like.”

They stand in the very back row of the church after awkwardly greeting her grieving coworker. Georgie’s nails dig painfully into his arm, but he says nothing. They leave after ten minutes and stop at an Indian buffet on the way home. He silently watches her dig into a curry, his own untouched.

___________

When she first met Jon, she thought he was utterly out of her league.

It was her first semester back at school, she was an absolute fucking mess- drinking at all hours, barely present in her classes. She was out at the bar with a few new friends, most of whom she’d already forgotten the names of, and saw him standing there under a single flickering lamp, a cigarette dangling from long, slender fingers, raven hair back in a messy bun. Not many people could pull that off but he looked almost effortlessly cool (a thing she’d later find laughable for ever thinking) in his dingy leather jacket, his eyes far away and shadowed. She wondered what made him lose sleep. He had an odd, crooked little smile on his face and she was filled with liquid courage. The look he gave her when she took that cigarette out of his hand made her knees weak, and he took the proffered phone like he was only a little impressed. She sent a text to his phone and left, so embarrassed she went straight home.

He never did text her. To be fair, she never expected him to.

But she found him not two days later, hunched over a table in the campus library. She did a double take- surely this couldn’t be him, her impossibly handsome, silent figure who she surely dreamed up. But there was no mistaking that hair, those eyes. He was smaller, somehow diminished in his baggy jumper and wire-rimmed glasses, tapping a pencil against his textbook in irritation. Before she knew it she found herself picking up her phone, sending a text to the number with no name. And sure enough, his phone buzzed.

They went out on their first date a day later.

Jon was a ball of nerves, awkward and not at all like the man she thought she met that night. Somehow, the real Jon was better. She liked the way he blushed and stammered, the way a touch of her hand left him flustered and unable to speak. The way he could talk for hours about nothing at all, making even the most dull of subjects seem interesting with that voice of his- a voice surely meant for radio or T.V., something Jon himself endlessly scoffed at whenever she brought it up. They would sit in front of the telly for hours, marathoning ridiculous ghost hunting shows and pointing out the obvious fakes. Jon had a weakness for ghost stories, just like she did. “Most of them are absolute drivel, of course,” he said.

Most of them.

They found comfort in each other, their small island of two, had no need for other company. Georgie had never been able to relate to someone so well, not since Alex, and Jon was never fond of crowds. Three months in he tried to break up with her, saying he could never give her what ‘she needed’ but she stopped that in its tracks- Georgie would be the one who decided what she did and didn’t need, thank you very much. She liked the way he leaned into her on movie nights, like her touch was the only thing that mattered. The sincerity in his eyes whenever he complimented her in that earnest, awkward way of his. He challenged her when he thought she was wrong, sometimes their fights lasted days. But they always came back to one another, each knowing they had no one else who understood them. Was it healthy? Georgie couldn’t answer that, she didn’t know herself. Jon probably didn’t either. But she loved him, in her way.

That night they have a few glasses of wine, and Jon’s regaling her with some ridiculous story from his youth- apparently he was somewhat of a delinquent, wandering about at all hours. She laughs in delight, imagining a small, serious Jon climbing fences and evading the law. But suddenly Jon stops, his eyes going wide and his face growing ashen as he stares unblinking at the table.

It’s a spider- a tiny thing, really. Georgie’s been seeing a lot of them lately, and she really should be better about dusting the place. But Jon- Jon looks absolutely terrified, like the thing’s bound to leap out and kill him. She opens her mouth to tease, an instinctive reaction, but is instead startled by the loud smack of a hand against the table. Jon had smashed it certainly, but he lifts his hand and stares at it in wide-eyed horror, as if whatever he sees is nine times worse than the original thing.

“Jon-”

The chair hits the ground as he stumbles to her bathroom with heavy, labored breathing. She gets up slowly, approaching as quietly as possible to find him hyperventilating against the sink, the faucet on full blast as he washes his hand- scratches it, really. He’s mumbling frantically under his breath.

“...so many legs, get off, get off-”

She makes her presence known as not to startle him, approaching from the side and gently wrapping a hand around his arm once she sees him drawing blood. He starts anyway, his movements jerky and frenzied as he rips his arm away like her touch burns.

“It’s just a spider Jon,” she says softly, lifting her hands to show she means no harm. “It’s okay, you got it, it’s dead now-”

“But what if it isn’t!” He spits, slamming his hands on the marble rim of the sink and leaving bloody prints in his wake. He’s breathing so fast she thinks he might pass out. “What if it isn’t?”

She has no answer to that.

It takes about two hours, a hot shower and a stiff drink for him to calm down. They lay on the couch, watching something stupid, mind-numbing. She runs her fingers through his hair. He always liked that. She doesn’t say a word, he’s exhausted, and she knows from experience that pushing him will just lead to another fit like before. The next day, he brings her Hungarian by way of apology. They eat in a more comfortable silence, Jon gradually warming up as the evening goes on. Still, she doesn’t ask.

She spends the weekend cleaning her flat, standing on a chair and vacuuming at the cobwebs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440474

#my writing #prompt fill #the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #georgie barker #jongeorgie #precanon #angst #bit of a relationship study idk what you'd call that #Anonymous

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infernwetrust · 3 years

Text

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 1

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: Michael has some business handled at his California home.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff, a lil smut, MURDER, some graphic descriptions

WC: 3.1k

A/N: I thought long and hard about starting this, but I’m gonna go ahead and give it a shot. Outpost Michael fits this perfectly of course, but he’ll cut his hair every now and then lol. This will have it’s own bracket on my master list. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The air was cool. The evening was just right. Your husband Michael had decided to throw a small party that consisted of only close friends, family members, and some staff from your residency and Michael's line of work. Party music played moderately in the background as the backyard of the Santa Monica Villa you and Michael purchased this same year was filled with laughter, dancing, and casual conversation. Servers carried around platters of the most delectable finger foods. Drinks were also being served. Cars were lined up in the driveway, late arrivals having to park on the side of the road. Luckily, Michael always sent one of his guards on a golf cart to pick up his guests that had to park far away.

Michael laid in his hammock, across his rather large pool so that he was away from everyone else. Michael dressed comfortably. He wore a beautiful salmon pink floral shirt and white slacks, with a white belt. No need for shoes. Around Michael's neck was a platinum rope chain that glistened when the light shined on it just right. Around his wrist was a platinum iced out Rolex watch, his name engraved on the inside, one of his favorite gifts from you. The only ring he decided that he wanted to wear today was his wedding band, which shocked you. Michael always wore all of his rings.

Curled up against Michael's chest yours and his beautiful 1 year old boy, Malcolm. He was blessed with a full head of hair, just as blonde as his father's. He took after your eye color, but his resemblance to his father was unmatched. No worries because in his twin brother's arm was your handsome 3 year old son, Michael,who captured most of your features. All really, but your eye color. Michael won that fight again. Junior, is what everyone calls him. On the opposite side of Michael, still in his hammock was you, dressed in that sundress Michael loved to show you off in. Your wedding ring glistened on your finger, no matter what time of day it was or where you were. Michael made sure of that. Around your neck, your favorite Pearl necklace.

You lay head your head on Michael's chest, rubbing your hand gently against the back of your one year old. Michael raises his arm slowly as to not alert the sleeping child and takes a sip of his whiskey. He's glaring at someone, hard. And you know why and who, but you rather choose to not address it. All you were waiting for were the words.

"You know, brother." Jim said to Michael, using his free hand that wasn't holding Junior, to also take a sip of his drink. "I don't see how you do it."

"And what is it that I do, Jim?" Michael questioned, turning his head slightly to meet his brothers gaze. Junior nestled his head back into Jim's chest, mouth full of goldfish out of the bowl he was holding. Jim sat in a chair, adjacent to Michael's hammock.

"How you stay so calm and collected about things."

"Dirty work is not something I'm a fan of."

"But I am."

"I know, so that's why I gave this task to you."

"You know I'll do anything for my family."

"I just don't see why we can't just kick them out." you mumbled, watching as Malcolm grabbed your finger in his sleep as you tried to put your hand back down from his back.

"Because in this life, lessons have to be taught." Michael answered you, putting his glass down to wrap his arm fully around you. Michael made eye contact with his other twin, Duncan, who sat amongst a group of women, one of them in his lap, stroking his hair. He nodded, giving Michael the cue. "Will you go ahead and take the kids inside?" You sighed, sitting up, looking Michael in his soft blue eyes.

"Baby, you don't have to-,"

"One day you'll understand, Y/N." Michael said, cutting you off, grabbing one of your hands and giving it a few small kisses. Getting up, you gently picked up Malcolm, holding him close to you.

"Come on, Junior."

"Nooooooo." Junior whined, not wanting to leave his Uncle's side. "Don't wanna."

"Hey." Jim said, playfully grabbing Junior's tummy, causing him to giggle. "What was that phrase I taught you?"

"The first time." Junior responded happily.

"The first time what?"

"Listen!" he clapped, letting go of his bowl which Jim quickly caught before it fell to the floor.

"Smart boy. Now go with inside with your mommy. We'll play later, yeah?" Junior quickly nodded, scurrying off of Jim's lap and to your side, grabbing your hand. He turned around momentarily to look back at Jim, who shot him a quick wink before you took both boys inside. You also managed to scurry up the other children as well, promising treats and a good show on TV. You had them at treats.

"He loves you so damn much." Michael said, sitting up, hanging his feet of his hammock to come face to face with his brother. "Sometimes I swear he thinks you're his father."

"I mean. I could be. We're twins."

"Watch it, playboy."

Jim chuckled, reaching for his drink to take another sip. He dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, black slacks, and a pair of dark blue dress shoes. A black Louis Vuitton belt, midnight silver buckle, lined his waist. He sighed, reaching for his pistol that was tucked neatly behind him is waistband. He quickly removed the clip, checking it, and popping it back in before setting it down on the table next to Michael.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Jim questioned. "He's been with us for a few years, Mike."

"All the more reason to get rid of him. I've taken care of you for years and you betray me like that?" Michael answered. "He knows too much and has seen too much."

"That's true." Jim mumbled, rubbing his hand underneath his chin. "What are they doing with his body?"

"Burning it." Michael said quickly, squinting his eyes at Jim. "Like we do 90% of the time. Do you not want to, Jim?" Michael's question caused Jim to laugh as he got up, returning his shirt back into his slacks. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the table, taking one out, placing it between his lips and giving it a light, tossing the box back on the table. He inhaled sharply, before exhaling lengthy.

"You and I both know, Michael." Jim began as he took another hit of his cigarette. "That I shy away from nothing. Especially not an, how do I put this, opportunity." Jim tucked his gun back into his waistband.

"And speaking of opportunity." Jim continued, looking out into the body of people before hitting his cigarette one last time and then handing it to Michael. "Here's mine."

Jim made his way, at a decent pace, back to the other side of the pool, where all the party goers stood. He took his time, waving and smiling at familiar faces. Spotting his target, he moved with just a little bit more urgency. It's such a shame that Bryce had to go. Michael watched Jim as he moved, continuing to sip his drink. Part of him wanted to look away because this hurt him as much as it was going to kill Bryce. Bryce was one of his favorites.

He remembered when he stumbled across Bryce who limped out of an alleyway, screaming for help as Michael closed up his bar. When Michael laid eyes on him, his clothes were completely ruined by blood. He held onto his stomach, collapsing onto the sidewalk, coughing up more blood as he spoke. Michael made his way over to the boy, kneeling down by his side, removing his hand from his wound, watching as the he poured out.

"How bad do you want to live?" Michael asked, cocking his head at the boy.

"What the fuck is up with you man?!" he questioned. "Help me!"

"I asked you a question." Michael spoke again. "You want to live right? I could just let you die, here."

"Um, kinda, yeah!"

"Then tell me how bad you want to live."

"Bad man! Bad! I want to fucking live bad! Please don't let me die!" Michael grinned. How fragile life was, he thought. How it could just be taken from you at any moment. Moments like these.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Br-Br-Bryce." he responded before blacking out from the pain.

"We're going to get you alllllll fixed up, Bryce."

Michael took Bryce, not to a hospital, but instead back to his property, where his own private doctor could deal with Bryce. They managed to take care of what they discovered was a gunshot wound instead of a stab wound like Michael originally thought when he found Bryce.

"How's he doing?" Michael asked Dr. Joseph as he stepped into the rather large, renovated, shed he had given to his doctor for his medical practices. He even was nice enough to give him a little office space as well.

"Well. He's very lucky considering how much he was bleeding." he answered. "Those two bullets I removed barely missed his vital organs, but he'll make a full recovery."

"Which room do you have him in? Is he awake now?"

"Room 3. It has the most room. The last time I checked on him, yes."

Michael nodded at his words, making his way over to the room. He entered quietly, not wanting to startle, Bryce. Bryce sat up in the bed, sipping on an ice cold water, scrolling through the movies on the flatscreen TV Michael had gotten installed in every room. Jim's idea, of course. There was an awkward silence in the room as Bryce didn't know whether to thank him first or say fuck him for waiting until he passed out and asking him all those stupid questions.

Michael didn't say anything as he walked around to the side of Bryce's bed, pulling up a near by chair to sit closer to him. Michael leaned back in his chair, throwing a leg halfway over his knee as he clasped his hands together. Bryce never took his eyes off of him, not sure what his next move would be.

"You're welcome by the way." Michael said. "Isn't it nice having someone take care of you without all the pesky need for insurance information or just a bill in general?"

"Why are you doing this?" Bryce questioned.

"Answer me this, Bryce." Michael leaned forward in his seat. "What if I offered you a chance to start over? A new chance at life. Somewhere, where you could be safe, your meals paid for. And all you have to do is stay by my side, loyal to me."

"I'm not gay, man."

"Who said anything about being gay?" Michael questioned, raising his eyebrow. "And what if I was?"

"Listen." Bryce breathed out. "I didn't mean to offend you. Look. Thank you. For bringing me, to, well wherever we are, and helping me. And once I'm all healed up, I'll be all out of your hair."

"Do you have any family, Bryce?" Bryce's whole attitude changed. He looked softer.

"No..." he answered silently.

"Well you do now."

Jim was just a few feet away from Bryce now when the two made eye contact. And when Jim reached, rather quickly, behind his back, Bryce knew. Of course he knew what he had done. Bryce turned around to start running, when Jim quickly cocked his gun and fired two shots, both at the back of his legs. Everyone stopped what they were doing, in shock, but not enough shock to runaway. It was Jim and who dares question one of Michael's brothers. Everyone watched as Bryce fell to the floor, screaming bloody murder in pain. Jim continued to walk at his leisurely pace to him, standing in front of him.

"Now." Jim said aloud, over the groans and screams of Bryce. "I know you all looked at Bryce as family, right? 4 years ago my brother found this piece of scum bleeding to death, begging for help. And of course Michael helped him."

"I'm sorry!" Bryce yelled, hands reaching out to grab Jim's ankle and it took everything in him not to kill Bryce right then and there, but he wanted to get his point across.

"And with the help of our wonderful Dr. Joseph, he was taken care of, free of charge, can you believe that?" Jim continued. "And all we asked for in return was just his unwavering loyalty." Jim snatched his ankle away from Bryce's hand, stepping on it, instead, causing him to scream out again as his fingers were crushed.

"But when you lie to AND you steal from the hand that feeds you." Jim looked around at everyone as he said this. "There are consequences." Jim kneeled down in front of Bryce who looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, pleading with Jim.

"Please..." Bryce whispered to Jim, grabbing ahold of him again. "Please Jim, I'm sorry. I was desperate."

Jim grabbed him by his face, snapping his head up to look all the way at him. He looked at the gun in his opposite hand, before looking back at Bryce. The small breeze that was in the air had come completely still, everyone virtually silent as they watched the events unfold. When things first went missing around the house when Michael would hold meetings, they didn't even think to look at Bryce. Not until Michael had trusted him enough to appoint him as Duncan's right hand man. Duncan handled all of the cartel's finances and when he kept coming up short on the days just him and Bryce would do the counting, he caught on rather quickly.

"I liked you Bryce." Jim said, jaw clenched. "I really did. We all did. We loved you almost, but you know the rules, don't you?"

"Jim please..." Bryce whined, starting to cry his eyes out, but only enough for Jim to see and hear. "Please man. I'll do anything. Anything please!"

"What did I tell you happened to those who betrayed the cartel? What is your own way out once you're in? I mean I could just let you go, yeah? But once you walk out those doors you become a liability to me, my brothers, and my family. And I just can't have that."

"Death..." Bryce mumbled. "But we can work something out, please!" Jim chuckled as he let go of Bryce's face, quickly cocking his gun again, before holding Bryce's face up again. He put the gun inside of Bryce's mouth, looking him dead in his eyes.

"Maybe in another life." And with those words said, Jim pulled the trigger, the sounds of bloods and mush splattering across the ground. A few turned their heads, not wanting to see the sight. Jim looked up and back across the pool at his brother who downed the rest of his drink, nodding at Jim.

"Clean it up." Jim said to the disposal crew who stood near by, rising to his feet, and tucking his gun back away. "Everyone else can carry on."

///

The warm water danced on your skin as you stood in the shower, washing away all events from today. You put your face underneath the water for a few seconds before running both of your hands through your hair. When you turned around you were startled by the presence of your husband, Michael, who stood behind you, a little soaked from the backlash of you being underneath the water. His vibrant blue eyes were now several shades darker as he was out of the sun light. He simply just stared at you.

You offered to trade him positions under the water so he could get completely wet too and of course he didn't object. You were now staring at him as he stepped underneath the water, sighing as it hit his skin. He ran his hands over his face as he turned around to face you, getting off as much water as he could before he opened his eyes again to look at you. Water dripped off his skin and your eyes couldn't help but trail all over him. He was so beautiful. His long blonde hair, over shoulder length, completely wet now as the water continued to pour down on him. You almost smiled, remember when Michael told you that he was going to start growing his hair out. He cut it every now and then, but nothing compared to long haired beauty.

"I'm sorry." he spoke, running his hands over his face again. "I know you don't like when.. you know." You walked over to your husband, pressing your forehead against his, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His large hands found their way to small of your back, pulling you even closer.

"I know..." you mumbled, using your thumbs to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not mad at you, Michael. I just don't want you to become... emotionless."

"Everything I do is to protect you and our boys. Without my family, I am nothing. This empire? We built it, Y/N. Not just me. I'm still here emotionally, but you know it works. He was too much of a liability to just let go. And when the right information gets into the wrong hands, I'm only sure you can imagine what happens."

"Do you ever get afraid, Michael?"

"Only if it deals with you and my sons." he said, looking down at you, smiling. Cheeky bastard.

"I'm being serious. What if one day you go out and don't come back home? What if we get attacked here? What will I do? What will I tell our children?"

"Don't you ever worry about that, my love." Michael reassured you. "As long as my brothers and I are alive and breathing, no one will be in any kind of danger. I promise." Michael brushed his lips across yours as he finished his sentence. You pulled him in for a kiss. A hungry one, it was, as your tongues wasted no time entering each other's mouths, Michael's dominance showing as you basically let him devour you, melting away at his touch. He backed you up against the shower wall and you gasped against him as it was cold. He picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him like your life depended on it.

"Let me help you forget..." he said against your lips, brushing his nose across yours and you remembered, just how in love you are with Michael.

Taglist: @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @jimmason @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #american horror story #cody fern imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #jim mason #duncan shepherd #tribes of palos verdes #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader

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thatonecitykid · 3 years

Text

I bet on Losing

Hey everyone! Sorry this is so sad.. was already crying so might as well make everyone else cry.This takes place after Endgame but during the same time as Far From Home. Listen to "I Bet on Losing Dogs" by Mitski for the full experience. Word Count: 2517. Have fun angels :)

Peter had finally left for his class trip, Pepper and Morgan had gone to spend their summer in Malibu, the remaining avengers were either in space or had completely disappeared from your life. Here you were after five years of your life had evaporated, and after all this time you had to play your fathers role for all the remaining avengers. You hadn't had the opportunity to cry when you first learned about what had happened. You couldn't cry at the funeral, not because you did not want to, but because you felt as if your father wouldn't want to see it. No one wanted to leave you alone, but after months of trying to dig some type of emotion out of you they had assumed that the death and slow disappearance of your makeshift avenger family had unaffected you.

You finally had the opportunity to exist alone. You had also finally mustered up the strength to visit secluded cabin your father had lived in for the last five years of his life. Although you had been given the keys immediately after the funeral, something about visiting the area made you feel uneasy. Not necessarily creeped out but just as if you did not belong, after all it was something your father invested in after you had already blipped away for several months.

You drove up to the cabin alone, slowly unlocking the door as if to not start or whoever may be inside. Before even entering the cabin, it looks clean, you assume that Pepper has had people cleaning constantly to maintain the cabin. It made sense, it was something she's cherished. You stepped into the cabin slowly and began to look around. The walls were lined with framed pictures of Morgan, family pictures of Pepper, your dad, and Morgan, and random posters and vintage albums. Although you were not the one to complain about it, having no evidence of your existence in the main areas of the home caused your heart dropped. As you wandered through the kitchen and the main family room, there is no evidence of Tony's life prior to the blip, just a somewhat normal family of three.

You decide to wander to the basement area, leaving the office and bedroom spaces upstairs for later. There was a large sitting area that you assumed they watched movies in. There was also a playroom painted pink featuring all sorts of gadgets very similar to those you grew up with that Tony had made for you. Towards the back hall of the basement, it was a glass door to your father's workshop area. You open the door gently and made your way in.

Despite looking like somewhat of a mess, you knew that behind the madness there was a method. You could tell that although your dad left in a hurry, things were placed in specific spots very similarly to how he did in every other one of his workshops. You walked towards his swiveling chair, noticing a metal box with a button on the worktable. You press the button and jump back as a life-size hologram of your father appeared in the room. He began

"Hi Pepper. My love, my muse, my boss. If you are listening to this then I did the one thing you have always told me not to do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the worry I've put you through, and I am sorry for taking myself away from you. I was a gift wasn't I. You've already seen another version of this message, but it never hurts to see your face again my darling."

The tears in your eyes begin to form, not because you had not expected to see your father. At this point you had already seen the message he had left after the funeral; It was only really meant for Pepper and Morgan, never addressing you.. At the funeral you refused to enter the cabin but as you watched the message while standing outside, Happy looked over at you with remorse but you kept a straight face again. Who were you to complain at your dead dad's funeral? Yet this message radiated the same energy.

As the second portion of the message began to play tears began to fall faster. It almost feels like an out of body, sure your dad had taken up different kids during your time growing up, but this message made you feel as If you had been completely replaced. Although it felt like a dumb theory there was no evidence as to your existence prior to Morgan.

"Hello my little scientist. How's my favorite person. Daddy is really sorry I can't be there right now. Be a trooper and hug you mom for me real quick. Now you must be surprised because I'm supposed to be the strongest dad in the world but let me tell you kid, sometimes crazy things happen when put on the ironman helmet. My little minion I love you 3000. My love for you is infinite. You have been and will forever be daddy's best friend."

Here you were crying over a child who had also lost her father, filled with jealousy over the fact that you father had chosen her and failed to consider your return but had prepared for Peter's return, still had projects waiting for Harley, and had in fact set up a stable plan for Morgan's future. At this point you were sobbing, what had all felt like a bad nightmare and jumping to conclusions had started to feel way too real. This emotion was even stronger than when you watched footage from your father suit as the snap happened, this emotion felt like a stab in the back.

Maybe he never loved me.

You tried to collect yourself but were still sobbing when the holographic figure of you father disappeared. You might as well finish the house tour before leaving. The upstairs portion of the house featured Tony and Pepper's room, Morgan's room and two other doors. The main bedroom was tidy and organized, with a closet full of clothes that both Pepper and your dad had left. You walked into Morgan's room and did a quick look around, not wanting to invade child space. Returning to the hallway you opened the door to your father's office. Inside there was a rather simple with a desk, a leather chair, and two matching chairs. The plants in the room were growing well, meaning someone still came to water them. There were a few pictures on the wall, including Peter's Stark internship picture, and a random picture you took of the original Avengers after their first New York battle. On the desk there was another metal box similar to that in the workpace. You argued whether or not you wanted to potentially break your heart more before giving in, siting in the leather seat and pressing the button.

A slim beam of light scanned over your face, confirming your identity, and the box began to play. To say you were shocked is an understatement, as your father's hologram appeared across the desk sitting in one of the matching chairs.

"Hello Munchkin. If you've found this box, then I just going to have to accept that I've failed you. You've been gone for five years and regret every moment leading up to when you snapped away. You really did want to come to space with me, and honestly you would have been helpful, but I don't think I could see you Blip away and have the will to continue. That being said because I am already admitting I was wrong, I should not have had your suit take you to the bunker room, where you eventually snapped away alone. I regret that decision y constantly. On another note, I'm sorry I didn't hug you as soon as you got back, I clearly I cannot really hug anyone."

You had finally given up on holding in their tears. You didn't have to be strong in front of your dad. He had always held you when you cried and this time he couldn't. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but nothing felt the same.

"I hope you are crying, because if I'm crying alone during this part, I'll be embarrassed, his image continued as it stood up and leaned against the back of the chair. Munch I know you've probably walked around this house and have found no evidence of yourself. You've probably beat yourself up about how much I love Morgan, but think about it. The amount of time I've spent these last 5 years essentially idolizing you would not have been good for her to experience. "

You rose quickly from the chair. Not even one damn picture?

"Now I know you're wondering not even a single picture. Pick up the projector box and follow me ."

You did as the digital version of your father told you and followed it back into the hallway.

"Put the box down and put your hand on the center of the door. "

This activated a scanner which opened up the door to the room. As you walked in you recognized that this was an exact replica of your room back in the Malibu house. You were still a kid when the original house was blown to pieces but somehow everything was exactly as you remembered it. As you walked further into the room you noticed the large screens, placed like picture frames, which played videos and pictures of you and your dad throughout the years.

Your father walked towards the center of the room, bounded by how far the projector was.

"You see kid, me and you have somewhat the same grieving styles. I have a feeling you didn't cry at the funeral. I have a feeling you haven't cried, at least in a way that someone else could have noticed. You take after me in that sense."

The hologram started to sniffle, your dad had actually started crying when recording this. You really wanted to hug him, the reality of his death hurt even more. You had finally allowed yourself to start grieving.

"Look, I know you used to listen to the song about betting on losing dogs when you wanted to cry, but that does not apply to you at all. You may have gotten a more complicated stick of life, but I can tell ya, this does not need to be your villain origin story. From the first day I took you home I could tell you were a fighter, but I need you to feel as if its ok to cry. I've spent hours on this floor in shambles wishing you were here. The small things that Morgan does that remind me of you throw me into sadness pools constantly. You are my motivating force. I really hope you allow yourself to cry about it so that you can continue in life. I don't think I can stand in this room for any longer before I cannot speak at all, so please take the projector back to my office. "

As you lifted the projector you thought about how much this must have hurt your father to record. Maybe he didn't want anyone to encounter this box except for you. As you placed the box on the desk, you sat back into the leather chair as your father's holograph sat across from you.

"On a different note, you are probably wondering why I seemed to set up a game plan for everyone but you. With Morgan I just made sure she had a comfortable, who am I kidding, lavish funding behind her. I can't dictate what a five-year-old should do. For Harley you know that I've always looked out for him, a position in Stark industries honestly should not have surprised you. Peter is what I feel most conflicted about. I'm not setting him up to become the next Ironman, I'm setting him up to become the greatest version of Spiderman he can be. Well, I know the media is probably going to take it and run having known that Spiderman and Ironman we're friends at some point, but I'm really giving you the biggest responsibility. I don't expect you to live in my shadow, I want you to outgrow it. I think you might be surprised to see everything that I left you, besides Stark industries itself. That's a conversation for another day."

"I know I've been speaking for quite a while, but my baby, my baby yes I called you that. I know how much this has all affected you, and I'm sorry, I am completely sorry and do take full fault for it all. But now because we cannot change the past, let's focus on the present. I want you to know that I loved you with my entire being. I'm not sure how to emphasize this enough but I do want you to know you were cared for, you were loved, and you were thought about for every minute. If you don't get to see this message, and I'm already gone, that means this message will never have to play for anyone. Either I found you and I've given you a new message, or I'm rolling in my grave. Either way my darling I cannot emphasize how much I love you. I do hope for the best for. Before I have to go, I want to see you smile. Sure, I can't physically see it right now, but I can imagine it."

As the recording choked out that last sentence, you flashed a weak smile. A face sticky with all the tears that you have been crying.

Now I know you need to get back home, but when you get back to the city, stop by the shawarma place and get something to eat. you gotta eat Darling. Also don't act like you don't like Peter, you two idiots keep pushing each other away in cannot take it. Now I'm gonna say goodbye mini me. Watch over Pepper and Morgan for me, okay? I love you."

You took one final sweep of the house before heading back to your car. You had cried so much that your eyes physical hurt. You almost felt a sense of comfort having finally released some of the pent-up emotion. As you drove towards the city and towards the Shawarma place you almost felt kind of sad, knowing that all of your friends were in a foreign country. Yet you still felt as if your best friend, your Dad was watching over you. And in all reality that felt as if it was the only thing that mattered.

#stark reader #stark!reader #irondad #tony stark x reader #peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader

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