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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Desperate Measures 2

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation, fingering, toyplay, fuck machine, control, overstimulation, cock ring, oral

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

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: Okay, here’s the last half!

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Part 1

I can't let this, I can't let this go When I got you right where I want you I been pushing for this for so long

💌

You put your to-go box in the fridge. Your appetite was all but gone after the encounter but Eva barely seemed to notice as her gushing went from the unexpected cameo of America’s hero to Ray again. Another argument meant she was holding out to punish him but you knew it wouldn’t last. She was already incessantly checking her phone.

You sat as she took selfies on Snap and shared them in her passive aggressive way. You knew this dance. She’d keep going until she got a reaction. You took your own phone but hesitated before you lit up the screen. It unlocked as it registered your face and the number over your inbox made you wince.

It was like a story in itself, the unanswered text bubbles lined the rectangle; ‘where’d you go, sweetheart’ to ‘what’s wrong?’ to ‘I will find you’ to ‘you better answer me, sweetheart’. You could almost hear them in Steve’s deep tones and it made you shiver. The phone suddenly vibrated and sent another wave through you.

‘Seven tonight. I’ll meet you in front of the bar,’ the message said tersely.

You lowered the phone as Eva searched for better lighting and angled her phone around as she pouted. You watched her and the phone buzzed again. You looked down at the next message.

‘You answer me, sweetheart.’ Still all you could do was stare blankly until you felt another jolt, ‘either you come to me or I come to you.’

The threat was clear. It wasn’t just about you. He knew you were at Eva’s and you had no doubt he would break through any obstacle between you. You saw him sitting across from you in the restaurant, felt the way his eyes bore into you.

‘Okay,’ you texted back. It was all you could handle.

Eva giggled and flopped down on the sofa, “oooh, Ray is so mad.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured as the heart emoji popped up on your screen.

“I sent him the pic I got with the Captain,” she smirked, “he’s so jealous.”

“Do you two ever stop?” you rolled your eyes and set aside your phone.

“Babe, he might be a jackass but the way he serves--”

“Say no more,” you pointed your thumb down your throat, “please.”

💌

Eva was gone before seven. You were thankful that you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to her but disappointed nonetheless. You walked the block down to the bar and stood by the corner of the low wrought iron fence that lined the busy patio. You held your phone in your hand and hugged yourself with one arm. You felt sick and numb.

You felt a light touch on your elbow and spun. Steve smiled down at you as he wore a ball cap and dark blue jacket.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he said, “I got a bit held up--”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“Sweetheart,” he warned as his lips straightened, “I don’t like to be interrupted.”

“I don’t understand,” you hissed, “I just don’t. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Why I’m doing what? Why I love you? Sweetheart, you need to be better to yourself and if you can’t do that, then I guess I have to,” he tickled your cheek with his fingertips, “are you hungry?”

“No,” you crossed your arms as he glanced over at the patio, “please, just stop. Leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes and his jaw tensed. He swallowed and his hand dropped to your shoulder. His thumb rubbed your shoulder through your light cardigan.

“Don’t be like this,” he said, “after all I’ve done for you. After--”

“I never asked for any of it,” you croaked.

“You interrupt me again,” he squeezed your upper arm and leaned in, “and there will be consequences.”

Your eyes widened and you gaped up at him. He grinned and dropped his hand to take yours. He drew you away from the hedges along the fence and walked you down the street.

“Since you’re not hungry, I guess we can just go home,” he tugged on you as you dragged your feet and you stumbled to catch up. It felt as if he would crush your hand as he stopped by a sleek car and reached into his pocket to unlock it with a chirp, “sweetheart,” his tone was grizzly as he exhaled in frustration, “I don’t like this. This isn’t you.” He opened the door and loomed over you as he lowered his voice to a whisper, “be a good girl.”

He nudged you into the car and you sat heavily as he shut the door with snap. Your hands shook as you turned your phone over and hit the emergency call number. Before you could hit the nine, he was in the driver’s seat and ripped your phone from your grasp. The doors locked with a loud click.

“What do you think the police will do for you?” he growled as he started the car, “do you think they’ll believe you? You think they don’t have a record of all the crazed fangirls who ever followed me around?” he scoffed and reached over to slap your thigh, “buckle up…” he lifted his hand and stroked your neck, “we don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

You slowly pulled the belt over and buckled it. You were trembling so much it took several tries. You let out a brittle breath and sank back against the seat, “no,” you said quietly as you glanced out the window.

“Good,” he said as he drove with one hand still on your leg, “I only want to keep you safe.”

💌

The walk-up looked like any other on the street. She iron railing along the concrete steps, the faded brick, the frosted glass slats of the front door, and the twisted metal numbers just above the mailbox. Steve walked behind you and kept you trapped between him and the door as he unlocked it.

You entered if just to get away from him and he calmly locked the door as he followed. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it with his cap on the hook along the wall. He waited and crossed his arms as he watched you expectantly. You hesitated and pulled off your cardigan. He took it and draped it beside his jacket.

You froze and stared at the shoe rack. There were several pairs of women’s shoes in the cubbies and the hooks not only held his own jackets, but at least two meant for a female counterpart. You took a step back and peered around. Your blood turned to ice as you saw yourself smiling back from a photo; a picture printed out from your social media.

“I’m still working on some things,” he said as he followed your gaze and adjusted the frame on the hook, “of course, you can bring some stuff over to make it more homey.”

“What…” the air rushed from your lungs and your head spun.

You backed up and caught yourself on the wall. You were losing your mind. This couldn’t be real. None of it. He was crazy.

“Let me show you around,” he didn’t seem to notice your distress, or he just didn’t care. He grabbed your hand again and pulled you away from the wall.

You let him guide you through the front room, the dining room, the kitchen and back up the hall as he pointed out the half-bath. You didn’t process much of it and as he urged you up the stairs, you tripped and hit your knees on the next step. He helped you up swiftly, his arm around you as he walked you up the rest of the way.

You could hardly support your own weight. He sat you down on a bench along the wall as you struggled to breathe. He knelt before you and framed your face with his hands.

“I was gonna wait,” he said, “but you made me do this. And now neither of us are ready but this how it has to be.”

You reached up and grabbed his hands as you stared back at him in horror. He didn’t even flinch as he kept his hands around your face.

“Get yourself together,” he said darkly, “now.”

He dropped his hands and stood. You watched him and nodded. You gulped and got to your feet, your legs weak but you forced yourself to stand.

“I’m sorry,” you said without thinking. He smiled and your heart dropped. Why were you apologising to him? You weren’t wrong, you were trapped.

“Come on,” he shoved you ahead of him and pointed you past the open bathroom door. You peeked in as you passed and stopped at the next, “go in.”

You entered the room. It was a tidy bedroom with everything in its place. The rug, the chair, the bed, the sheets, the dresser; everything was finely arranged and painted a scene you found in lifestyle magazines. He brushed by you and pointed to the door at the other side of the bed.

“Your closet,” he said.

You went forward and opened the door as he watched. He flicked the switch as you poked your head in to look around at the hangers. There were more clothes in the closet than you ever had. Some of them were even identical to pieces you already owned.

“Before we move on,” he went to the dresser and the subtle whisper of the drawer sliding out pulled your attention back to the room, “you should change.”

He laid out a frilly lavender piece. The fabric was see-through and there was no crotch. There were flowers embroidered where your nipples would be, the fabric ruched along straps. You looked at him and back at the flimsy lingerie.

“I’ll wait outside,” he backed away, “surprise me.”

“I… Steve--”

“Captain or sir,” he corrected as he filled the doorway with his broad figure, his hand on the handle, “you will learn the rules as we go.”

“I can’t--”

“You can,” he insisted, “rule number one: you address me properly. Rule number two, you do what I say. Rule number three,” he held up three fingers, “you break the rules and there will be consequences. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

He stepped into the hall and slammed the door. You flinched and looked back at the purple bodysuit. You shuddered and sniffed as your eyes tingled and your nose tickled. You wanted to break down and cry but your fear kept your tears inside. You undressed and pulled on the dainty lingerie.

He knocked just as you finished and pushed open the door without response. His lips parted as his eyes roved your body and you tried to fold in on yourself. He waved you forward and you reluctantly crossed the room. His fingers danced along the seam along your side and lingered just along your pelvis. You may as well be naked.

He gestured you further down the hall to the door at the very end. He slapped your ass as you walked ahead of him and he groaned. You stopped as you saw the thick latch above the handle and you felt him against your back as he caught up.

“It’s unlocked… for now,” he said.

You opened the door as the lightbulb bloomed to life on a censor but you couldn’t cross the threshold. Your mouth hung open as you looked around at the walls, sketches of you pasted across every inch. In all of them, you were naked and contorted in some lurid position; some alone, some with Steve, others you were strapped own while a few had you touching yourself.

You took a step back and collided with Steve. He urged you inside with his body and the door closed. You peered around as he turned to lock the door but there wasn’t a keyhole but a keypad. You couldn’t see what he pressed as he shielded it with his back and your legs threatened to collapse again.

More than the pictures on the wall, the room was a personal playground. There was a bench in the middle that was fit for those kinkier videos you found on the internet, with straps hooked in rings along the legs.

Aside from that, there were leather cuffs, crops, and other whips lined up neatly over a table, surrounded by a litany of silicon, metal and glass toys. In the corner, there was a boxy machine on wheels with a rod sticking out of it.

You spun around and Steve caught you. You reached over his shoulder for the door as panic flowed through you like electricity.

“Please,” you begged, “please, let me go. You can’t--”

“Sweetheart,” he cooed as he took you off your feet and carried you further into the room, “tonight, we’re just getting you ready…”

“No, no, no,” you ranted as you struggled against him, “no, I can’t--”

He threw you down on your feet and as you wobbled, he caught your throat, “never say no to me,” his eyes flared with anger, “do you understand?”

You swallowed and nodded stiffly above his large hand, “yes..”

“Yes, what?” he sneered.

“Yes, sir,” you forced out, “I… I…”

“Will you be good?” he asked as he lifted a brow.

“I’ll be good, sir,” you echoed.

“Turn around,” he released you harshly and you staggered awkwardly until your back was to him.

He rounded you and grabbed your wrist, he pulled you to the cushioned horse and urged you up onto it with a curt order. As he strapped you in, your panic spiked again and you pulled with a squeal of terror.

“If you continue to struggle, it will only be worse,” he said as he buckled in your ankle, your pelvis prone over the end of the bench, “sweetheart, I have to train you because right now, you’re being bad. I can’t love you if you’re bad.”

“Please,” you eked out, “Steve, this isn’t you. You’re-- you’re Captain America--”

“And you’re mine,” he snarled and grabbed the back of your neck as he stood and pushed your head down against the bench.

He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass. The strike stung badly and you whimpered as you braced for another. It never came and you sensed him move away from you. You turned your head to watch him as he went to the table but could not see what he was doing.

He spun back and marched around the back of the horse. You tried to crane your head up to keep an eye on him and he smacked your ass again.

“Eyes forward,” he commanded.

You turned your head straight as you let out a whine and he pushed his hand down your thigh. He prodded your ass with the toy in his other hand and the soft click turned to buzz as the vibrations reverberated through your flesh. He rolled it down and pressed along your folds. You squeaked at the sudden ripple it sent through you.

“Just relax,” he coaxed as he pushed between your folds and cupped the toy against your clit, his hand nestled between the leather and your cunt. Every muscle in your body tensed and you gritted your teeth as your core burned to life, “that’s it, sweetheart,” he kneaded your ass with his other hand, “gotta get you ready for me.”

You muffled a sob and pressed your cheek to the bench. You curled your fingers around the metal legs and braced yourself against the rising pleasure. His touch crawled down your ass as he rolled the toy against your bud and he pushed a finger into you. You moaned as he pulled in and out.

“That’s it,” he purred and added another finger, “sweetheart, you’re so tight. So tight for me.”

Your breath hitched as clicked the toy to a higher setting and his fingers sped up inside you as he bent them to reach that most tender spot. Your voice wisped from you without restraint and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure smothered your fear.

“I don’t think you’re ready,” he said, “too tight…” he fucked you even harder with his hand, “you need more.”

Your cunt clenched around him as you came and your walls twitched against his thick fingers. An ocean of pleasure washed over you as he teased your clit to the point of pain. You cried out at the overstimulation as your orgasm crashed down on you. You barely had time to catch your breath as he brought you to another peak and you whined desperately through your teeth.

He slid his fingers out slowly and spread your juices down your thigh and left the toy beneath you as he freed his hand. He backed away and you heard the sloppy noise of him sucking on his wet fingers. Your eyes fluttered open as he went to the table again and wiped his hand on his jeans.

He came back to you and pushed down the straps of the lingerie. He lifted you the inch allotted by the restraint and pinched your nipples with the metal clamps, letting the chain hang between them as he dropped you back down. You grumbled as the feeling plucked at your core.

He returned to the table then went to the corner. You looked up as he rolled the machine towards you, a dildo screwed onto the rod. You pulled at your cuffs helplessly and he slowed as neared you. He stopped and knelt to caress your head as he gripped the firm toy.

“Not quite as big as me,” he smirked, “but it will help…”

“Please,” your thighs tensed as the toy beneath you kept buzzing, “please, sir, no more.”

“Shhh,” he stood and rolled the machine around you.

You listened to him as he adjusted it and lined it up with your cunt. He pushed it until the tip was at your entrance and you stretched around it as he inched it forward. He stopped until the toy filled you. There was a momentary lull and then a subtle whir added to the vibe of the toy as the dildo moved mechanically in and out of you.

You sucked in air as you were fucked by the toy and Steve fixed the vibe beneath you so that it was flush to your clit. You cried out and he backed away as he looked you over. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the pressure building inside of you. The steady motion of the toy was enough to push you further and further with each stroke.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Steve leaned against the table, his eyes watching you over a sketch pad as his hand moved a pencil on the other side. You didn’t even have the sense left to be ashamed. You bit your lip and rolled your eyes back as you succumbed to another orgasm. You heard his low hum of satisfaction and quaked atop the bench.

You groaned and opened your eyes again as he neared. He pet your head and held up the pad before you. Lines of graphite etched your image onto the paper and you stared at the sight of your fearful pleasure. He smiled proudly and stood. He puffed his chest and ripped free the page and taped it up with the rest.

“I think that’s the best one,” he said, “it’s a lot easier with the real thing.”

You quivered and panted against the bench. He disappeared behind you and the toy plunged into you even faster and deeper than before. You grunted and lifted your head as you arched your back.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he reached under you again and clicked the button on the toy until it was on the sixth setting, a vibration that built to top speed only to restart at the lowest and build back up, over and over, urging you to climax only to ease off right before it came, “you’ll be ready… soon.”

He retreated and you looked around your shoulder as you heard the pinpad, “where… where are you going… sir?”

“You need time,” he said as he opened the door, “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

The door closed and you whined. You tried to rip your hands free from the straps and kick your legs but did nothing but add to the whirlwind of pleasure and pain. You were screwed, literally.

💌

You didn’t know how long Steve left you for but it felt like forever. You hardly heard the door as he entered or the deep of the pin pad as he locked it. You only truly knew he was there when the machine stopped. He slowly slid it out of you and rolled it back to the corner. He took the dead toy from beneath your cunt and paced around you.

He wore only his briefs and stopped by the table as he rubbed the front of them. Your vision was hazy and your mind could only think of your core. Even after all that, you wanted more. You need more. You’d been fucked for what could have been hours but hadn’t cum since he abandoned you.

He pulled down his underwear as he faced you completely. He was only half-erect as his fingers toy with a silicon ring. You squinted as he squirted lube onto the ring and rolled it down his length. He grunted as he got to his base and stroked himself as he neared.

He traced an oily finger along your cheek and gripped your jaw, “open, sweetheart.”

He was completely hard by then and pushed his tip to your lips until they parted. He slid inside as he spread his hand over your head and pinned it to the bench as bent his legs. He poked at your throat but didn’t force himself deep, even as you hardly took in half his length. He fucked your mouth carefully as your saliva squelched loudly.

“You ready for me?” he asked as he continued to thrust, “hmmm?” He pulled out of your mouth and you coughed as your spit clung to his tip. He pushed a finger against your tongue and bent over you, “we have lots of time to use that mouth…”

He stood and dragged his hand down your back and came up behind you. He groped your ass and spread your cheeks with a purr. He rested his cock between them and rubbed himself against your ass as he kneaded your hips.

“You ready, sweetheart? You gotta tell me,” he dragged his nails down your thighs and you trembled.

“I’m… ready…” you gasped out, “sir, please…”

You couldn’t think straight, you could see clearly, and you surely couldn’t fight it any longer. You wiggled your ass and let out a pathetic groan.

“Mhmmm,” he gripped his cock and pushed his tip down along your folds. He pressed against your entrance and tapped it cloyingly.

“Please… sir,” you begged, “please, I’m good. I’m being good.”

“Yes, you are,” he praised and pushed into you just a little.

You moaned and slowly he inched deeper. He was bigger than the toy, thick and throbbing as he filled you more than you could handle. You whined and exclaimed as his pelvis came flush to your cunt. Your toes curled and you scratched at the metal.

“Fuck,” he bent over you, his hard torso to your back, “you are so tight…” he whispered in your ear and felt along the clamp over your nipple, “is it too much, sweetheart?”

You nodded and bared your teeth. He pulled back and you exhaled but he thrust just as deep and you shouted in surprise. He did it again as he crushed you against the bench and squeezed the clamp tighter on your nipple. Your voice trickled from you in weak whimpers as your body shook uncontrollably.

His other arm snaked around you and he buried his hand beneath your pelvis. He parted your folds with two fingers and flicked your clit with another. You murmured and rolled your head against the leather as he sped up, his flesh clapping loudly as he hammered into you without restraint.

“Ah, sweetheart, I don’t think I’d last much longer,” he purred in your ear, “fuck I coulda cum in your mouth if I didn’t… prepare.”

He stood up and kept his hand under you as he rutted into you, his free hand against the small of your back as he played with your bud and tilted his hips wildly. His voice mingled with your own but you were so dazed, you could only hear the squelching and slapping of your bodies.

“You’re mine,” he panted between thrusts, “aren’t you? Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m… yours…” you uttered, “sir...CAPTAIN!”

You shouted as he slowed and rolled his hips tauntingly. You raised your head and squeezed the straps of your restraints as you tried to bend your legs. Your body tensed and your back arched against your will. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you came at last.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned as you gushed around him, “fuck, you fit me perfect.”

You dropped your head and he pulled back to grip your hips, fucking you faster and harder. Your entire body ached as he railed into you. The bench quaked under you and you feared both you and the metal would break.

“All mine,” he buried himself entirely and held himself there, “sweetheart.”

He pulled out of you suddenly and you gulped at air as he came around you. He bent to unstrap your wrists and ankles. He lifted you off of the bench and you let him, too weak to stand on your own. He bent his knees and scooped you up, tossing your arms over his shoulder as he held you against him and entered you from below.

He nibbled your lip as he moved you up and down his length and you hugged him loosely. He walked around as if you weighed nothing and turned to lay you down on your back, staying inside you as he stood over the bench. He gripped your sides and rammed his hips against you as he held your ass just above the leather. Your reached up and clung to the bench above you and let your eyes roll back once more.

“Mmmm, don’t pass out on me now, sweetheart,” he grabbed your chin and forced two fingers into your mouth, “I’m not even close to finished with you.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #two shot #miniseries #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #desperate measures

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kiritella · 3 years

Text

Stunt Double

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Words: 4.6 k

Request: (@tom-hlover) Bucky X non avenger shy reader where reader is a new lab assistant and was a stuntwoman before and never stated it in her resume and surprised the team when she got in action when they were attacked in the tower. For the reader, if possible, introvert, short hair, the type who does not initiate conversations with strangers but when needed can speak in front of people (for presentations) and when you get to know the reader, she is quite bubbly and is comfortable in being weird?

Warnings: mentions of blood, shooting, stabbing (nothing too graphic), attack, mentions of death. IT IS MOSTLY FLUFF!!!

----

It was too quiet.

You cautiously stepped farther into the engineering lab as the unusual silence prolonged, “Tony?” No voice returned but your own as it echoed off the walls, but as you delved deeper into the room, the sight of Tony Stark hunched over his desk made you sigh a breath of relief. A snore broke the silence and Tony shuffled a little in his seat, but he remained lost to the conscious world. A soft smile coated your lips as you grabbed the blanket from off the back of one of the chairs and tossed it over his shoulders, allowing the man to get some severely needed sleep.

Tony had probably been in there the whole night, you presumed as you watched the morning routine of New York bustle in the streets below Stark Tower. The rising sun was casting a golden reflection on the newly snowed landscape, and the buildings were almost picturesque in the frozen atmosphere. Frost collected on the windows, and your breath fanned against the glass in a cloud, fogging up the image. With a sigh, you turned from the view, taking a sip of the hot coffee in your hands as you approached your workbench, setting your bag down beside your chair.

The computer system hummed to life as you switched on the device and soon a blue holosphere lit up around you, presenting a cascade of folders of your latest projects. Many of them had yet to reach completion, mostly just half-hearted specs when you were high on caffeine and sleep deprivation, but one day you would finish them. On your own time, most likely. Tony recently had you working on something of a bit more substance than what you usually do. There was something about this project that had you excited though. It was tiresome, and it had taken what seemed like an eternity, but it was nearly complete, and with it, it could change so much for the Avengers. It was exhilarating to have created something so powerful and meaningful, something that would have an impact. It was different from your last job, which didn’t give that spark of satisfaction when it was nearly complete. Working as an actor stunt-double had its admiration and qualities, but this, you felt, was where you belonged.

Opening the desk drawer, you pulled out a few bobby pins along with the holo-manipulator bracelets, and only after pinning your short hair back out of your eyes did you begin to work. Music played in your headphones as the morning grew later and within the hour, the lab doors opened once again to admit Bruce into the room. He chuckled as he passed Tony’s desk, the owner of whom was still sprawled out in a deep sleep, then nodded a good morning to you. With a soft smile, you whispered a cheerful good morning. It was still strange working with them, despite it having been several months now, and you weren’t sure if the high of being around them was going to leave any time soon. The high or the consequences.

Bruce was always kind enough, and Tony added a little personality to the lab, so it was never uninteresting, but there were also outside influences that made the job more difficult. Reporters, who you were always used to, shifted gears when you switched professions. Everyone wanted to know what the latest and greatest Stark technology was going to be, and people began to get more heated in their questions and methods. Things had gotten out of control more recently when the project you were currently working on got leaked to the public. It wasn’t the whole project, thankfully, however it was enough to cause some suspicion and enough eyes to turn in your direction that things began getting dangerous. Stark didn’t seem to mind too much until you were attacked getting into your apartment one night. After that, he became more cautious, offered for you to live in the Tower until the project was over and to help you find a new home after. Security was tightened, especially around the labs, and no one was allowed into the lower levels except authorized personnel. These were the things that came with the job, you supposed. Besides, it wasn’t like it was the worst thing in the world to be living in a multi-billion-dollar corporation in your own flat with a gym downstairs, completely free of rent, and with a five-minute journey to your workplace. Yeah, most certainly not the worst thing in the world.

---

You were about to resign yourself to a typical and uneventful lunch break consisting of eating at your work bench while pushing numbers for your project when Bucky barged in through the lab doors. His easy smile relaxed the tension in your posture and infected its way over to you.

“You look like shit,” Bucky said, tossing a bag of something smelling absolutely divine in front of you as he propped himself up on your desk, leaning over it with a teasing glimmer in his eyes. You laughed, a chuckle-snort sort of thing as you reclined back in your chair.

“Well, thank you. Should I take that as a complement?”

“No. You should take that as a ‘get the hell out of your office’,” he said, “And you’re in luck, because I brought lunch and we’re gonna eat it somewhere that is not here.”

You rolled your eyes, closing and locking up the holosphere and laptop. “Jerk.”

“Workaholic.”

“Workaholic,” you mocked in scrutiny, scrunching up your nose in defiance. “I am not a workaholic,” you pressed, snatching the food Bucky brought from off the desk as you followed him out the door. “I’ll have you know I slept five full hours last night.”

“Oh~~” Bucky teased with facade impressiveness, “Five whole hours. I slept nine.”

“Showoff.”

“Zombie.”

“I’m just so close to finishing the Achilles Heel project,” you said, laughing as you pressed for the elevator, scanning your ID on the screen. “Then I can sleep, and get my own place, and relax for a little while.”

“Oof, so ready to just escape this prison to be on your own huh?”

“Okay, maybe not too ready, I mean, there are some perks to being around more,” you said, nudging him in the side and he chuckled.

“Yeah, well I am decent company.”

“I was talking about the showers, but yeah, I guess you are a bonus too,” you teased, and Bucky gasped.

“Fine, I see how it is. I’ll just take this,” he said, grabbing the food bag from your hands as the elevator doors opened and he backed out onto the abandoned floor.

“Wait I—I didn’t mean that,” you said, jumping after him.

“Oh, no, I’m going to eat by myself now. Go on,” he said shewing you away as you came at him, trying to grab the food. “Go scurry back to your dreary little office and punch some numbers while stuffing your face with last night’s leftovers.”

“Bucky,” you whined through a laugh, “I’m sorry. You are most certainly a very big bonus to living at work.”

“Nope. You’re only here for the food,” he persisted, but his beaming smile broke through his act and held the food up above his head. You glared at him as you pushed closer to him, chests brushing up against each other as you reached up on your tippy toes trying to grab the bag.

“I. Am. Not.”

Bucky chuckled, wrapping his free arm around your waist as your balance began to waver, pulling you tighter against him as his lips brushed across your ear, “Really? Because it seems like that’s the only thing on your mind.”

Your body froze as you realized your proximity, his arm snug around your waist, his breath fanning against your ear and neck, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours. Slowly, your hand fell back down to his shoulder, fingers trailing to his chest as he angled up to meet your eyes. There was laughter in them, blissful freedom in the dip of his smile and damn, that was beautiful. To say you were in a romantic relationship would have been a slight misconception. The feelings were no secret, but you remained behind the line of friends, however as his eyes met yours, hardly a hair’s breadth apart, you began to wonder where that line was in all the haze.

“It’s not the only thing on my mind,” you whispered in a soft chuckle, a shy smile. Your heart flipped in your chest as his gaze flicked to your lips, hesitant and unsure, and heat tickled up your cheeks.

“Yeah? Had me fooled,” he said as he tilted closer, the brush of his nose along your cheek, and you remembered, friends don’t do this. But then again, when have either of you been wholy and truly just friends? His gravity pulled you in, the earth to his sun and a moth to his flame. It was a force of two strings being tied together, red scarlet between your chests, binding you to each other. It wound tighter as you sought each other, but as his lips barely brushed your own, Bucky’s phone blared in the empty hallway and the string snapped. Your eyes shot open as you both jerked in surprise, pulling back, but remaining frozen in time, staring, and searching. His gaze held an ounce of disappointment as he slowly released his grip around your waist. His eyes followed you even when you could no longer bear their intensity, the fire burning in them reaching out to consume you. Turning aside as he answered his phone, you grabbed the food from his hand, motioning to the office you usually ate in and he nodded.

When the door shut behind you, you gasped for breath to steady your raging, wild heart, steadying yourself onto the sheet-covered couch. A soft laugh bubbled from your chest as you replayed the moment over and over, your fingers pressed to your lips to conceal the smile breaking through, but it still insisted on being seen. As emotions swirled in you, you began to unload the bag Bucky brought, pulling out buckets of Chinese food and set them on the table.

“That was Sam,” Bucky started quietly as he entered the room. “He got a lead on the extremist group I was telling you about…”

You nodded, but when he didn’t move from his spot at the door, you rolled your eyes, waving him over to sit beside you. “Get over here so we can eat before it gets cold,” you said, a teasing glimmer in your tone, and a smile peaking on your lips. A sigh left him, relieving the pressure in his lungs no doubt as he came and sat beside you, picking up a box of orange chicken.

“What’s the lead?”

“Just an informant…It looks a little shady, but it’s all we’ve gotten in a while, so we don’t want to risk leaving it alone.”

“When are you heading out?”

“Tomorrow evening. Apparently, the guy doesn’t want to risk being seen in the daylight or in town, so he’s meeting us just outside the city after dark.”

“It certainly sounds weird,” you chuckled, but then silence overtook the room, creeping in from the cracks of unspoken words and pushing as the tension thickened. And when the pressure rose, it crushed your heart, and so you spoke, “Hey, Buck?” and still, you froze again, but he understood the question in the air, in your eyes that refused to meet his. Bucky’s fingers reached across the little space between you, taking your hand into his own and brought them to his lips, caressing them with a kiss.

A sigh escaped you as you relaxed. His hand released yours and wrapped around your shoulders, encouraging you to lean back into the couch and rest your head against him. As you fell into his embrace, the tension eased.

A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead before he spoke, “We both saw this coming for a while now…”

“Yeah, well…I guess we never really were just friends. There was always something else.”

Bucky snorted, “Like when you were drunk and told me one day you were going to jump my—”

You screeched, shoving your hand over his face, “Why did you bring that up?! You were not supposed to bring that up ever,” you shouted, slapping his chest as he laughed, “I finally burned that from my memory!”

“I didn’t realize you were such a lightweight,” he laughed.

“I don’t drink that often, so of course I’m a lightweight.”

Bucky could only shake his head, press a kiss to your temple, and pull you closer. “How about when I get back from the job, finish all the paperwork and shit, the next night I’ll take you out?” he mused, “A proper date, just the two of us—”

“I’d hope it’s just us,” you joked and he laughed, knocking you in the shoulder with his knuckles.

“Shhh, don’t interrupt, I’m trying to be sweet.”

“Oh okay, please continue…”

“Just the two of us somewhere nice, but not too quiet so we don’t get awkward, and we can talk about everything…”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, craning your chin up to meet his eyes and smiled.

~~~

There was something in the air the next evening. It was thick enough to choke you, and the shadows lingered on the walls a little too long only to be cast away sharply. The moon reflected off the pale white walls in the eerie silence and cast a frozen-like nature around the room. You should have gone up to your apartment hours ago, but with the inspiration and drive to finish your project, sleep evaded you. Besides, the coffee helped.

Music streamed from the speakers, but it wasn’t enough to drive out the anxiety welling in your stomach. Since the attack at your apartment, being alone had bothered you, left an uncomfortable feeling crawling on your skin and it didn’t seem to want to leave. Instead, the anxiety built up until you were jumping at every noise, every shift of the shadows in the room. Bucky’s presence or voice had always helped, but he was still out with Sam checking in on the extremist group informant.

When you first heard the popping, you were certain it was your mind playing tricks on you. It wasn’t until they got much louder did you pause the music.

“Tony?” You called out, “Bruce?” You thought they had gone home for the night. Pepper had dragged Tony out about two hours ago, and Bruce had dinner plans with Natasha so he left early to get ready. There shouldn’t have been anyone but the night shift there, but as a high pitch scream echoed and the laboratory's glass wall shattered, realization hit you ten fold. You hit the floor as you dropped, a scream dying on your lips as you scrambled to get under your desk. People marched into the room, several by the sound of the boots on the crushed glass.

“Secure,” a voice said, feminine and cold.

“Find Achilles Heel, then wipe the system. You’ve got six minutes before the security system comes back online.”

You shook under your desk, heart beating erratically, the holosphere containing your Achilles Heel program right above you, and if you could just—

A loud crash of tools had you jumping out of your skin and your head rammed into the top of your desk, and you froze just like the rest of the room. The silence echoed, and you swore your breathing was too loud, your heartbeat bouncing off the walls as loud as a train. A few words, then footsteps approached, glass crunching under their feet until their boots were directly in front of you. Your teeth dug into your lip as you fumbled the pocketknife from your pocket, only a second to spare as the person reached under the desk and seized your ankle. A sharp yank and you were pulled out with a scream, but the smirk on the woman’s face sunk as you barreled the knife into the back of her foot, straight for her Achilles tendon. As she began to drop, you twisted your hips, braced your leg up and kicked her throat. Not what you were aiming for, but that works.

She collapsed to the ground, choking and gasping for air, but more footsteps pounded toward you and when you looked out from the side of the desk, two men appeared and you were staring down the barrel of a gun. Instinct took over and you knocked the handgun from your face, grasping his wrist, spinning as you stood until his arm was twisted backward and using your back for the brace, rolled him over your shoulder. A distinct pop told of his displaced arm. Or a broken one, you weren’t sure.

A gun went off, and you jumped out of your skin as the breeze of the bullet swept across your cheek. Screeching as the soldier grabbed your arm, cursing an absurd vocabulary list at you, the palm of your hand shot to his nose, and to put it lightly, his list of obscenities increased dramatically.

“Son of a Bitch,” he shouted as blood trickled out of his broken nose, tears forming in the edges of his eyes as they began to water.

“So I’ve been told,” you said as you struck his throat and he began to choke, but as you delivered the final blow to a place the sun didn't shine very often, the cock of another gun set you frozen in place. Across the room, the last soldier stood with a semi-automatic, a bullet with your name ready in the chamber and your breathing stopped.

“We only came for your program, Y.n,” the man sneered, “But I’ve really got a mind to put you six feet under now.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that was peaking on your lips, though you couldn’t even begin to fathom its reason for existing. “What do you want it for?”

The man chuckled, “Who wouldn’t want a program that could tell them the weakness in any building? Given the right specifications of course.”

You shook your head, an idea sparked, but the warmth of the trails of blood on your fingers made you sick. The sound of the man’s shoulder popping out of place from earlier is ingrained in your ears. The feeling of crushing someone’s windpipe, breaking their nose is still searing your skin. It was agonizing.

“Where’s Achilles heel?” he asked, his patience for your antics ran out, and he raised his gun, aim centered on your chest. You turned back to your desk, your hands trembling as the little holosphere sat daintily there on the wood. Your projects, your life, everything you’ve worked for in the last several months. It held your secrets, your future, everything you were striving to create, all right there in that little damned box. Reaching for it, it was heavier than you remembered. You supposed it was the consequences that was weighing it down. Or maybe it was your life.

The woman from earlier was out cold on the floor, but her gun was still at her feet. As your breath shook, you gripped the sphere in your hands and turned back to the last man standing. You waved it in the air, and he laughed.

“Thank you. You’ve been of great service,” he said, lifting his gun and as he pulled the trigger, you dropped to the floor, hands scrambling for the woman’s gun and as the man cursed, he ran for you. The second he came into view, you fired. The jerk of the gun burned your wrists, and something snapped, but you shot again, and the look of pure surprise on his face was enough to make you puke. He fell to his knees and onto his side, blood seeping from his shoulder and stomach. Your hands trembled as you scampered back, bile on your tongue as you watched in horror.

The sound of your name died in the echo of the room, the panic in the voice, the rushing feet and the sound of glass being crushed. Everything faded out except for the man in front of you and the fear etching into his eyes. You were paralyzed to watch. When another hand gripped your shoulder from behind, you screamed, tossing your hands back and clawing and scratching at their face until both your arms were seized and you were forced to see your attacker.

Bucky sat there, his hands holding your arms as his eyes searched you wildly, and you stilled. Your breaths were ragged and sharp, but his cerulean blue eyes were much softer than you remembered, but that could have been the tears welling in the corners. His lips moved as he spoke, but no sounds hit your ears. Everything was drowned in a ringing ocean of nothing, but when he pulled you against his chest and lifted you up, faded whispers broke through.

“You’re gonna be okay...I’ve got you...It’s alright…” It was all chopped and scattered, but it was still his voice. It was James. The lights faded in and out as he carried you out of the room and down the hall. Your vision blurred, but even in your disorientation, you saw them. A night guard sat motionless on the floor, another further down, and eventually you couldn’t bear to watch and hid yourself in James's neck. The next thing you saw was the med bay as Bucky placed you on one of the beds and a doctor came rushing over. The look of pure fear in Bucky’s eyes as you remained motionless on the bed struck straight to your heart before everything went dark.

~~~

When you woke, Bucky sat on the edge of your hospital bed, your hand in his as he traced gentle patterns into your palm. “James?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped to yours, and a smile broke through, “Hey sleepy head. How’re you feeling?”

“A little weird, but okay,” you mumbled as you say up with Bucky’s help. It took a moment before everything came flooding back to you, and the blood drained from your face. “H-how long was I out?”

“Just a little less than an hour. The shock pulled you under,” he said. In a moment of silence, his fingers traced your cheek, curving along your skin until he cupped your face. His breath shook as he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead, then another kiss to your temple, another to your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, your hands raising to hold his. Your wrist was bandaged with gauze, and it hurt to move, but still, you melted in his touch. His lips brushed against yours, tantalizing and soft, a peck, a promise, a future held with the love in his chest, shown with his lips upon yours. I love you. I'm glad you're safe. You scared me. I love you. Unspoken words were passed from his lips and seared onto yours with a single peck, and it made you realize just how infinite he was.

“When we got here and the lab was broken into, I —” he said, pressing his forehead to yours, but his voice cracked and you softened.

“I’m alright,” you whispered, “I think, anyway,” you added with a soft chuckle.

“Doctor gave you a clean bill of health for the most part,” he said, pulling back. “Fractured wrist, small cut on your cheek, a little bruising. Nothing too bad.”

You nodded, but a rock dropped in your stomach when you recalled the events. “The man I shot…” you whispered, “Is—is he…?”

“He’s alive,” Bucky said, a sneer in his voice as he held your hands, “They all are.”

You sighed in relief. A life on your head wasn’t a weight you were sure you could bear. However, as Bucky began to speak, the door opened and in came Tony, Bruce with Nat, and followed by Sam.

“Since when can you fight?” Tony asked, a light smile in his voice after he saw that you were okay. “I don’t remember martial arts being one of your talents,” he joked, holding a tablet with the camera footage of the lab.

You shrugged, a smile peaking on your lips, “I was an actress before I came here. Stunt-double for some action movies. I had some training.”

Sam perked up, “What?! An actress?”

You laughed at his confusion and awe, “Yes.”

“That was not on your resume,” Tony added.

“I wanted to be taken seriously!” you defended, “I figured it wasn’t important to add acting to a resume I was sending to Stark Industries.”

“Okay, fair, but look at this,” Tony said, holding the tablet for you and Bucky to see the video.

Bucky hesitated, turning it from you, “I don’t think that’s—”

“No, I wanna see, it’s alright,” you said, and Bucky played the video. It shocked you to watch it over again, the scene unfolding from a safe distance and with people you trusted. What took you by surprise though, was how the entire event unfolded in a matter of a few minutes. You were swift on camera, quick and unflinching, completely unlike what you felt in the moment. It had lasted an eternity then, fear capturing every muscle and resisting every movement.

“I mean look at that,” Tony praised as you took down the third guy. You pushed the tablet away before you got to the last part, and the others said nothing to oppose. The video was stopped and the others teased you.

“I thought you were just brains, but damn,” Sam said, “You’ve got tricks up your sleeves.”

“Didn’t feel like it in the moment,” you chuckled shyly, and Nat stepped up.

“It never does, not in situations like that. But running on pure instinct with what you knew, that was pretty awesome. We’re all just glad you’re okay though.”

You smiled and the others relaxed on their praise and asked for your condition. Bucky answered with ease as you relaxed back in your bed. The questions all seemed endless, but eventually, they all left to let you rest, and with a clear from the doctor, Bucky walked you back to your apartment upstairs.

“So, an actress, huh?” Bucky said and you laughed.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing your short hair in the mirror above your dresser as Bucky sat on your bed, watching from a distance. “I doubled down in homework while I went to college. It was an accident really. A promotion here, a YouTube video there, next thing you know I’ve got a call and I was on stage performing. I never quit school though.”

“You’re just one wild mystery,” he smiled and you walked over to the bed and sat beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Intriguing, I hope.”

“Always,” he said.

A heavy silence filled the room, and you sank further against him. His fingers brushed along your hand as he took it to rest on his thigh. “I’m gonna teach you some more offensive attacks though. I can’t...” he said and his breathing wavered slightly, “I can’t go through that again.”

You nodded, nuzzling his shoulder, sighing heavily. “Could you—could you stay with me tonight? It can be just until I fall asleep, but I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, turning to kiss the top of your head.

“Promise?”

“Always.”

———————————

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Caffeine Rush: Chapter Six / Frappe

W/C: 2.9k

Warnings: language, kissing, pining lol. this is pretty fluffy before things become... decidedly unfluffy! oh Javi’s got dirty thoughts here too

A/N: HI! Thank you thank you @sanchosammy for the idea for this date :) and thank you to my pals for editing and reading for me!!

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

iced beverage that has been shaken, blended or beaten. It is served cold, often with whipped cream and toppings.

Javier is not a man extremely accustomed to cold temperatures. Most of his life has been spent in Laredo, Texas, or Colombia, both places known for their heat. Snow is a luxury, something to get excited about. Meanwhile, in D.C., the slushy cold is all too common and annoying.

The falling snow enchants Javier. You’ve noticed this, watched the way his eyes glimmer as the dense flakes drift from the clouds to land on your head or jacket or his own hands. He brings his dark jacket sleeve close to his face to admire the unique little crystals, only to melt it with his warm breath seconds later. Javier is a stoic man, generally stone-faced and tense. The little wonder behind his eyes melts your heart.

You told him you loved him two days ago, when you sped away from that fancy bar Javier would never return to again. You meant it, you think. You look at the man and it makes your heart race, makes you melt just like a snowflake under his warmth. You love him.

You’ve always been quick to fall in love. It’s never taken long, but it’s never happened so quickly. You suppose the process was helped along by the many hours of close proximity. It reminds you of one term you’d studied so hard in Psych 101- the mere exposure effect. It’s a simple concept, one you’ve seen mirrored many times in your life and are now living: the more one is exposed to a certain stimulus (in this case, Javier), the more you like it. It’s that easy. Human beings love familiarity, and something about Javi simply feels like you’ve known him your whole life.

Javier leans against your windowsill, staring through the frosted glass. Your plants look shrunken, the cold radiating from the glass into their roots. You’ll have to change that pretty soon, but now you just admire him.

As always, his mustache is neatly trimmed. His hair is a little messy, slept in and wavy. He wears a t-shirt and jeans, slung low over his hips without a belt. You sit on your couch, curled into the corner with a blanket draped across your lap. Your head rests on the arm of the sofa as you watch him, watching the snow.

He turns and looks at you after a few moments. You smile and close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of your radiator and the blanket. He takes his turn to admire you, the way you watch him with such adoration. Between the snow and your love, he never wants to go back to Colombia. He doesn’t want to go back to the loneliness, to the endless beat downs his health and brain take from hours upon hours of work. He wants this, but this isn’t him. This isn’t who Javier Peña is, is it?

He’s a new man. He’s starting over, new job, new love life, he reminds himself. He comes and sits next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your temple. He can be whoever he wants, and what he wants most to become is the man you see in him. He wants to be something you love, something for you to be proud of. He wants to be better for you.

You lean against him, and he wraps both arms around you. His chest is warm and steady beneath your head, and you sigh and cuddle in closer. “Do you like the weather up here?” You ask him quietly, knowing the answer.

“I’m always hot,” he admits. “It’s nice to feel cooled down for once.”

Smiling at that, you pull your knees into your chest and fully relax against him. “I don’t want you to leave, Javi. I don’t want you to leave me.”

“We’ve got plenty of time, abejita,” he murmurs and nuzzles his face into your hair. “Three weeks or so left. Enjoy what we have now, right?”

You sigh. You’ve always been a planner, laying out the foreseeable future so that you can have something in mind, goals. Javier certainly threw a wrench in them- you didn’t expect to have someone to spend your time with, someone to be completely infatuated by. And you can’t plan what will happen when he goes back to Colombia. Will he want to put up with a long distance relationship? He’s told you about his past; he rarely went a week or less without fucking a prostitute or informant. He certainly wouldn’t want another problem on his schedule, making time for long-distance dates. And it’s a permanent job, isn’t it? He’s not coming back on a schedule. There’s too much in your head, too much fear, and it makes you bury your face into his chest. “What’s wrong?” He asks, stroking your back.

“I just… want you in my life.” You murmur, nudging your nose into his neck. “Whatever it’ll take.”

“We have time to figure that out,” he reminds you, and you sigh and give a soft nod. You just snuggle in closer and hope that his warmth and affection will take away your worries. “I do like the weather here,” he muses as he looks out at the frosty glass. “I never got snow growing up. Never in Colombia either. It’s a special thing.”

Lifting your head to look out the window, you pull the blanket tighter and rest your head on Javier’s shoulder. “I have an idea for what we can do tonight, since you like the cold.”

“Hit me.”

Balance is not an essential skill as a DEA agent, and therefore, Javier doesn’t have much of it. He wobbles nervously as he steps along, the blades of the ice skates holding up his feet.

“You got it,” you laugh, walking along as the blade covers press into the ground. “It’s just like wearing heels.”

“I don’t do that,” he reminds you with a frown, trying to make his way to the ice rink a few feet away.

Giggling at the way he stumbles along, you remove the guards and step onto the ice. The glide beneath your feet is familiar. You’re good on the ice, somewhat skilled at it. You do a little spin in a circle, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. “Come on. You’ll be- no, stop,” you laugh as he tries to step on the ice with the guards on his skates. “Take those off.”

Javier balances against the edge of the rink as he removes them, leaving them on a pile of them nearby. He wobbles through the entrance of the rink, finally standing on the ice. His long legs knock together and quiver at the balance. “Good,” you smile at him. “Come skate to me.”

You’re a few yards away from him, and he continues to frown, trying to take a step forward- a rookie mistake- and slipping as he puts his skate down. He catches himself on the guard rail, cursing loudly.

It’s late at night; you’re the only ones on the outdoor rink. You’re not ashamed as your laugh rings out into the dark, the floodlights illuminating the sheet of ice. “Oh my God, you really are a beginner,” you laugh, pushing off and into a peaceful glide around the oblong shape.

“No shit,” he calls out to you, standing up straight again with both hands on the edge of the rink. “This isn’t exactly my wheelhouse.”

When you stop next to him, a cascade of snow flying out from beneath your blades, you take his hand in his. “Alright. One hand on me, one hand on the rink,” you tell him, daring to push forward just slowly enough for him to have time to react.

He pushes off, mimicking what he saw you do earlier, and the two of you glide along for a moment. “There we go, now push again, a little harder,” you tell him, and you both push along in sync, sending you floating across the ice. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m concentrating,” Javier grumbles. How the hell did you rope him into this? When you’d suggested something outdoors for tonight, he’d wholeheartedly agreed, eager to spend some time in the cold. This, however, a physical activity that doesn’t end with a gunshot or an orgasm, is not something he’s used to.

You kiss his cheek and his frown lightens, instead falling into a neutral expression of focus. His eyes stay on the ice, and you cup his chin in your hand to lift his head. “Look ahead, not down. You’ll keep tripping if you keep looking down.”

He nods at your orders, trying to focus on the boards around the rink as they approach. His legs remain shaky, but he’s doing well. “There you go,” you grin at him, letting go of his hand. With the other on the boards, he does a good job, and in hardly any time, you’ve made a full lap of the rink. You stop and he does his best to do so, though he nearly flies over. Smiling, you take his face in your hands and kiss him gently. “If you don’t like this, we can be done,” you remind him as you break away, keeping your face close to his.

Javier smiles softly at you, just enough to show the little dimple in his cheek. “I’m going to figure out how to do this if it kills me.”

“It might,” you tease, patting the ass he’s already fallen on several times. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow,” you laugh and Javier kisses you again, one hand steadying himself on the wooden boards.

Breaking away, he kisses the tip of your freezing nose before leaning back. “I learn best by watching. Why don’t you just… do a couple of laps?” He asks.

You nod and skate backwards away from him. “Sure.” You hug your jacket tight around your body as you glide across the ice, doing a few little twirls and loops. The breeze is cold, even on your legging-covered shins.

You’re graceful on the ice, the opposite of Javier. He gives a half-smile as he watches you, admiring your grace. Those damn leggings cup your ass, showing the curve and the way it moves. God, he’s always noticed you for your beauty, but this is something else.

The bulky winter coat covers your torso, but your expression is so peaceful and free as you move, your momentum pushing your hair back as wind seems to curl around you. You look astonishing. Javier wishes he brought his camera with to capture this.

“Did you tell me to do this just to stare at my ass?” You tease from across the rink, skating forwards and looking over your shoulder at him.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

You laugh and cut across the rink, no longer circling the perimeter but taking the quickest route to him. “Not in the slightest,” you laugh and kiss him again. His lips are addictive, making you crave his kisses more and more the longer you go in between them. “Okay, come on, hot-shot,” you say and take his hands, pulling him out onto the ice.

Dropping your hands, Javier’s arms stick out parallel to the ground, wobbling and trying to balance. He pushes a little, remembering your advice and looking up, and sighs as he lets himself slide across the ice, his feet unintentionally pointing in then out then in again. “Look at you!” You laugh proudly, skating next to his side.

When you’re next to him, Javier takes your hand and chuckles a little in amazement at the movement. It’s like riding in a car with the windows down, the air rushing past. Your hand feels warm, even despite the cold air, and it anchors him as he picks up speed and the two of you fall into a steady rhythm.

He even dares to try skating backwards at one point. He succeeds for a moment, earning an astonished laugh from you, but it ends as one would expect: on his ass. You help him up and kiss his cheek. “Want me to kiss it better?” you flirt, smiling jokingly at him.

“Mm, I’ll pass,” he shakes his head then kisses you on the lips, his hands finding your waist. The two of you stop in the middle of the rink, kissing slowly under the bright lights of the rink.

Javier leans in a little, desperate for more, but he rocks too far forward on his skates. “Fuck, fuck!” he shouts as he loses his balance and falls forward, taking you down with him as he falls onto his knees.

“Javi!” you squeal as you fall backwards, landing on your ass this time. “Goddamnit,” you laugh as you look at him, his palms pressed to the ice on either side of you in an attempt to break his fall but not to land on you. He hovers over your body, and you can’t stop giggling with the adrenaline of the moment.

Javier’s laughing too, a genuine laugh that puts lines in his face. Such genuine laughter is rare for such a serious man, and you feel warm inside with the honor that comes along with bringing that joy to him. “You know, I do, I think so.” He looks at you in confusion. “I really do love you, Javi,” you have no choice but to admit.

He doesn’t respond. He can’t. He can’t bring himself to say it back, even if he knows deep in his heart that he would mean it if he said it. He does love you, but there’s a lump in his throat that refuses to budge.

Just a second before the silence would become awkward, he brings his face to yours and kisses you, slowly. It’s sweet and longing and he forces his emotions through it, transmits them through his lips and into yours. I love you too, abejita. Really. I just… can’t say it.

It’s alright. You can tell from the way that he kisses you that this is his way of saying it back, that he feels the same flutter in his heart when your fingers lace through each others’, when he wraps his arms around you and his arms flex tight to pull you as close as he physically can.

You stay like that for a moment, kissing, Javier hovering over you on the ice. It doesn’t last too long before you break away. “Not to ruin the moment, but this is deep-freezing my ass,” you admit with a chuckle. You get up and help him up, and the two of you take one more lap around the rink before getting off the ice.

The drive home is filled with comfortable silence, Javier driving with one hand on your thigh. He knows his way to your place by now. You don’t even have to direct him. You park on the street then walk into your apartment with him, appreciating the warmth of the building.

The little nightly routine you’ve assumed works itself out. You both get into your pajamas, readying yourself for sleep. Javier’s spent two nights on the couch and he’s fully prepared for a third when you stop him in the doorway to the bathroom, a hand flat against his chest. “Sleep with me tonight, Javi. Please.”

He’s spent the entire night admiring your ass. If you sleep in the same bed, he won’t be able to take it any longer. He shakes his head. “It’s for the best that I sleep on the couch, bee.”

The words make you frown, but the nickname makes your heart tingle. He translates it from abejita to little bee when he’s lazy, and shortens it from little bee to just bee when he’s tired. Well, you suppose you’ve worn him out tonight with the ice skating. “Please,” you beg of him, fingers finding their way to the muscle protecting his heart. “Can we at least snuggle?”

Javier sighs but gives you a tired little smile. “How can I say no to that?”

You find your way to the couch together. It starts with you both sitting up, your head resting against Javier’s shoulder as you watch the late show on the TV. As you both grow more tired, Javier begins to slump to the side, and you follow him down, fully leaning against him. Then more and more until Javier lies down on his back and pulls you on top of him.

“Mm. You’re comfy,” you hum as you lie on him, head in the curve of his neck. His skin radiates warmth, and he pulls the blanket over the two of you, too sleepy to comment back. He just kisses your temple and watches the TV with half-open eyes.

A few minutes later, his breathing slows, and you can feel his breathing switch from his nose to his mouth, his warm breath on the top of your head. He’s fallen asleep. You smile as you nuzzle in closer. The couch isn’t ideal, but you’ll take any chance you can get to fall asleep with Javier.

The late show drones on in the background, then changes to infomercials that run the course of the night. Neither of you are awake to see it, too deep in a perfect sleep, nestled in each other’s arms, Javier using you as his blanket and you using him as your pillow.

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writerpeach · 3 years

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Club Mimosa - [Ch. 6] Dangerous

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

There was a lot to love about Tokyo’s winter season.

Barren trees swayed after being kissed by frost after the season’s first snowfall, making the entire city more beautiful as ever. The ground beneath your feet looked pristine as a thin soft white sheet blanketed the streets.

Tokyo looked and felt like an entirely new city during winter.

Perhaps your favorite part was the reduced crowds. Taking a subway to anywhere within city limits no longer felt like you were fighting for air to breathe with a hundred different strangers.

You loved the way the cool crisp air felt on your skin every time you left your apartment and the way you could visibly see your breath lingering in the air.

Winter was your favorite season, you anticipated it more each year since you could take public transportation and easily enjoyed it without worrying. Cold temperatures were your companion, and you welcomed the season with open arms.

The season also marked your third year living in Japan.

Culture shock became less of a shock and something you grew accustomed to. There was hardly any food you couldn’t eat without trouble. You had tried all sorts of delicacies that would have been seen as “weird” back in the west, and while you didn’t enjoy them all you never regretted experiencing them all.

Your favorite thing about Tokyo outside of its attractive women, delicious food, and incredible culture was the club that had become your second home. Club Mimosa was your favorite place to spend both your free time and money. Your name was known throughout the establishment from flirty hostesses to managers, to the sexy ladies behind the bar serving stiff drinks.

But there was still one person that hadn’t managed to meet you yet.

Minatozaki Sana.

Momo painted a vivid picture of her, but you hadn’t seen her in the club. You didn’t know what she looked like, what she acted like, you knew nothing but what Momo had described.

You got updates sent from Momo every couple of days, letting you know how things were progressing. Slowly, it seemed, which wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t easy, even with years of experience under her belt there were a plethora of things unaccounted for, hostesses to train, management to find, equipment to gather. Even with a small team helping her there was a lot to do. Momo was going to be staying in Kyoto for quite a while it seemed.

Japan was a relatively small country comparatively, but even on a one-way trip on a bullet train, you were looking at over two hours, which was hard to justify even to see such a beautiful woman as Momo. You kept in contact over the phone and video chat, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss those late nights with her, screaming each other’s names so loud you were afraid the neighbors were going to knock at her door.

That’s where Club Mimosa came in.

You had needs. Everyone had needs, and if those needs were talking to gorgeous women in expensive tight dresses for hours on end, well then, those needs were easily satisfied.

Those needs were harder without Momo there, sitting inches away from you, close enough to smell her perfume while she sipped on her drink and munched on whatever meat was on the menu.

You had spent time away from the club, feeling the distance away from Momo more than you thought you would. But if you trusted anyone to offer a suitable replacement it would be one Hirai Momo.

It all felt familiar to you as you stepped off the subway and walked into the snow-covered streets of Tokyo, feeling less smothered by the crowds thankfully. You could see the bright lights a mile away as if it’s neon lights were calling for you personally.

You entered the club and the first thing you noticed was everything seemed louder. You were surrounded by familiar faces and sounds and an atmosphere that could only be described as alive.

“Welcome back to Club Mimosa, sir!”

You didn’t know how you felt about being a regular in a place where you were liable to spend way too much money in one night, but there were worse problems to have.

“Do you have anyone specific you'd like to request? Or would you like us to find someone for you, sir?”

You hesitated before making your choice of words carefully.

“I’d like to request Minatozaki Sana,” you said. The manager looked at you like you’d just summoned something unstoppable.

“I”m sorry, sir, but she is no longer an active-”

“It’s fine, I’ve been expecting him.”

You didn’t know where the voice came from, but her words were like honey slowly dripping out of a bottle, every syllable full of seduction.

Stepping out of the shadows was the owner of said voice, a stunning young woman who took your breath away at first sight. Her hair was blonde, her legs were long, and her curves were deadly. Minatozaki Sana was an absolutely perfect woman. Her dress was tighter and shorter than anything Momo ever wore, as if she wanted to show her up now that she wasn’t here.

Momo saying she had a body to die for was putting it lightly and didn't do her justice.

“About time you showed up,” she giggled, placing her hands on her hips. “Momo has told me a lot about you.”

“Hopefully not too much, Miss Minatozaki,” you replied.

“Oh, you can just call me Sana, I’m sure Momo has her secrets. A woman never tells everything. Now, where should we take you? A normal booth won’t do, and you’ve already defiled - I mean visited our VIP booth…”

It was hard to find a response to that as your cheeks reddened.

“Yuki-chan!” Sana called over.

“Yes, Minatozaki-San?”

“Are the karaoke rooms occupied?”

“No, they haven’t been used all day. They were just freshened up this morning.”

“Perfect, thank you, Yuki-chan. Now, if you’ll follow me…”

When Sana asked you to follow her you didn't dare refuse, as she led you down a separate hallway you'd never seen before, her fill hips swaying with every step.

"After you," Sana said as she held the door open, leading you into one of the few rooms in the place you hadn't been in before.

Red couches lined the walls of the large karaoke room, spacious enough to accommodate several people. The focus of the room was the big mounted screen centered between two dark marble tables, large speakers, colorful lighting filled the room.

"Usually these rooms are used for multiple clients wanting more than one hostess, but I'll have you all to myself in here," Sana said flirtatiously, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"So, what does Momo's favorite client like to drink?" Sana asked as she sat down to your right, flashing a hint of a mischievous smile.

“Favorite?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, she hasn’t specifically said that, but I could see it in the way she talks about you,” Sana replied, biting the tip of her finger.

“And what does Momo say about me?”

“It’s not polite to ask a lady to reveal her secrets,” Sana teased, scooting closer to your body.

“But she does say you’re cute and charming, and that you have a nice body. I can certainly vouch for the first two, but the third, I’m not quite sure yet.”

There was a lot you could tell just from a person’s smile, and Sana’s smile was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. You could tell Sana wasn’t like the other hostesses, as cliche as that might be to say. While she had an immeasurable amount of sex appeal, there was an equal amount of cuteness mixed in that swirled together to create one incredible package of a woman.

“I think I’m okay with water for now,” you told Sana nonchalantly. This was your first meeting and you didn’t want to overdo it, surprised at how comfortable you felt around her already, not a hint of nerves.

“Water it is,” she replied as she got up and fetched two bottles of water out of a nearby glass cooler that you had somehow completely missed.

“Oh. I could have just gotten it myself,” you said with a hint of embarrassment.

Sana sat back down and shook her head as she handed you a bottle, grasping the other in her small hands.

“It’s my job to take care of you,” Sana said as she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, carefully letting water pour out without letting the bottle touch her lips. Even drinking water Sana looked incredibly sexy, although you sensed she was doing this on purpose.

The one thing you quickly realized about Sana was her vast experience. While Momo had confidence in her veins, she had her rare moments of awkwardness or when she suddenly turned nervous and stumbled over her words after something had been said.

But Sana, you could tell she had been doing this for more than just a few years. While you’d become a regular at the club, you felt at times you needed to pick your words carefully during a conversation, while Sana’s words flowed out of her lips automatically.

“So, Sana. Since you know a lot about me, tell me about yourself,” you said after a moment's pause. You were still so awkward with meeting new women, but you didn’t want this to come off as an interview. Sana could sense your own awkwardness, but her gaze calmed you down.

“Hm, where to start,” Sana said, running a hand through her silky golden locks.

“This is my sixth year as a hostess here. Although I’m not really a hostess anymore, I mostly train new girls and help run the place,” Sana said, keeping her gaze towards you.

“Sounds like you’ve put in a lot of work.”

“I have. We had a rough patch this year, but we made it through. I’ve been here since the beginning when we only had two hostesses besides me. Back then we struggled to get five customers a week, barely making enough money to keep the lights on. I ate a lot of ramen that first year.”

“And now look at this place. You’re the most popular club in Tokyo, and you’re opening a second location. You must be swimming in money.”

Sana smiled shyly. “I have Momo to thank for that. She volunteered to help run it, at least until everything is running smoothly. I miss her.”

“I do too,” you said, the words came out of your mouth before you had realized what you were saying.

“She told me you recruited her to come here?” you asked.

“That’s right. We met at university. We had different majors but ended up seeing each other almost every day. She needed extra money for tuition and I was already working here at the time, so I suggested she join me and put in a good word.”

“The rest is history as they say.”

“It is. God, she was so shy back then, she could barely look a man in the eyes. She spilled a drink her first shift and she was so clumsy for the first month. She almost quit the first week, but I convinced her to stay. And now she’s the most popular and requested girl.”

“That’s quite a success story.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less out of our Momo.”

Sharing glances with Sana you fumbled for words to say to break the awkward silence.

“Just talk to me like you’ve talked to Momo,” she said, and you abruptly felt her hand rubbing your thigh as she maintained eye contact.

“I don’t bite,” Sana said with a grin on her lips. “Unless you want me to.”

You didn’t know if you felt more at ease or more nervous, but her smile convinced you it was the former.

“I’ve instructed everyone to leave us alone unless called for,” she said, her smile turning into a smirk.

“Momo left you all to myself to play with, and I don’t want any interruptions.”

“Play with?” you repeated.

“Yes,” she replied with a flirtatious giggle, running her delicate fingers through strands of her hair again. Sana’s ways of flirting were about as subtle as a trainwreck, but you didn’t mind her methods.

“You know, for a karaoke room we’re not doing much singing,” you said, changing the subject.

“You’re absolutely right,” Sana said, leaning forward to grab the heavy book on the table, flipping through it.

“What do you want to sing?” Sana asked.

“Me? I’m not much of a singer, you should choose,” you said, deflecting the choice. You were terrified by the thought of sharing a stage with a beautiful woman, you didn’t dare display your terrible lack of singing prowess.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what to pick,” Sana said, flipping through several pages at a time.

“Then just sing your favorite song,” you replied. Sana paused, thinking about what she wanted for a moment.

“I don’t really have a favorite song,” she said, shaking her head as you furrowed an eyebrow.

“Everyone has a favorite song. Maybe something you’ve heard here a lot?”

“I hear a lot of songs here. There was this really cute song that I always sang during the first year I started here…” Sana said as she tilted her head, fingers fumbling through pages.

“Ah, here it is!” Sana said with excitement, her eyes widening as she keyed in numbers into the giant remote. The monitor in front lit up in response, flashing a white screen as the song started playing on the giant display. Sana stood with both hands on the mic, anticipating the start of the music.

The first notes were cheerful and bright as Sana sang along to every note of the bubblegum pop song, still remembering every lyric as if the song were personally her own. You had recognized the song, perhaps heard it during your time in the country in a mall or on tv. It was the perfect karaoke song, catchy and fun, and easy to sing.

Her duality here was something else. She even seemed to know all the choreography, all though it was rather simple. Her arms and legs moved in time with the rhythm and you were amazed at her still being able to dance without missing a step with such high heels on. With such full movements, singing such a cute song while wearing a tight dress that was designated to arouse was such a striking contrast.

Sana was most enthusiastic during the chorus.

“Fly so high, follow me, follow me, follow me, follow me, baaaby,” Sana sang along happily, a smile etched across her face as she used exaggerated movements and mimicked what she saw on the screen.

The song winded down and faded out completely, as the score tallied towards the end. After several seconds of anticipation, numbers spun and spun until displaying her final score an impressively high 98.

"Wow, you're amazing,“ you said as Sana bowed and sat back down, taking another swig of water as she handed you the microphone.

"I may have had a little training before I became a hostess. It wasn’t working out so I decided to apply here instead.”

She turned her attention towards you, mic still in hand.

“Your turn!”

Your expression betrayed your thoughts as you politely refused it, staring at it as if the object were suddenly lit on fire.

“You’re going to have to put a lot of alcohol in me if I’m going to start singing, Sana,” you said.

Sana pouted in response. ”Well then, I guess we better order a case,” she said. “But I won’t make you sing if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you, Sana.”

“Instead, I will ask you embarrassing personal questions,” she said, suddenly surprising you.

“Oh. That’s fair, I guess,” you replied, not exactly sure at what she was going to ask, but you figured it was a nice trade.

Sana didn’t waste any time wanting to get to the good stuff.

“When was the last time you and Momo…?” Sana asked, her voice trailed off deliberately as her eyebrow raised.

“Went on a date? A week before she left,” you confidently said.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Sana frowned.

“I don’t? What possibly could you mean then?” you teased.

“When’s the last time you know... You bent her over, pulled her hair, and made her scream?” Sana said, abruptly getting straight to the point.

She clearly wasn’t going to pull any punches. You took another sip from your water before attempting to answer.

“You really just expect me to kiss and tell just like that?”

“I do. I can't help that I'm nosy, " Sana giggled.

"Well, Momo never asked me to pull her hair, but the last time she and I got…intimate was the morning she left for Kyoto. In the shower."

"The shower, huh?" Sana repeated. “Some girls don’t like to admit they like their hair being pulled, but I think we all secretly love it.”

"I'm gonna need something alcoholic now," you said, embarrassed at your reveal.

"Coming right up," Sana said as she headed the intercom by the exit door.

"Send up the priciest bottle in the place!"

"Right away, Minatozaki-san!"

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” Sana said before you could voice any concern as she sat back down beside you.

"I always figured Momo was the vanilla type of girl," Sana said.

"Vanilla is still a good flavor.”

"There's nothing at all wrong with vanilla. But sometimes you want something a bit tastier."

There was a quick knock at the door, Sana voicing her approval to enter. The door swung open and a waiter walked in carrying a tray with several items, sitting everything down on the table and putting it in a bucket of ice.

"Please enjoy," the man said, bowing and leaving as quickly as he entered.

“Oh, we will,” Sana said as she opened the bottle. Putting a few ice cubes in each glass she filled them partway, handing you one as your glasses clinked.

"It’s been a while since I had a drink," you said, staring at the mysterious dark-colored liquid, swirling it around.

"Sip it, don’t down it.”

“Bottoms up,” you responded, putting the glass to your lips as you took your first taste. It wasn’t too strong, a mixture of sweet and sour, and a taste you quickly grew accustomed to.

“Well? How is it?” Sana asked, waiting for your review.

“It’s good. I was expecting it to be stronger by the way it looked.”

“We can’t get too carried away on our first meeting.”

“It’s really good.”

“Glad you like. Now, time for more questions!” Sana said, full of enthusiasm.

“I can’t wait,” you said half sarcastically.

“You don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“What’s your favorite part of a woman?”

"Uhh," you quickly hesitated, sinking back into the couch before you could think of what to say, letting more alcohol into your system as you took another drink.

“Let me change up the question,” Sana said, getting off the couch as she hopped up onto the table in front, crossing her legs and leaned back, resting both hands behind her.

“What’s your favorite part of me?”

You were caught off guard as Sana practically presented herself to you like an art display. You tried to keep eye contact, not wanting your eyes to roam her perfect tight body as much as you liked to.

“It’s okay to look. It'd be rude if you didn’t,” Sana said, lips curling into that same sensual expression. You let out a deep breath as you respectfully looked at Sana’s body, taking a gander at her smooth milky skin, eyes wandering every curve of her deadly body.

“I don’t have nice big tits like Momo does,“ she said, a slight frown forming on her lips. “But I think I do pretty well in other departments.”

Sana uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, trying her best to bring out your arousal and you swear you caught a glimpse of something. It wasn’t going to take much. She was now the center of attention in the room, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were her prey, and she was a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

“You’re dangerous, Sana,” you blurted out. She reacted immediately with that familiar smile.

“That’s not the first time I’ve been called that,” she said, adjusting the straps of her heel. “I never get tired of hearing it.”

Sana was closer to you than you realized, and you felt the temperature of the room heating up. You had spent plenty of time with hostesses at the same club, but something about Sana brought out something in you, something you couldn't understand. A mixture of nerves, excitement, and fear, like the first time you had asked a girl out.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sana said, biting on the tip of her finger seductively as she straightened her posture.

“You’ll have to repeat it. I forgot it already,” you lied.

Sana knew you didn’t. “Tell me...what your favorite part of me is. What your favorite part of my body is,” she said, every word crystal clear as she stared into your eyes.

Honestly, how she expected you to answer her with just one thing was beyond you. You went for the classic, yet cliche response.

“I like your eyes.”

Sana was so taken aback by such a cheesy answer it took her a moment to find the words to respond.

“My eyes, huh?” she said, a chuckle alongside her answer. “That’s funny, because ever since I hopped up here you’ve looked at every part of my body but my eyes.”

Caught in the act. Who could you blame you though? You were being seduced expertly by a blonde vixen, you couldn’t have been expected to spend every second gazing at those brown beauties when the rest of her body was so delicious.

“I don’t mind though,” Sana said. “You’re paying to spend time with me, I’m not going to stop you from undressing me with your eyes.”

“Although I’d prefer it if you used your hands,” she said, biting her lip.

You nearly choked. Maybe dangerous was too generous of a word to describe her. But sometimes the rush of something or someone dangerous was worth the risk.

“You don't have to tell me, I’m pretty sure I can figure it out already,” she said, beaming with confidence.

“Oh, do you?” you asked, trying to call her bluff.

“I do,” Sana said, giving you one more deadly look, letting you see the color in her beautiful round eyes. In an instant, Sana’s legs parted and she spread them invitingly wide, leaving you with the perfect view between her thighs. Even better was the lack of any underwear underneath her tight dress, exposing her pink pussy that sucked the life out of you momentarily and left you breathless.

You tried to keep it together, even though you both knew Sana had the upper hand. Nothing could divert your gaze from in between her creamy naked thighs and the beautiful pink flesh of her gorgeous pussy, dripping with arousal from her actions already.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

“Maybe,” Sana said, still as playful as ever.

“Is that allowed, Miss Minatozaki?” you asked, falling back on formality.

“Of course it’s allowed. I help run this place, who’s going to stop me?” Sana replied nonchalantly. “As I said, it’s my job to take care of you.”

The room definitely grew infinitely hotter as Sana leaned forward, her legs still spread, and rested her hands on the inside of her inner thighs.

“You know, you’ve had a couple of drinks tonight,” Sana said. “But you must be starving. And what kind of hostess would I bet if I didn’t offer you anything to eat?”

If that wasn’t enough of an invitation, Sana hiked her dress up and spread her legs as wide as they could go.

“I am feeling pretty hungry,” you said, your mouth salivating at the pink flesh in between Sana’s spread thighs. “Aren’t there cameras here?” you asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes, for your safety and mine. But I turned them off after I ordered our drinks,” Sana said, flashing a cheeky smile.

“You think of everything don’t you?”

“It’s my job to. Now, how about you bring that cute face over here and taste me.”

You didn’t need Sana to say another word as you scooted off the couch, resting on the edge of it, and tried to get comfortable.

Sana had already done most of the work for you, keeping her legs kept open as you touched her bare skin for the first time, feeling how smooth and soft it was as you ran your hands up her creamy thighs. Looking up for approval, Sana gave it immediately as you planted several kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs, earning a soft delicate moan for the first time.

Her breath hitched as you licked long stripes up her sensitive bare thighs, ending with wet kisses, looking up to see the reaction on Sana’s face and finding nothing but satisfaction.

“Are you going to tease me?” Sana asked.

“That depends. Do you like being teased, Sana?” you replied.

“I love being teased, but not here. You can tease me later when my hands are wrapped in your bedsheets. I’m warmed up enough,” Sana said, running a finger through her pink wet slit as held up her finger in the air, demonstrating her slick glistening in the light.

You were a bit disappointed. Part of you wanted to test Sana, to see how much she could take, to drive her absolutely crazy the same way you did Momo. But Sana was wired differently. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t scared to take the lead. Plus, you were about still in public, it was best not to dawdle.

That didn’t stop you from kissing Sana’s thighs one more time before you brought your mouth to her pretty pussy, licking against her wet slit in one slow long stroke. Sana moaned, a sound that was as pretty as it was needy as you repeated it, licking up and down her pussy several times as you had your first taste of Sana.

Sana tasted utterly delicious. If you had to describe her taste, it was a mixture of sweet with just a hint of tanginess to it, not unlike the expensive drink you had both indulged in. There was no doubt Sana tasted much better.

You wanted more of her taste as your tongue explored Sana’s silky wet folds, gathering up her nectar into your lips and ran your tongue aimlessly.

“That feels so good,” Sana moaned, running her fingers through the strands of your hair as your tongue roamed in between her thighs, wandering around her wet hole as if it wanted to get lost in her sensitive warm flesh.

You wanted more of Sana’s intoxicating taste, you wanted to taste as much of this sultry woman as you possibly could. Looking up at her satisfied expression, you licked through her cunt and latched your lips onto her clit, earning a mixture of whimpers and moans and the added pleasure of her warm thighs wrapping around your head, like a snake coiled around its victim and you were more than happy to be Sana’s prey.

It didn’t take long to turn Sana into what you wanted, a pretty squirming mess unable to control her movements on the karaoke room’s table. Her hips bucked as she tried to ride your face and you were thankful that the room you had chosen to devour her in was already designed to be soundproof.

“Mmm, fuck, that tongue is amazing,” Sana said as you felt both hands frantically pulling your hair harshly as you slurped on her swollen clit, trying to draw out more of her tasty juices.

The more you ate Sana up the louder she got, voicing her satisfaction. The louder she got the harder her thighs squeezed around your head, rubbing the sides of your face with her soft smooth skin. Her nectar quickly spread all over your lips and chin, coating your face with her essence.

“D-don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” Sana cried out as you pushed her past her limits already, alternating between sucking and licking around her sensitive clit, and kept your eyes on her the entire time, watching her become an absolute writhing mess.

You could barely breathe but it didn’t become a concern, all you wanted at that moment was hearing Sana’s pleasure. You’d prefer being suffocated by her pussy and her aroma, patiently waiting for those three words that meant you had done everything right.

“I-I’m gonna cum!”

Perfect. With warmth surrounding your head and wetness spreading all over your face, you gave everything you had and feasted on Sana’s pussy, moving your tongue and lips together to obtain what Sana desperately needed.

The moment came quickly as Sana hit her peak. The competing sounds of your lips slurping around her clit and her loud erotic moans filled the small room as her juices bathed your face, the wetness already there intensifying. Her thighs violently trembled and her toes curled, her back arching as she held on to your head for dear life, hips bucking wildly and you did what you could to keep her centered on the table as she came all over you.

Sana was a beautiful mess during the entirety of her orgasm, and you loved watching every second of the pleasure that grew too much for her. Sana showered you in her sweet juices and you were happy to receive every drop. You kept the pressure on her clit until Sana couldn’t take anymore and pushed your face off her as you were able to breathe freely, wondering if it was worth the trade-off to not being smothered by her heavenly thighs.

You stared into the round glazed-over eyes of the gorgeous woman you had just pleasured to completion, gasping and breathing heavily and cleaned up her thighs of her stained juices, wanting to dive right back.

“Wow,” Sana said between heavy drawn-out breaths. “Momo was right, you really do know how to please a woman.”

“I do my best,” you responded, wiping the juices off your lips and chin and making a show out of licking your fingers clean.

“It helps when you taste as good as you do,” you said, causing the full pale cheeks of Sana’s face to blush.

The redness of her cheeks gradually faded, replaced by a mischievous smile as you waited for her next step was. It came right away as Sana lifted herself from on top of the table her backside was resting on. With the quickness of a cat, she climbed onto your lap and wrapped her hands around the back of your neck, focusing her seductive eyes on your own.

"Your hostess wants to know what else I can do for you," Sana said, with a hunger for more. You felt weak as your face was almost close enough to rest against her own, the tension in the air the only thing separating you.

“I think my hostess should do whatever she feels like doing,” you replied, Sana’s eyes beaming at your response.

“Leave everything to me, sir,” Sana giggled, falling back into her role, eyes laced with lust and desire. Her head lifted up, seeing the expression on your eyes as her hands fiddled with your shirt, slowing unbuttoning the first few buttons.

She kept constant eye contact and Sana seemed to enjoy slowly undressing you, tilting her head to the side and leaned in close, lips finding your own and crashing against them in a deep warm embrace as she loosened up more buttons until your shirt was completely undone.

The kiss was brief but you both longed for more as Sana pulled your shirt open, admiring your bare chest, and traced it with one finger, planting her lips just below the middle of your collarbone and leaving her lipstick stained on your skin.

She cupped the side of your face and you felt her lips on you again, soft as silk as her tongue found its way into your mouth, needing no invitation as you wrapped your hands around her slim waist, desperate to pull her your bodies closer.

You were rewarded with one more kiss before she dismounted your lap, slowly lowering herself on the room’s black and white patterned carpet as she got on her knees as if she had done this many times before.

Sana didn’t say much as she unbuckled your belt, letting her actions do all the talking as she unzipped your pants and tugged them down to your ankles. Her warm hands caressed up and down your thighs, sending blood flowing to all the right places. It didn’t take long for a bulge to form through your boxers, arousing Sana equally as she rubbed it through the fabric of your underwear, tracing the outline of your shaft.

Sana sought out the rest of your naked body, quickly stripping your underwear off and leaving you with nothing left but the shirt on your back. Sana gasped at your newly exposed throbbing cock, eyes lit up with hunger as she licked her lips to let you know she liked what she saw.

“So, this is what Momo has been hiding from me,“ Sana said, spreading your legs wide as she wrapped her slim fingers around your hard cock and gripping tightly, applying firm pressure and slowly pumping you.

“It’s all for me now, ” she said as her tongue ran along your rigid shaft, sending shockwaves of pleasure as she painted up and down your cock from base to tip. Sana swirled her wet tongue around your sensitive head, lapping up your leaking slit and kissed your tip, cleaning it off.

Sana couldn’t take her eyes off your cock, spitting on it repeatedly and jerking you off in her small delicate hand, the pleasure rising already in your body.

"I should get more comfortable," she said, giving your shaft just a few more pumps before standing upright. She knew your eyes were drawn to her as she slipped each black strap down each shoulder, wiggling out of it as it fell to the ground, leaving a black lace bra the only thing preventing you from seeing every inch of her beautiful body.

She paused her work on your cock, letting your eyes roam her tight body and you did so happily. Her legs went on for days, her body tight and slim in all the right places. You had already seen her beautiful pussy and explored it with your mouth, but you wanted to feel her all over, and wanted to make her gasp just at your touch.

You focused on her tight stomach, her abs weren’t as defined as Momo but you’d still eat off of them. Then there were Sana’s breasts, pushed up nicely, and wanting to escape from their constraints. Momo clearly had the size advantage, but Sana’s tits were shaped nicely, big enough to get your hands on.

“Help me out?” Sana asked, interrupting your scan of her body as she turned around, facing away from you as she presented to you her almost bare back and most importantly her plump round ass that looked delicious and so utterly squeezable.

You regretfully remained patient as your hands grasped the thin fabric that made up Sana’s bra, undoing the clasp and helped her out of it, running your hands through her soft skin and wondering how such a beautiful creature existed. Sana quickly spun around on her heels, lifting her arms over her head and letting you see her newly exposed breasts in all their glory. Your jaw dropped at them, the perfect combination of round and milky mounds, looking soft as possible.

Staring was all you had time to do as Sana got back to her favorite position on her knees, grabbing your shaft. One more kiss on your tip and Sana parted her lips with your cock, wrapping her mouth around the first few inches. Her lips were impossibly soft and warm and you moaned loudly as Sana began sucking your cock, moving up and down and applying pressure, hollowing her squishy cheeks.

You found yourself unable to speak as Sana’s head bobbed up and down, trying to process the pleasure you were receiving.

“It feels so good,” you moaned as Sana upped her pace, lips sliding up and down your shaft as her tongue played with your underside, swirling around it at the same time.

“Good. I hope I’m taking good care of you.”

“You are, Sana. Fuck, you really are.”

Sana smiled and continued her assault on your cock, slurping away as her lips went deeper, keeping her eyes on you the entire time. Her hands rested on your thighs, digging her nails in as her head bobbed faster, slurping on your cock and leaving it covered in drool and warmth. You loved the feeling of her sucking you off, as she went even deeper towards your base you melted even more.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back in response, savoring the feeling of her lips swallowing up your cock, slurping loudly as her lips traveled back and forth, slobbering all over your shaft.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that.”

Sana got progressively messier and louder in response, and you opened your eyes almost involuntarily as you felt your cock hit the back of the throat, not gagging her even a little. Her lips rested at your base for several seconds before slowly retreating, fondling your balls as she took you in and out of her warm wet mouth with ease, rapidly bobbing her head more as you moaned in delight.

Sana loved nothing more than working her magic in between your legs, and you didn’t think there was a better feeling in the world as she gave the wettest loudest blowjob, but you knew the best was still to come. Sana’s messy slurps as she feasted on your cock was music to your ears, and you couldn’t help audibly sharing your satisfaction every time you felt the back of her throat.

“Don’t cum yet,” Sana teased, stroking your cock furiously as she sucked on your balls tenderly, latching on and slurping just as loudly. She released them only after they were equally given attention and covered in warm saliva, knowing what you wanted next.

“It’s time for the best part,” Sana said as she climbed back on your lap again, her thighs pressed on either side of your own as they wrapped around your hips. She took your hard cock into her hand again, stroking slowly and teased herself with it, running it through her very wet folds, the warmth radiating from it driving you insane already.

Sana found a comfortable position as she nudged your wet tip against her pussy, lining it with her soaked entrance up perfectly, the anticipation killing you both already.

“Ready?” Sana asked, and you gave a silent nod in response, although you weren’t sure if anything would be able to prepare you for what you were about to experience.

It took a few final seconds of teasing before Sana lowered her hips and sank down onto your cock, entering her for the first time as you both moaned in tandem at the initial penetration.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” Sana gasped, trying to work her hips back and forth, grinding and stretching herself out little by little. Her tightness was overwhelming, the wetness and heat smothering your cock like nothing else. You watched between her thighs as the tip of your cock disappeared and reappeared, the mixture of her saliva and juices from her pussy helping guiding you deeper into her hole.

“That never gets old,” Sana said, and you were inclined to agree. The feeling of entering a woman for the first time was one of your favorite things, and if that woman happened to be an insanely sexy hostess named Minatozaki Sana you loved it even more.

Sana took it slow at first, something that you were surprised by but you knew that wasn’t going to last if the way she gave head was something to go by.

You could tell by the greedy look on her face that she needed more as she lifted her body almost entirely off your cock, leaving just your sensitive tip drenched with her fluids inside.

Seconds passed as you both braced yourselves for what was next as Sana used all the force in her hips and slammed herself down on your cock, impaling herself to the hilt and moaning needily.

“Oh f-fuck,” she cried out, and you waited for any adjustment she needed as she held onto your shoulders, eyes half-lidded with pleasure already.

Taking a deep breath Sana began moving slowly, lifting her hips up as her warm walls hugged your cock. You held onto her slender waist, watching the erotic expression on her face as she began bouncing on your cock.

"You feel so big inside me. You're so fucking hard," Sana moaned as she stretched her tight slick walls out. Her tightness drove you crazy as she took you in and out of her body, establishing a rhythm.

You were content at the moment to let Sana do all the work, watching her eyes full of lust as she was expertly grinding on your cock, moaning loudly as her head tilted back.

"You feel so good, Sana," you said breathlessly, exploring her body with your hands.

"You do too. You feel so incredible inside me, I love your cock stretching me out," she said as the look on her face continued to be full of wanton need. Sana had seemingly all the experience with riding a cock, and she was proudly going to demonstrate it, grinding those powerful hips with purpose as her beautiful tits bounced up and down.

“I really wanna ride you harder,” Sana said, even though there was no need to ask for permission as she ran a hand through her messy hair as she bounced and bounced, covering your shaft in her nectar.

“Then ride me harder,” you replied, giving her ass a simultaneous slap on each cheek that echoed throughout the karaoke room. “Ride me as hard as you can, Sana.”

She bit her lip in response, flashing a devilish smirk as if preparing you for what you had just unleashed. Sana took a few moments to let you relax, letting you get ready for the calm before the storm was about to take place.

“Ride that fucking cock,” you taunted, making sure she wasn’t about to hold back. You felt her small hands around both sides of your neck as her hips began gyrating wildly back and forth, desperately trying to feel all of your hard cock inside her tight pussy.

Your hands roamed her lower back before finding her soft ass cheeks and squeezed them both, giving repeated smacks against the warm flesh, adding an extra oomph to the loud erotic moans already escaping from Sana’s devilish lips. Sana continued upping her pace little by little, bouncing her tight frame on your cock as you were hypnotized by her movements,

“I’m so fucking wet,” Sana said, her juices dripping down her thighs and leaking onto your body as she rode you balls deep confirming her every word.

You wanted Sana to be even wetter if such a thing were possible. You wanted her to lose yourself in the pleasure she was finding, as if riding your cock wasn’t enough for her, and it most certainly wasn’t.

Momentarily, you left your hands from the warmth of Sana’s tight ass and ran them up her back, pushing her body forward to grant you easier access to her delicious bouncing breasts. Sana was too focused on the hard cock impaling her tight cunt as you turned your attention elsewhere, teasing her hard pink nipples with your tongue, swirling around them as you latched and sucked harshly on her tits.

“F-fuck yes baby, suck on those tits,” Sana demanded, not that you needed any further instructions. You squeezed her sizable breasts, sucking on each of her rosy nipples with equal attention, biting and licking them one after another.

“That feels so good. You like my tits?”

“I love them. I love your body so much, Sana,” you said as you continued to hungrily close your lips around her swollen nipples, applying a firm but gentle pressure.

The harder Sana rode you the more sweat began accumulating on your bodies, which you responded to by licking between her cleavage. You wanted to lick her entire body clean, nuzzling your face in between her tits as your tongue ran across every surface you could find.

Sana lifted her arms up and put her hands behind her head as if she suddenly read your mind, and you licked the sweat off from her neck before diving down and licked her armpits, desperate to taste every inch of her naked body.

“You’re so fucking delicious, Sana. I wanna taste you all night.”

“I won’t stop you,” Sana said in response, continuing to harshly slam herself on your cock, driving herself crazy with the hard shaft between her legs constantly spearing her constricting wet walls.

You sat there in awe of the situation, savoring the way Sana’s dripping hot flesh wrapped around your cock while her thighs loudly smacked against your own as your bodies were drowned in a sea of pleasure.

“I-I’m about to cum again!” Sana said, finding the right words more difficult by the moment, her walls clenching more and more letting you know that her limits were once again being breached.

“Cum for me, Sana,” you said, grabbing two handfuls of her perfect ass, squeezing harshly. Sana paid no attention to your words, only focusing on using your cock for her pleasure, wildly riding you without any other thoughts as she took you inside her at full speed and riding you as hard as she possibly could.

Her arms snaked around the back of your neck again, locking her wrists together as she demanded her maximum amount of euphoria, chasing another climax greedily before you even had your first.

“I’m going to cum!”

Sana’s pretty voice echoed throughout the room as her walls pulsated around your shaft, squeezing the life out of your cock almost painfully so before releasing you in waves. She moaned desperately into your ears as she came on your cock, juices flowing like a river as her body shook uncontrollably and her movements were no longer her own as she turned to jelly and slowly rode out her orgasm to completion.

Her high went on for several moments and time lost all meaning for Sana as the aftershocks of her explosive climax took over. She held onto your body as she slowly came down, barely able to open her eyes as her hips rolled ever so slowly to ride everything out.

“H-holy shit,” Sana said, recovering her senses gradually as she attempted to make eye contact.

“I came so hard. I can still feel it,” she weakly said.

“I can tell. I’m really glad this room is soundproof,” you teased. Sana looked up with glazed over eyes, showing appreciation for her satisfaction as she brought her lips and pressed them against yours, passionately but softly kissing you.

“I want to taste myself on your cock,” Sana said, dropping such a filthy set of words so casually.

The lustful expression on Sana’s features never faded as she slowly slid herself off your lap and dropped to her knees, taking your drenched shaft between her soft lips again and took you inside her mouth again, slowly sucking her messy wet juices clean.

“You’re right, I am delicious,” she giggled, once again her cute and wild sides contrasting each other was the theme of the night.

“You must be close, how do you want me? Where do you want to fuck me?” Sana asked, stroking your cock as she kissed your thighs.

So many options. You looked around the small private area, weighing each one. There were a lot of easily accessible surfaces in this room. The couch was comfortable, but you’d spent plenty of time on it already. You stood up without another word as Sana regretfully removed your cock from her small warm mouth, and helped her to her feet, letting her be the one who was in anticipation this time.

You circled around Sana’s body, scanning her curves and eyeing every inch of her milky bare skin. Not wanting to waste any time, you pulled her towards the side of the karaoke’s marble table, spinning her body around so she was facing away from you and gasped at your suddenness.

Viewing her beautiful backside you grabbed Sana’s shoulders and bent her forward until she was at an angle that you liked, the upper portion of her body pressed against the table and her breasts mashed against its surface.

"Don't fuck me like you fucked Momo," Sana said, her words twisting your face in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

Sana paused as she looked over her shoulder. “It means you don’t have to be gentle with me. I’m not a delicate flower that bruises easily.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sana.”

She paused before answering. “Sometimes a girl likes being hurt,” Sana said, flashing a cheeky smile.

For the first time of the night, you were speechless.

“Be as rough as you want with me. It’s just us, and I want you to make me feel every inch of that amazing cock. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Well, you certainly weren’t going to as you gave her bent over body a quick lookover, focusing on her perfect round ass displayed for your eyes only, giving both of her supple cheeks a quick peek and stealing another taste of her delicious pussy.

In the meantime, Sana grabbed the karaoke remote off the table, pushing a few buttons on it as the television once again sprang to life.

“Random mode. Felt like adding a little bit of atmosphere,” Sana said.

Even though the place was supposedly soundproof, the added bit of noise to cover up the sounds your bodies were about to make was most welcome.

You ran your hands over all the warm soft skin you could find, spreading Sana's legs wide. You couldn’t wait to feel her warmth again before grasping a hip and lining your cock with her entrance, running your tip through her silky wet folds.

"Fuck me now," Sana demanded, pushing her hips against you to hurry things up. Her wetness nudged against your cock as you embraced yourself for the warmth your cock was about to enter again. You wanted her just as bad as she wanted you as you used your hips and slid inside the slippery tight walls of Sana’s pussy, filling her to the very hilt and earning a loud needy moan from her lips.

Warmth and wetness hugged your cock everywhere and you looked forward and caught Sana’s needy eyes, knowing no adjustment was necessary from her.

You held onto her hips and started moving, fucking Sana from behind with a slow deliberate pace as those tight wet lower lips wrapped around your cock gripped hard, keeping you inside the comfort of her body.

“You can do better than that,” Sana said, the disappointment obvious in her voice. You took her words as a challenge, squeezing her hips tighter as you picked up speed, sliding in and out of her wet hole with ease with the aid of her messy juices lubricating your cock.

You picked up the pace quickly, your hips moving faster and faster with each thrust as those delicious silky lips squeezed and squeezed your cock, letting you know your shaft wasn’t going anywhere. Sana’s moans grew more satisfied the faster you went, but she still needed more, and she wasn’t going to be content until you gave her everything she wanted.

“Harder. Fuck me harder!” she demanded, pushing her body against your hips again. You held on to her warm body and gave deeper thrusts, using more energy and starting smacking your body against her ass cheeks, causing her flesh to jiggle.

“There you go, was that so hard?” Sana taunted, demanding you give her even more.

Soon the sounds of your skin slapping against each other began filling the room, as you filled Sana to the hilt with each thrust, her wetness spreading over every inch of your needy shaft. Her walls squeezed every time you entered her, keeping a tight grip on your cock as you pistoned your hips and found a perfect rhythm.

“That’s it, fucking pound me. Make me take all of that big hard cock!”

You went even harder, encouraged by Sana’s loud lustful moans as you slammed into her pussy, causing a layer of thin sweat to form over your bodies again. You remembered her words from earlier as you ran your hands all over her sweaty back, collecting a handful of her blonde hair and tangling your fingers in it, forming a loose makeshift ponytail and yanked on it gently as you felt her walls clench in response.

“Fuck yes, you’re so deep! Keep fucking me just like this!”

You yanked back more carefully, pulling her torso upright off of the room’s table as she looked straight ahead into the screen in front, as if she were looking into a mirror. You had gone this far already, so you decided you should up the ante even more, giving her ass a smack.

“Mmm yes, slap my ass, baby!”

You responded by giving another slap to her soft supple cheek, followed by another on the opposite side.

“Harder,” Sana said. You gave two more slaps, adding more impact as her flesh rippled each time.

“I said harder. This isn’t the time for you to hold back. Slap my fucking ass like you mean it.”

You certainly weren't going to disappoint her for a second time. As you drilled into her tight hole you gave her delicious ass repeated slaps, each one harder than the previous one, making sure to not hit the same part twice. You slapped Sana’s tight ass again and again, the crack of your palm against her bare skin echoing as you gave in to her desires, turning her cheeks a visible shade of red and each smack against her bottom made her tight walls clench in approval.

While your fingers were entangled with the strands of Sana’s hair you pulled even harder and made sure you kept your pace steady as you fucked her from behind.

Hearing her gasps and moans of delight filled your ears as your cock plunged in and out of her warm wet hole, each time you withdrew the juices covering your shaft glistening in the room lighting.

“Is this what you wanted?” you growled at Sana as you drove your cock as deep as possible, her tightness smothering your cock with each entrance into her warmth.

“Y-yes! Don’t stop fucking me!” Sana said as her voice cracked, her whimpering moans escaped alongside her words as you gave into your needy urges. You make sure you didn’t stop your movements, pounding into her tight cunt as roughly as possible and fucked Sana as hard as your body allowed you to, the music blaring from the screen doing little if anything to dampen your combined moans.

Your hands found their way back to her perfect hips, saving your energy for the most powerful thrusts you continued to give Sana, returning the favor and using her pussy just like she used your cock earlier, caring little for much other than your own selfish pleasure.

“Are you going to cum soon, baby?” Sana asked, sensing your need for your own desperate release. You were surprised you had somehow lasted this long inside this impossibly hot woman. The juices collected on every inch of your shaft grew by the second, and the knot in your stomach tightened more and more with every deep thrust into her tight wanton body.

With the way Sana looked back at you, there wasn’t any way you couldn’t survive any longer, her needy eyes wanting your climax as much as you did.

“I-I am. I’m so close, Sana,” you blurted out to her delight, flashing a lustful smile in your direction.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. I want you to cum. I need you to cum inside me. You’ll do that for me won’t you?”

“O-of course,” you replied, finding the air in the room harder to take in.

“Fuck me hard, and don’t you dare stop until you fill me.”

You’d never forget the erotic look of Sana’s desires as she made eye contact one final time. You kept your eyes on her bent over body, sweat dripping down her lower back as you pounded her pussy and plunged your hard cock deep into the warmth of her tight cunt, chasing the only thing that mattered to the two of you.

“Cum inside me. Please cum inside me, “ Sana pleaded with her words, and you had nothing left, eager to give in to her, to give her everything she wanted. All you could take was a handful more of thrusts, smacking your hot flesh against her own as you felt yourself being thrown over the point of no return.

There were no more words shared as you grunted loudly, moaning Sana’s name on your lips as you squeezed her hips so hard you didn’t even have time to worry about bruising her.

Your shaft violently throbbed inside her tight walls as you erupted inside her. You filled Sana to the brim with your warmth and coated her insides with your huge load, groaning with every spurt of thick semen that shot deep into her womb as your balls were drained deep inside her.

Sighing a sense of relief, your bodies stayed connected as your orgasm slowly ran its course. Sana’s tight pussy milked every single drop from you and you rested inside her while you recovered, struggling to catch your breath as you panted and gasped as you felt the most satisfied you had been in quite some time.

You didn’t remember how long you were inside Sana after you came. It might have been a few seconds, or half an hour as you regrettably withdrew an inch at a time from her warmth, leaving her body with a loud pop. As soon as she was empty your thick load slowly leaked out of her, dripping down her thighs and making a mess below.

“That was amazing,” Sana said, equally out of breath as she gingerly turned around, gripping your spent cock one more time and stroking slowly, making sure not a drop was wasted as she licked her fingers clean.

“You’re amazing, Sana.”

“Not bad for just a replacement, huh?” Sana said, cutely giggling.

“I think I might have to request you again. You really take good care of your clients.”

“Thank you. But you know you don’t have to come to the club to see me,” Sana said.

“Is that so?”

“Of course. I’m not really a hostess anymore. I don’t have quotas and I certainly don’t need the extra money. “

“I'll take you up on that offer then.”

“You’re certainly welcome to spend time and money here, but you’ve done so enough, so your wallet deserves a break. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll take you somewhere with some real privacy?” Sana smirked.

“And where might that be?” you asked.

“You’ll see. Somewhere where you’ll be able to see just how loud I can get.”

#club mimosa #twice smut #sana smut #twice #sana #male reader #reader insert #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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elsewhereuniversity · 4 years

Text

There is a map (No, a Map, capital letter intended) in the Staff-Only room of the Library. The Map is old, probably from the 50’s, when the New Library Building was constructed, and isn’t really a map at all, but a blueprint.* It’s covered by a sheet of glass, which is in turn covered with dry-erase marks denoting changes to the layout; a bookshelf here, a walled-up door there, notes on where certain sections can be accessed from. The Map has seen many changes since its creation, from the coffee stain left on the Reference Desk to the small tear from a careless Page removing sticky notes, back before the glass cover. Let me show you a few sections of it: there, the lower fire exit by the Archives, which leads to a tunnel the Librarians suspect connects to the Wyrm’s lair. If one were to follow the tunnel, they’d pass newspaper nests, small scales and echoing words until they came to a collapse that only a small animal could fit through. The Pages say this is where the Bookwyrms nest, in this small tunnel, and none really care to find out. Or here: where the back wall of the Library should be there are pieces of printer paper taped to the wall, sporadically updated by those that venture into the Deep Stacks.

*Unlikely to be a reproduction, as notes from the contractor can be viewed on the back. They have been dated to roughly the period in which the New Library Building was under construction.

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The Map is ever-changing and often inaccurate, as the Library shifts with a mind of its own, (Poppy, 1922) but its pathways are followed faithfully, the safe havens redrawn every time they move, and those who must re-shelve books deeper in swear by the compiled notes of generations of Librarians and their helpers. Notes are made on where sections blend into one another (distinguishable by carpet and bookshelf appearances) (Multiple sources, including Library residents and Mercury) alongside dotted lines of color marking the migratory paths of vending machines (towards Historical Biographies in the spring, doubling back to Law & Government around the summer solstice, then swerving to Unnatural Science until the first hard frost to avoid raising the ire of New Additions & Editions before finally wintering in the fiction area. Various vending tribes tend towards different sections; Chips & Snacks in Sci-Fi, Candy (real and/or imagined) in Dystopia, ect.) (Rosen et al.,1997)* Should one be careless enough to rouse the defensive instincts of a vending herd, the safest place to hide would be one of the Pages’ forts, built of old shelving and couches in a triangle formation reinforced by vending machine corpses long picked clean by scavengers. You can hide in them until the stampede passes even without authorization, though an alert will be sent to the nearest Chapter. If you leave before said Chapter arrives, just be sure to toggle the distress beacon’s switch to Off.

It's also worth mentioning that vending machine stampedes can also be caused by their main predators, rogue bookwyrms. If you suspect there is a rogue bookwyrm in the area, retreat to a safe zone and stay inside one of the provided hula hoops.

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*Rosen and Hall have different accounts of the date (1835 and 2000), but the general consensus between the eight authors is the 1996-97 academic year.

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I have been privy to several of the Circulation Chapter meetings in which it was discussed who would have the unfortunate job of marking the edges of magazine territory, which I understand is somewhat dangerous drudge work. I have also had the dubious honor of being trusted enough to venture out with the Expedition and record the behavior of newer vs. older magazines. While it is a fascinating topic, I imagine you’re not interested, so I will only give you the few bits of advice I have before moving on. One: The National Geographics travel in packs, but are primarily ambush hunters; keep on your guard and you’ll be fine. Two: Vanity Fairs are vicious little bastards, and absolutely nobody will object to a few of them being ‘unexpectedly removed from circulation.’ And three: A spray bottle of saltwater is generally enough to dissuade tabloids from attack, as they’re very vain and water makes the pages stick and tear.

#lonely-roads-at-midnight #love this!!#the library #the citations especially give it such a good tone #absurd content and serious format is dear to me #stories #long post #submission

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imagineabrighterworld · 3 years

Text

The Saint and the Prince pt.2

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾

You look at your mother through the mirror as she braids ribbons into your hair. Her hands flutter as they hold your locks of hair with infinite gentleness.

You were dressed in the color of persimmons and summer peaches, from the ribbons in your hair to the dye streaking your cheeks. You felt silly dressed so weirdly. It wasn't like your family to be so.. Colorful. Not on a day like this. Everyone was wearing black except for you.

You shuffle uncomfortably in your seat. Your mother was crying, and yet she was doing your hair.

“Mama?” You whisper, hating the way her hands began to tremble and lose hold of your hair. Why was she crying? What was making her so sad? “Mama you're scaring me.”

She sniffles, using the back of her palm to wipe away the wetness of her tears. “Forgive me..” The kohl lining her eyes is smeared, but she pays no mind to the smudges on her hands. “Forgive me.”

You want to comfort her but she coaxes you into staying still as she finishes with your hair. It is only when your father comes into the room that you begin to piece together what is happening. You were being taken away from her, but why? It was supposed to be a good day today. The Alshanun Iraziz, the Sun Saint was supposed to be coming to bring her blessings, just like your papa said.

Your mother’s cries of anguish grow louder now as your father guides you out of the room, his own sniffles paled in comparison to hers. The sound of shattering glass is your only goodbye from your mother.

“Papa? I'm afraid.”

He says nothing. His hand tightens around yours, the bones in your hand squeezing together, but you're too afraid to pull away from him. Afraid he might disappear, or go back home to mama, leaving you alone.

A crowd lays in front of you, the familiar black clothing of the Sun Saint’s day is before you. Why were you in color when they were in black? You felt like an ill beating heart in the crowd of bleakness.

Now, you stand in the center of your town.

The villagers around you murmur prayers as you pass them by. They reach out and kiss your palms. As if you were a saint in the books your grandmother had coveted so long ago. Whispers surround you, the sounds crawling on your skin uncomfortably.

𝓞 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝔂, 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼, 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓝𝓪𝓭𝓪

Your father left you behind somewhere in the crowd as he ushered you to the platform in the middle of the crowd. His face blurred among the people, but somewhere in the throng you swear you can hear his cries.

As you look down at the orangewood platform carved with prayers, you know why your mother was crying. You know why the people have to hold your father back as his cries turn to screams.

“Bueirikan kembali! Khadhnaa!”

Give her back. Take me.

“Ahfuz tifli!”

Save my child.

The high priest stands behind you as the sun begins to rise.

𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

The orange sky is the last thing you see as a knife is plunged into your back.

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼

---

Shoto returned to the others with his mind full of the color orange.

He mostly stayed quiet for the reminder of their tour around the town, his eyes constantly drifting to the blossoms covering every inch of the buildings. Their sweet scent was almost too much. Their flowers thick with nectar.

The town felt stifling, he didn't know why, but perhaps his talk with the mysterious woman would clear things up.

Bachar leads them back to his home and holds a feast with several of the neighboring lords as guests. Shoto isn't eager to converse, but he does his part as prince and answers their questions and occasionally offers up one of his own. They spoke of trade between the kingdoms and the benefits their people might have if they worked closely together.

The Alshanun kingdom had bountiful amounts of herbal medicine, spices, and pastures full of cattle, while Todoroki’s kingdom had less greenlands. But where it lacked in greenery, it was full of libraries, a strong army to defend from invaders, gold deposits, and waterfalls that held water so clear you could see all the way to the bottom of their lakes.

A partnership could keep both of their people comfortable for years to come.

Night fell, and soon the group was off to their chambers.

“Todoroki?” Midoriya asks from behind him, his hand on the doorknob of his own room. “Where did you go? You know, earlier.”

Shoto remains quiet, his eyes shifting to his door. A phantom breeze brushes against his arm, eerily reminding him of a hand. “Nowhere.”

It wasn't in his place to question a prince, but it was in his place to question a friend. So Midoriya asks once more. “Are you sure?”

Shoto looks at his friend, his eyes roving over his face. He was worried, and it warmed his heart to know he had a friend who truly cared. But he didn't have answers yet. He couldn't reassure his friend without any information. All he had was the memory of a girl.

“I’m sure.” The corners of his lips tug upward. “Goodnight.”

Entering his room, Shoto looks at the wallpaper lining the walls and the stumpy candles lining the window sill. With a flick of his hand, he lights them, watching as the wax begins to melt at their center. The warm smell of vanilla fills the room as he changes and soon he is in bed, drifting off to sleep.

When he wakes, the sunlight is weakly filtering in, not yet a deep gold but a pale yellow that engulfs his room. He sits up slowly and looks at the window to where the candles had long been extinguished in their own wax.

He listens for the sounds of life outside his door, but all there is is silence. Not even the servants were up yet.

Shoto sits up and pulls the sheets away from himself. He had half a mind to stay in bed and wait until the others were awake, maybe travel around the nearby towns and meet its lords. But he didn't listen to that half.

Slipping out of his room, he quietly makes his way out of the mansion after dressing in simple black clothing. It wasn't what he was accustomed to wearing, not when it was the color of mourning. But it helped him blend in with the early risers already setting up shop, helped him not feel a fool when they waved good morning to him.

Wending his way to the fountain from the day before, he sits at its edge, looking into its waters. Vaguely he could sense it, feel the way it would turn to ice beneath his touch. How its side would frost.

He doesn't notice you as you look over his shoulder at the water. Doesn't see your reflection until you're smiling at him.

“Hello again princeling.” You step back just as the stranger in front of you whips his head back. His eyes widen before they narrow, his lips a flat line.

“Hello.” He says warily, his eyes flickering to your orange and saffron clothing. “Why are you dressed like that?”

You sit next to him, undisturbed by how he looks at you. As if you were doing something out of line. He truly was a prince, one who obviously wasn't very social. “That’s the wrong question. I’ll grant you one answer.”

“Why do you speak like this? What are you hiding?”

“Wrong again princeling.”

Small ice crystals prick at his skin as a small pout forms on his face, a crease building between his brows. You hold in a smile as you see the gears turning in his head. You rarely got to have fun, and it was amusing seeing him so confused.

“Who are you?”

You let your smile show. Finally, he got it right. “I am the Alshanun Iraziz. The Sun Saint.”

“Were you always this way?”

Now he was asking the right questions, you muse as you inspect his hands that had folded themselves neatly on his lap, hiding the frost that was forming on his fingers. You could feel the power thrumming in his veins. The ice and the fire. If you were alive, you would have been concerned at how easily he might set you alight or freeze the blood in your veins. But you were an Iraziz, a Saint, and his gifts held no sway over you.

“No. I used to be just like you. Alive with a beating heart. I used to wear black, just like you. Now, all I ever wear is this.” You look at your silk slippers and the folds of your skirts embroidered with gold string. It was the most expensive thing you ever had in life. A gift from the High Priest that had ended your life, giving you this life in its place.

“What is your name?”

So much for one answer, you think to yourself. But it had been so long since you've spoken with anyone.

“I’ve forgotten my true one.” You dip your hand in the waters of the fountain, the cool waters soothing your warm skin. It was always so warm around this time of year, even when the sun was at its weakest. “I didn't know to hold it close, the day I became the Alshanun Iraziz was the same day I lost my name. I don't suppose I’ll ever get it back now.” It had been too long. Your people were long gone and replaced with their descendants. The faces you looked at now were watered down versions of your kin.

“What is your name?” You ask him, looking at his face to find him staring at your hand and the waters that didn't shift with your touch.

“Todoroki Shoto.”

You hum. “Todoroki. I’ve heard of it before. When your family was still only lords, not kings and queens.”

Todoroki’s face turns considering. “You've been alive a long time.”

“Alive is one way of putting it.”

“Then how did you come to be? Is your gift to be an undead? A shadow?”

“I’m glad you still believe I’m some form of alive, but I assure you, my life was snuffed ages ago.” There was no bitterness in your voice, you had long ago come to accept your fate. “I was sacrificed to become the new Iraziz, my people decided my fate long before your kingdom was unified.”

You feel his ice before it crawls into the water, freezing the fountain as a look of diluted horror crosses his face. “Your own people let you die?”

You chuckle. “It’s not unlike parting your meal for your gods, or offering them a glass of wine. Or how you dedicate a moment of your day in prayer for good fortune. My people gave me to the Sun, praying for a miracle. When my life was taken, a new one was given.”

“Were you.. the first?” The ice behind you slowly melts, a hiss of steam telling you the prince was undoing his work.

Now you can feel the old ache. The ghostly touch of your mothers hands as she fixed your hair, the feeling of your fathers fingers curling around your own.

“No. I wasn't.”

So many girls had gone through the same ritual. So many had their lives ripped away like pins in the hair. “I am, however, the last. After me, no other girls have been sacrificed.”

“Why?” What stopped them? You can see the unspoken question in his eyes.

“Each year, my spirit withers and turns weak, which is why they replaced the Iraziz each year with a new girl, a fresh spirit. But I’ve held onto this life, I’ve preformed miracles to show I’m still here. So no other girl has to die.”

The bubbling of the water fountain speaks for the both of you as you watch the people in their shops, readying their wares. No matter what their ancestors did to you, you held no hate for them in your heart. You could feel the remnants of rage that the girls before you held, but you had no such reservations.

Todoroki watches your people with you, his eyes distant and unfeeling. You didn't understand what he was thinking, but you could feel. Feeling wasn't your gift, not like how his gift was ice and fire, but you were always open to others feelings. So susceptible. It was heightened now in death.

“What is it you're thinking of princeling?” You ask.

“You said something when we meant yesterday. That I needed you.”

“I did.”

“Why do you think I need you?”

“You're lonely. You feel lost, like a ghost in a living body. Something is holding you prisoner.”

He glances at you from the side. “I’m not lost.”

“Then why do you have this look in your eyes, like you wish to be somewhere else. I felt a kindred spirit in you when I first crossed paths with you. Can you say you didn't feel the same?”

He doesn’t agree, but he doesn't disagree either. He simply stands up and begins to pace around the fountain, his hands clasped together behind him.

You lay down on the stones of the fountain, watching his pacing. As a saint, you couldn't help but feel pulled to the needy. It was strange knowing he needed you. That a prince could be so deeply wounded that he needed a saint’s help. But you couldn't rest until he was happy, until that dark ache inside of him was soothed.

“I.. I do not need you.” He says aloud, stopping across from you, the water fountain blocking your view of him. “I’ve already let go.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” You whisper, “I can feel you calling out. But I will be here for when you need me.”

“I don't-”

But you were already gone, and the sun was looming gold over the land.

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indigobackfire · 3 years

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26 and 30 for aspen and Diego!! -thimblerigshuffle

Thanks @thimblerigshuffle <3 <3

30) Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks they look super cute?

Aspen would definitely be embarrassed because she most certainly spent several years mocking Indigo and her glasses lovingly ofc. But then Diego would be all loving brushing her hair behind her ear, going "What's the shame in wanting to see the world clearer?" "Don't worry, we'll still be kissing eyes closed."

26) Who kissed first?

Aspen kissed Diego first. Given this opportunity, I'll try and write it 🙈 (damn is longer than I intended oops) (takes place in y6 during winter).

“Blimey, it’s dreich out here! Is this really a good idea?” Aspen asks.

Diego marches through the crisp cold air of the training grounds with confidence and excitement as if he was under the spring sun, not even his thick sweaters seemed to limit his movement. Aspen on the other hand kept her steps short on the sheet of snow and herself retracted under her two layers of sweatshirts and her chunkiest Slytherin scarf.

“Have I ever had a bad idea? Don’t answer.”

“Ya ken we can use the dueling club room.”

“It’s occupied.”

“Ugh! What about the Dragon Club?”

“They don’t appreciate my dueling very much over there since Indigo and I smashed the place. We apologized, fixed the mess up, but they’re not the most forgiving kind, unfortunately.” He turns around and holds a stance, signaling for her to stay in place, about three meters apart. “Besides, I want to duel you here!”

“But why!? It’s like two degrees right now!”

“You think a dark wizard would invite you in for a fight? ‘Oh, please, the weather is dreadful, let’s move this inside.’ I want you to get used to dueling under adverse circumstances. And with that attitude, I can’t help but wonder, are you even a Scotswoman?”

“Wow, now you—” She unwraps her scarf letting it loose around her neck, if he hadn’t such a pretty face she would’ve walked straight to him and shoved her wand in his eye. “Now you’ve offended my honour!”

“Ready your wand then!”

But Aspen wasn’t prepared, he shoots an Incendio that misses her for a hair’s distance.

“Diego!”

He smirks opening his arms. “Thought you might want a little heat.”

She shouts an Immobulus his way, but he ducks and sends an Expelliarmus making her wand fly over her head, falling behind her. Now, if she could stop and focus on something instead of her numb fingers or how her nose felt like it was about to fall off, she would’ve remembered his lesson on how to act in case a wand was lost, but her mind was still reacting to her body and instead of lowering to the ground, she tries to go after it on foot… on a straight line. He only gives her the time to pick her wand up before shouting, “Stupefy!”

She falls hard on her back and is left too embarrassed and angry to even get up. He walks to her. “What have I told you about turning your back to your opponent, Aspenita?”

“Is the duellers worst sin.”

“I even gave you a leeway, in a serious duel you wouldn’t even have time to process where the spell came from, you would be dead or worse.”

“Or worse…” She sits up. “Ah, great, my trousers are soaked! And my hair full of grass.”

“That’s what you get for not paying attention.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, ugh—”

He furrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, I think... ah, could ye…” And as he gets nearer, she pulls him by the ankle dropping him to the ground on his stomach. She’s cackling. “A new dueling rule for your playbook, Dieguito!”

He makes a both perplexed and impressed face to her, and as he kneels to try and advance towards her, she throws herself over him to get him back down, and with the weight of her torso, holding his arms back by his wrists, manages to keep him down.

“Does the snow feel good?” She says between teeth, pressing him down on the icy grass with her own body.

He struggles to free his wrists from her grip. “When did you get that strong?”

“Barnaby’s my best friend… or was, ah dinnae ken. I might’ve lost a couple of brain cells, but at least I put on some muscle. By seventh year I’ll be just as ripped.”

“Has Indigo and him… resolved their issues? Whatever they are.”

Aspen crosses her fingers and rests her chin on his chest, she can feel his heartbeat under her hands. “He refuses to tell me what’s wrong and she’s out acting like everything’s fine when it’s not. So no, they haven’t resolved a thing.”

“Barnaby still shows up for our fortnightly training but he’s usually quiet. Very strange for Barnaby, but on the other side, he’s never had a better performance before.”

“It breaks my heart to see them apart…If there was a pair that made me believe in true love, it was them.”

“Then there’s Phoenix and Ismelda—”

She holds his face. “Now, you stop. It’s frustrating enough the stuff with Indie and Barney, and now there’s also those two idiots—”

He holds her hands away from his face. “Ugh, your hands feel like ice needles!”

“And how are yours warm!? Bastard!”

He laughs making his chest vibrate against hers. “I’m always pipping hot, dear.”

“Blergh!”

Still holding her hands, he nears it to his mouth and blows hot breaths on them, her eyes focused on the plump of his lips, all the while her stomach flutters with snowflake-like butterflies. “And what about you?”

She blinks. “What about me?”

“Your relative’s hearts are breaking like glass, but how’s yours?”

She swallows hard. “You really asking me this? Seriously?”

He holds her hands against his lips, his voice comes as if a whisper. “I wanna know if I still hold possession of your heart.”

She drops her head to his chest. “I don’t wanna give you something you can’t hold… but it’s not like you don’t already have it.”

“Indigo asked patience of me and I’m attending to her request cause I too want what’s best for you. I’m still earning her trust in this regard. You’re too young and I might’ve not given the best examples in the past.”

“Too young my arse! You’re barely two years older.” She scoops up until they’re nose to nose, and the air in Diego’s lungs feels rarer. “I’m no bairn, Diego, I ken I want to be with ye, why isn’t that enough?”

“I love you too much to screw this up with haste.”

She opens up a smile with joy blossoming in her chest. “You… you love me?”

“Why you think I haven’t even looked the way of another girl? I’ll wait for you, the time I have to wait. Because there’ll come a time it won’t be an option to wait, we both know that.”

At the same time the weight of the world left her shoulders, a hot burden grew in her chest — laying as they were, even encapsulated in freezing air and with soaked bottoms, she couldn’t stop her blushing cheeks, the redness spreading to her whole face, speechless, leaving Diego to wonder if she was okay.

But before he could ask, she presses her lips against his and he doesn’t feel like breathing anymore or existing beyond the encounter of their mouths. He takes her scarf in handfuls and opens his mouth for her tongue, mindless about her still freezing hands on his neck. The kiss isn’t sloppy but is desperate, considering how long their wait had been, every second of it had to be made up for in this right moment.

It’s her to pull away first with burning lungs while he fishes for another and another feel of her lips — she still had a lot to learn about kissing with passion and he’d be more than willing to teach her. She stops for a moment to admire the redness her kiss left on his lips and smirks.

“You might be patient, but I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait to do this.”

He runs his thumb over her lips, tracing her skin discolorations. “Who am I to deny you of your wishes?” His stare makes her feel as if she won’t ever be as solid as she is under his eyes. “Aspen, you have me, my kisses and my victories and my dreams and all my love. I’m all yours.”

She gives him another soft kiss. “And I’m no different.”

He smiles. “And I don’t wanna ruin our moment, but I’ll get a frostbite on my buttcheeks if I don’t get up now.”

“Oh, sorry, love.” She releases him and helps him up. She looks around the training grounds, empty unless for the training dummies on the corner white with frost. She chuckles. “Damn, we didn’t duel at all.”

“I’ll make an exception just today, cause I feel like my ass is about to fall off and because I won’t be able to stupefy this pretty face. For today.”

She wraps an arm around his waist as they make their way back inside. “Perhaps I better find myself a new dueling partner…”

He looks down at her with a smile. “Never.”

#flash fic #aspen×diego #aspen samwise #diego caplan #yes she tops guys #this is her as a teen bc as an adult she's out choking him xD #but sexy #hphm diego #ask game

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veliseraptor · 4 years

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Top 5 Dorothy Dunnett gut punch moments?

oh man. oh man oh man. Okay, this is like...a selection, of scenes that I thought of first, though as I was writing this I thought of like six or seven others I could’ve included and just. boy!! Dorothy sure does love punching me in the feelings.

but anyway, here’s at least a sampling of some that hit me every time.

1. The scenes between Richard and Lymond at the end of A Game of Kings. Like, I know it’s a huge swathe of pages but god, the whole thing just guts me every time. When I was in...idk, high school? Middle school? Both? I had this mental collection of “bits of books I reread when I want to cry” and this section of A Game of Kings was reliably one of those. It hits so many of my buttons.

When Amelia read it for the first time she told me it was something I could’ve written (not stylistically, just in terms of content) and I was like. I feel both honored and also called out.

Feature quote:

Lymond took his hands from his face. The blood was everywhere now; his torment of grief public, uncaring. “Must I plead?” He stopped in extremity, beaten, shaken by pulses, and then struggled on. “You claim your right of execution...May I not exercise mine? Could all the chains of Threave outweigh what I already bear, do you think? Or all the Tolbooth’s pains be worse than this? ...You can’t relieve me of your weight, or help me, or free me...except in one way.”

2. The fucking...chess scene??? I mean, there was a period of time - and still sort of is! - where just thinking about “come, my love, and say goodnight to the dark” made me want to lie down and cry. And now even more I think the immediately after where Marthe is prying Lymond away from the board and he’s...barely even registering his victory? The whole thing is just an absolute gut-wrench of a conclusion to the Lymond-Gabriel conflict.

Dorothy Dunnett, thanks for kniving me ten times in the chest, then kicking me in the stomach with the scene afterwards between Francis and Philippa where she sort of emotionally blackmails him out of committing suicide.

Feature quote:

And at the Gaelic, Jerott said, ‘Dear God in Heaven,’ and looked away from Francis Crawford, whose face was that of a man tortured with thirst, or lack of air, or the bitterest hunger. Then Jerott saw that the mutes were closing in, and that in a moment the child would reach Francis’s arms, and he began to run, to spare him the last terrible betrayal.

But Mikal got there first, and swept the child into his own embrace, all carnation and jasmine and soft hair and bright tinkling jewels. ‘Come, my love,’ said MIkal, ‘and say goodnight to the dark.’ And held him close, full of a sweet young compassion, as the little boy died.

3. The scene in The Ringed Castle where Lymond realizes he’s having a Feelings. I should, first off, say that I am not usually one for ~revelation of feelings~ scenes (though I guess I did just list another one for a recent favorite moments meme, look, every so often I am a sap). But not only does this scene have a line that I just think is beautiful (it’s the one about ‘feeling like a dog whose master has just died), it is also just...god, it’s the most painful ‘oh no’ moment I think I’ve ever read, because it isn’t this glorious recognition of a good thing but almost this...dread.

Too late, too late, it had happened.

The way that Lymond greets this feeling is with pain, and with grief. And it is just...a very particular kind of painful to read. Because of the tenderness surrounding it, and the joy of the scene preceding, and then...and then.

Thanks for making a “oh no I’m in love” hurt so bad, Ms. Dunnett, I see how it is. (It’s working for me.)

Feature quote:

He looked at her. The long, brown hair; the pure skin of youth; the closed brown eyes, their lashes artfully stained; the obstinate chin; the definite nose, its nostrils curled. The lips, lightly tinted, and the corners deepened, even sleeping, with the remembrance of sardonic joy...the soft, severe lips.

And deep within him, missing its accustomed tread, his heart paused, and gave one single stroke, as if on an anvil. ‘We’re there, sir,’ Nicholas said.

The air hurt his skin. His nerves, unsheathed, left him over-sensitized and defenceless, as sometimes happened: exposed raw to the touch of his clothes, as if his flesh had been stripped off with acid. He remained perfectly still.

4. The scene in Checkmate where Lymond, uh, “confesses” to Philippa. It’s a mess. It’s a mess and it shreds my feelings to pieces and leaves them in little bloody bits all over the floor. It’s just so much, there’s all this...like, it’s Lymond at his most insufferable making decisions for other people because he thinks it’s what’s best, but it’s also Lymond at his most self-loathing, and it’s like.

Okay. You know what it is? It is that Dorothy Dunnett does ‘close cut scenes with small numbers of characters crashing into each other at full emotional speed’ really well. It’s so tense - the scene builds and builds and the crescendo moment of Philippa breaking the glass isn’t even the end of it. I feel this scene as I’m reading it, and not just in an emotional sense.

Feature quote:

She was breathing almost as quickly as he was. But she kept her voice calm. ‘As you say, I’m inexperienced. On the other hand, you are not always right. Please listen. Please think. Are you sure, when it matters so much, that you know my feelings better than I do?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not infallible. You might, without my crediting it, fall deeply in love and for ever, with some warped hunchback whelped in the gutter. I should equally stop you from taking him.

She couldn’t speak. Her breath wheezed in and out. With extreme deliberation, and indeed restraint and moderation as well, Philippa raised her glass and dashed it on the parquet. Crystals frosted the carpet between them, and the wine lay like blood.

Speech came back. ‘God in heaven,’ Philippa said. ‘Do you think that I care?’

He looked up from the mess. ‘I know you don’t,’ Lymond said. His eyes were black, not blue; and there were red splashes on the white velvet. ‘But you must excuse the hunchback, who does.’

5. Christian’s death in A Game of Kings. The thing about Dorothy is the thing where she makes really excellent female characters and then kills them.

But I think Christian’s death is, in-narrative, one of the most wrenching - because Christian has been, throughout, such a good presence, such a positive presence, so determinedly steadfast and brave and kind - and the fact that her death is ultimately futile is just.

It makes me want to scream. But in the “THIS IS A MOTHERFUCKING TRAGEDY, I HATE IT, THANKS” kind of way.

Christian is, viscerally, a casualty of a war that’s not about her. And the way that her death is used, too - as a cudgel, as ammunition - just compounds the tragedy of her loss.

Feature quote:

Then Lymond picked up Christian’s hand and carried it to his lips, holding it afterward folded in both his own. “More than I ever dreamed of,” he said - and like the serpent she had once called him, snarled voicelessly into Kate’s eyes as she looked up, horror-struck, from what the girl’s lifted hand had left revealed.

For the sheets of creased paper which Christian had brought with such pains from Haddington, which Margaret had found not worth her attention, and which Lymond had at last received, were quite blank.

#sirjohnsmythe #conversating #lymond chronicles #sometimes i read things #top five meme

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diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 3

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Same day, later in the evening

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?” The Joker crawls next to you although he has an idea about why you look upset.

You’re on your tummy scribbling on a piece of paper and he can tell you are concentrating hard while working on the current project: writing down your name. Only got the first three letters then the rest went blank.

“I….I can’t think…” you intensely stare at the blue pen in between your fingers.

“Of course you can!” J reaches over so he can guide your arm since it’s clear you need help. “There you go… done. Now try to copy it bellow, alright?”

“Hm?”

“Try again Princess,” he taps on the sheet and watches Y/N struggling to imitate the word. “Well done!” The King of Gotham praises. “Wanna give it a shot with a few more simple words?”

“Mmmm…” you debate. “OK?...”

You analyze The Joker’s movements as he depicts four letter words, one of them getting your attention in particular.

“Love?” you smile, happy you deciphered the meaning.

“Yes, a basic…”

“Love?” you scoot over, more and more excited and it clicks for your boyfriend.

“It’s just an example for you to exercise and relearn how to write, understand? It doesn’t mean anything!”

You giggle and touch his nose with yours.

“Love!”

“No Pumpkin! I don’t love you, how did you get such atrocity from my note??!! It has no hidden meaning! I barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of like you and that’s it!”

You snicker and quickly slide to grab the yellow teddy bear, whispering in its ear:

“Love.”

“Aren’t you listening Princess?? Don’t start fake rumors!!”

Still…Y/N lives on her own little planet and her damaged brain grasped a wonderful concept despite The Clown vehemently dismissing his actions.

“Serves me right for being supportive,” he grumbles and resorts to diversion, the best weapon against your new found logic.

“Wanna read to me?” he points at the pile of children’s books resting on the nightstand: they are the best to use in your present circumstance.

“… … Read?... ” you ask, confused.

“Here,” J picks a random publication and gives it to you.

Might as well fully take advantage.

“Spoil me!” he buries his cheeks in your cleavage, guiding your free hand towards his green locks.

You never figured out how he doesn’t suffocate with his face glued to your skin; sometimes he sleeps like that for hours. Must be a special talent.

“The … ummm… the…. The duck…” you read the first page and massage his scalp, frowning at the words you can’t make sense of. “Cross… … crossed?...”

“Yeah,” The Joker’s mumbled voice agrees.

“… the… g-glass…” you stutter at the sentence.

“Grass,” J corrects you.

“Hm?...”

“Grass Pumpkin, not glass.”

“Ummm… grass…” you continue to read the best way you can and he rectifies your errors until no more sounds emerge: The King is softly purring, a clear indication he’s dreaming.

You toss the book on the floor, fed up with the difficult task of organizing your thoughts; pampering him is better. You slowly tilt his head backwards so you can kiss him: The Joker frowns in his daze and you pinch his butt, chuckling.

“What is it?” he opens one eye and you pull down on his boxers. “Princess, we had sex an hour ago. Do you think I run on batteries?” the complaint is fast to follow.

... … … Batteries?... …

You jump from the bed and stump to the closet, fumbling around for a couple of minutes before returning to a puzzled Clown.

You stretch the elastic of his underwear, dropping two batteries you snatched from the flashlight inside.

“How… how long do we w-wait?” you innocently ask.

The Joker bites his lip, attempting to contain himself yet he can’t: he bursts out laughing at your quirky solution while dragging you on top of him.

“You’re the funniest and smartest person I know, Pumpkin!” he cracks up, actually convinced he’s telling the truth. “Who’s my clever girl, huh?”

He’s talking about a girl again…What girl?...

Y/N peeks behind her and J reminds his baffled half:

“For God’s sake, Princess! I’m talking about you; you’re my girl! Can you get my phone?” he gestures at his mobile ringing by your pillow.

You give the cell to J, ignoring his conversation with Frost: you keep kissing him with the sole purpose of getting undivided affection.

“I guess Adam is here to pick up the cars you damaged,” he finally ends his chat. “Let’s go supervise the process. Don’t be disappointed, Pumpkin, we’ll have fun later. It’s your fault for destroying my collection!”

****************

The Joker watches his crew sweeping the concrete in the garage: broken glass, pieces of metal and debris scattered on the pavement after his vehicles were hauled inside huge trucks in order to be transported to Adam’s workshop for repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Y/N!” he growls, frustrated.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you serenely reply without a care in the universe.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Princess!” he huffs at your indifference.

“Love,” you confess to the fluffy toy squished in your embrace.

“I heard that and it’s an aberration! Why do you keep persisting with this nonsense?! I’m literally stating the opposite!” J admonishes but who’s listening to him?

Not Y/N.

“Nolan is texting me,” he changes subject. “He wants me to meet him at his warehouse to inspect the boxes of ammo for the deal. Will you accompany me?”

“Hm?”

“Car ride?” The King of Gotham simplifies his request.

“U-hum!” you nod, preparing to enter the purple Lamborghini which luckily wasn’t in the garage when you smashed J’s cars.

“Frost, if you see me parked up the street in the driving alley, don’t come investigate, got it? This woman’s been pestering me for extracurricular activities, might not make it inside the mansion.”

“Of course, sir!” Jonny finds it wise to consent to his boss’s rambling.

“Tell everyone: if the Lamborghini’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’!”

**************

You’re sitting on J’s lap, completely blocking the arrangements happening at the table: you’re more preoccupied with your game than whatever it is they are negotiating about.

“What are you playing, Y/N?” Nolan curiously inquires because your thumbs are surely moving at a crazy speed on your cell’s screen.

“Hm?” you stop and gaze his way.

“What are you playing?” the man repeats.

“Mmmmm… Tetrixx Bricks.”

“What level are you on?” Nolan leans over, his eyes getting big at the revelation. “Holy shit, Y/N! How did you make it this far??! I’ve been striving to pass level 98 for a month!”

“She’s smart, that’s how!” your boyfriend sassily underlines.

“Do you think that you can help me?” the guy slides his phone in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is this a gaming party or a business matter?!” The Joker scoffs.

“Well, we’re pretty much done: we accepted the terms, we just have to move the merchandise in the morning.”

You are already matching the colorful blocks on Nolan’s game, his face ecstatic when the obnoxious song announces with great fanfare: “Level Up!”

“Holy cow!!!!” he shouts and you return his phone. “Thank you!”

“Hey Y/N,” one of the mobster’s henchmen dares to voice his demand. “Would you help me too? I’m stuck on level 76.”

“I’m dead on 105,” another goon mumbles under his breath, stepping in the line forming to your left.

J would normally cut off this useless waste of his precious time yet he can’t deny the gratification building up in his heart: heavens knows how it feels to be trapped inside your own mind and his girl has definitely battled unimaginable odds to be where she’s at right now.

Living with cognitive impairment is not easy, but she’s still here and it beats the alternative.

“Good job, Pumpkin!” The Clown boasts at the long string of cell phones parading through your fingers while you aid Nolan’s team leveling up on Tetrixx Bricks.

And somehow his hands are holding you tighter, not even bored with the random outcome of his meeting.

**************

You escaped on the terrace for a break and J is discussing the last details with your host: tomorrow you have a routine checkup, thus he has to wrap it up soon.

“Out of my way, half-wit!” Derek aka Nolan’s oldest son pushes you. Would he have done it if you were the same individual from almost a year ago? Nope. Apparently he believes he’s entitled to take advantage of Y/N since she’s alone outside.

“Why did Mister Joker bring you anyway?” he lights up a cigarette, annoyed. “Stupid monosyllabic bitch!” he ogles your summer dress, swiftly lifting it. “Are you wearing diapers?” he chuckles as you walk backwards, trying to process what he’s throwing at you. “Come on, show me!” he approaches and carefully scouts the premises to ensure you two don’t have company.

Perhaps the neurons in your brain are overcharged for the moment; nevertheless, they warn of imminent altercation: the dude’s a total douchebag.

“Are you shy?” Derek grins. “C’mon, lemme see!! Oooohh…fuuuuck…” he bends over in pain when your knee unexpectedly kicks him in the crotch: you used all your strength and he drops down, curling up in a ball. “God…dammit!” Derek shrieks at the defense he didn’t anticipate.

“I…I’m not wearing diapers!” you stammer and because he landed on the edge of the pool you roll him in the water also.

The loud splash makes The Joker wave at you, glad he eventually found you: he’s been searching around the warehouse for the last 5 minutes.

“There you are! Quit playing around, Pumpkin; we have a swimming pool at home!”

You rush by his side eager to bail before the asshole pops up from the bottom of the pond.

“Sushi for dinner?” J suggests and Y/N is not the type of individual to reject one of her favorite dishes.

“I…I love sushi,” you smile elbowing him. “Love.”

“Don’t start with me again!” The King barks at your obvious hint.

*************

“Are you eating the last piece?” he glares at your salmon roll.

“No,” you offer the treat to him. “You…you need it more,” Y/N verbalizes her concern regarding his well-being.

“Can’t disagree, Pumpkin. You exhausted me you naughty girl,” J pretends to be super tired. “What can I do? Princess wants, Princess gets,” he inhales, resigned.

You’re not focusing on his whining: frankly, your intellect has been challenged enough for today. You cuddle in his arms while he chews on his food and watch TV without paying attention to the movie.

“Don’t forget tomorrow morning you have your doctor’s appointment,” J mentions. “I have to stay and wait for the guns I purchased from Nolan; you’ll have to manage without me. I’ll send an escort, deal?”

“U-hum.”

“Don’t yawn, Pumpkin. I’m the one that should yawn,” The Joker scratches his thigh. “This move sucks,” he pouts and turns off the TV. “I have a better idea,” he chooses a kid’s book from the stack. “Read to me.”

You open the textbook and although your brain is overwhelmed, you still make an effort for his sake.

“Mmm… Rainy… sky… Skies?...”

“Yup,” he turns on his side and nuzzles in your hair.

“Float over…hmm… t-town…”, your voice echoes in the room, soothing a worn out Joker.

Strange he can’t properly rest unless you read to him: after all J barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of likes you.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #jokerleto #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker suicide squad #dc #dcu #mister joker #mister j #Mistah J

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years

Photo

Extraordinary

from An Adventurer’s Guide to Romance Part 2 of the series collaboration between myself & @guardians-of-exo! Please go check out her blog! Her moodboards are *chef’s kiss* magnificent and she listens to me scream about plants while she fixes all of my horrific punctuation! She is wonderful. <3 Pairing: Yixing x reader Rating: M (for mentions of sexual activity and semi-graphic gore). Words: ~10k

The sun is just bright enough to be an annoyance to your eyes. Bringing your hand to shield your eyes in a mock salute, a smile graces your lips anyway at the thought of your herbs appreciation for the burning star. During your route, you wonder if your Coneflower and Thyme are ready for pruning. Chewing your lip, you worry they aren’t but hope they are. As more soldiers return injured from outside the city limits, your stocks of herbs have begun to run low. Dealing with the current threats to the Kingdom, you’re concerned that the growth of your medicinal herbs won’t be enough to heal everyone. Just one week ago you’d expressed such concerns to the Lady of the Palace, who promised to bring them before the King. For days you stressed, fluttering about the ward and checking your inventories twice, thrice, just to keep busy when you were not tending to the wounded. If your calculations were correct, you would run out within the month. Especially with the pesky Knight Captain and his recklessness. You vividly remember the moment the Lady of the Palace returned to you with a smile gracing her lips. Elegant and regal as she may be, her professional exterior faltered just enough to let you see the pleasant side of her happiness when she came to tell you the King had found a hopeful prospect of resolution for your concerns. Seeing the value of his people’s safety, he sent a guarded caravan to collect an Apothecary living outside of the city's walls to the North. One with a quirky but excellent reputation. That was three days ago, explaining that they’d just arrived and in two days’ time it would be the first day of a new contract between the palace and this new Apothecary. You giggle to yourself at the events that followed. The Knight Captain barging into the ward carrying his Lieutenant as they bickered like siblings. You learned she was part of the caravan and somehow managed to fall from her horse and break her leg.

She was frustrated by the situation and was every bit as loud as her temper, complaining about being bedridden for a couple of days. She went on a rant about who was going to babysit the Knight Captain while she wasn’t there, Chanyeol huffing with an offended look on his face.

Loud peals of laughter startle you from your memories as a pack of children chase one another across the street ahead of you. A shaggy black mutt runs between them with a tongue too big for its muzzle flopping out of one side. You see Frost Flower Inn on the opposite side of the street, laughing at the irony of its name while it’s lit up in the warmth of the sun. The owner moves across the porch, sweeping before the crowd picks up later. Sensing your eyes on him, he turns his feline gaze to you with a kind smile.

“Good morning Y/N!” he calls across the expanse of stone, waving a hand at you excitedly. Removing a hand from your skirts, you wave back as you pass, “Good morning, Minseok!” From the directions you were given by the palace Cartographer, the new shop should be just around the corner from the bakery. You sigh contentedly as you draw closer. The smell of freshly baked goods gets heavier the closer you come to its source. Several women are loitering around the outside, their eyes trained to the open walls of the building for something. Just as you’re rounding the corner you hear an angelic male voice greeting them, and they swoon. Immediately, you trip over something large, “Oh!” Careful not to land on it, you straighten and look back to see a man lying asleep on the path. A pair of round wire-framed eyeglasses lays cracked on the dirt beside him. Surging forward, you watch his chest rise and fall before touching his cheek gently a few times, “Sir?” He's out cold. He doesn’t respond to your touch or your voice, but you’re satisfied he’s alive. Looking around, you notice he came from the open door of a shop not ten feet away. You need to get him up. While you’ve had your share of moving dead weight into the medical ward at the palace, you’re not sure you can do it alone. Weighing your options, girlish laughter comes from the corner once more. None of those women would be of assistance, but perhaps the man from the bakery would help you move him without much fuss. You rise, looking around the quiet alley before you move back out onto the main stretch of road. It takes a moment of polite pushing to reach the door of the bakery, but you manage. Entering, you spot two men standing behind the counter, one older and one younger. You’re aware the establishment is owned by a father and son, and you can see the resemblance. “Ah, excuse me?” you call to them. There isn’t anyone else standing at the counter other than you. The older of the two notices you first. “How can I help you, miss?” he asks. His smile crinkles his eyes. Twisting your body backwards toward the door, you’re not sure how to begin without causing a commotion, “Ah... you see, I actually need some help? Something... heavy, fell over and I can’t move it by myself. Would you mind assisting me? It will only take a moment.” Considering your request, he turns, “Son, can you help this young lady?” The younger man looks up from the dough he is kneading on the counter with a curious expression. He pats his hands on his apron aggressively and rinses them before coming around the front of the counter. “Can you help me lift something for a moment?” you inquire. His smile also crinkles his eyes, like his father’s. “I can,” he confirms, gesturing for you to lead the way. The moment you’re outside, you realize the commotion the women are causing is for him. None of them make a sound as they watch him follow you around the corner. Shuddering, you feel their heated gazes like daggers in your back. “Ah...” you begin, scratching at your head and pointing at the man still sleeping in the street. The young Baker gawks, “What happened to him?” Heaving a sigh from your lungs, you pluck the glasses from the ground and pocket them before you crouch and hold each ankle in one hand, “I don’t know, I nearly tripped over him. I think he came from this shop,” you explain, tilting your chin toward the open door. With a strong, furrowed brow, your assistant moves to the man's head, gathering his shoulders into his arms. Lifting him together, you move him through the door. Taking in the chaos of boxes and crates scattered around the main room, you notice an abundance of shattered glass vials and a mess of brown colored powder on the floor and decide to investigate later. A staircase is behind the counter. “There’s got to be a bed upstairs,” you suggest. “Here,” replies the Baker. “Let me carry him then.” Together, you maneuver the sleeping man onto his back. As you move up the staircase, it creaks beneath the combined weight of the men, and you’re grateful for the help. Surely as you thought, a single bed rests below a window on the second floor. With your aid, the man is eased down onto it and laid on his side. The young Baker rolls his shoulder, releasing a huff, “Well then. What are you going to do with him?” Twisting your lips, you consider your options and decide to stay until this man recovers, “I’m the Head Physician at the palace. I can sit with him until he wakes up. I'm here to meet him anyway.” Running a hand through his hair to push it off of his forehead, the man nods, “Ah, I see then. You must know the Lady of the palace.” “Oh? Yes, I do,” you begin, pausing to question. “Do you?” His bottom lip juts out and his eyes flick around the room. “I met her last week,” he says. “She came to check out this shop. Something about an Apothecary to help the sick and wounded. She got a little lost and asked for help.” “I see,” you nod in understanding. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name,” you realize. He smiles politely, “It’s Junmyeon.” Nodding, you return the sentiment, “Thank you, Junmyeon. I'm Y/N. I appreciate your help.” He hums in reply, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’ve got to get back to work then. It was nice meeting you,” he states cordially as he leaves. Just before he disappears on the staircase, he adds, “Tell him to be more careful when he wakes up, please.” It makes you laugh as he leaves. For a few quiet moments, you watch the sleeping man. Or rather, sedated, is your best guess. You're nearly positive the powder on the floor downstairs is Valerian Root. Nobody sleeps that heavily under natural circumstances. You watch him rest quietly, taking note of his features. His ears are pointed just slightly, and his cheekbones are high, with a straight nose, curved slightly at the button. Even with relaxed features during sleep, he’s handsome. The line of his lips makes a shape you find cute. Having ogled him enough, you look around the room. A bookshelf full of journals and a desk are set up against the opposite wall of the bed, and a chest of clothing sits open at the far end of the room. Several pieces are spilling over the edge of it, and various types of accessories are gathered on a low table beside it. A large woolen rug swathes the floor beside the bed, and a washbasin kisses the edge of it where it stands along the wall. There’s also an impressive oval mirror leaning against the corner of the room next to it. You can see your reflection clearly in its flawless surface. The sound of stirring among sheets pulls your attention back to the bed, where the man is moving. Awkwardly, you stand in the center of the room hugging your arms to yourself. He blinks a few times and takes a large breath, yawning. The man sits up and puts one palm to his head, groaning. “Take it easy,” you comment quietly. His attention snaps to you, finally noticing he isn’t alone. Curiously, he looks at you, “Hello, can I help you?” You laugh. It’s not that you meant to, but his kindness immediately pulls the endearing sound from your chest, “Are you alright?” “I’m sorry,” he begins, coughing slightly. “Who are you and what happened?” You sit beside him at the foot of the bed, “I’m Y/N. I tripped over you lying in the middle of the street and brought you back here with some help.” He nods, knitting his brow as he remembers, “Ah, yes. I think I knocked over a crate of Valerian powder. Tried to get outside but I guess I breathed in too much.” That would explain the vials of broken glass and the powder on the floor downstairs. A swell of pride wells in your chest at your correct deduction. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble and thank you for helping me,” he begins quietly, still rubbing his head. “I just moved in and it’s been a little difficult.” He pauses when he squints at you, “Have you seen a pair of glasses, by the way?” “Oh,” you jolt, snapping your fingers together. Reaching into your pocket, you procure the pair of frames with the damaged lens that were lying outside. “They’re a little broken,” you state in a sad voice. He smiles as he takes them from your hands, holding them up to inspect the crack, “I can fix these.” Your mouth drops open in shock, “Really, how?” The man grins at you with mischievous eyes, “It’s a secret I’m afraid.” He rises and moves to the stairs, turning to look at you expectantly before descending. You stand a little too quickly, nearly tripping on your own skirts to follow him. Down in the shop, you hear him click his teeth, finding him crouched over the pile of wasted dust. “It’s no good anymore,” you muse aloud sadly, remembering why you’re here in the first place. The man stands up again and smiles at you. A dimple forms in one of his cheeks. “Perhaps not all is lost,” he reports wistfully. “Why are you so sad?” “Oh...” you suddenly remember you’ve yet to introduce yourself to him, “I’m Y/N, the Head Physician. That Valerian powder was something I was hoping I could purchase from you, among other things.” The man perks up, his eyes bright with understanding. “Oh! Has it been two days already?” he chuckles to himself, looking around the room sheepishly. “I got so busy trying to set up the shop I hadn’t realized it was time for you to come already.” “It’s okay, I understand,” you reply. He turns toward you fully, extending a hand. “I’m Yixing. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I look forward to working with you,” he smiles kindly. His dimple appears again when you take his hand and return the gesture with a warm smile of your own. “What else were you hoping I have? It's yours if I’ve got it. I can have more Valerian powder for you by this time tomorrow if that’s okay?” he asks, moving to the counter and reaching for his ledger. “I’m not open for business with anyone else yet, but the Royal contract starts today of course. I won’t charge you for anything you take with you today,” he turns around and pauses to meet your gaze. “As thanks for your help.” You realize your cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling for so long, “It’s really no trouble. I’m glad you’re alright.” Yixing, as you’ve learned, grins back at you with a wink, “Never slept better.” Both of you laugh at his jesting. You think the sound of his laughter suits him. Taking a peek around the room, you spot something you’re looking for. Yixing’s eyes chase your form deeper into the room where you reach up to pluck three sprigs of dried Thyme from the ceiling, “These will do.” His smile falters momentarily, “That’s all?” “Well,” you hum, looking around the room while tapping the dried herbs against your fingertips. “This?” you question, moving to a crate of Yarrow root. Yixing moves to your side with a small burlap sack, “Take however many you like.” You count two, letting them sink into the bag he holds out for you one at a time. Up close, now that’s he’s awake and standing in front of you, his attractiveness comes to life with the mid-morning sunlight casting oddly shaped shadows against his skin. When you look up at his face, he’s wearing the same smile and waiting patiently. You step away to pluck a string of garlic bulbs from the opposite end of the wall. Yixing follows, grinning as you drop them carefully into the bag, “Always a good choice.” “Can never have too many,” you agree with a smirk that matches his own. Both of you pause, smiling like idiots. You admit to yourself Yixing certainly seems interesting. You find yourself curious for what this new partnership has in store. “I think that will do for today,” you announce. Nodding, he shuts the drawstring tightly, offering it to you. “Thank you,” you express, taking the bag and turning to leave. When you turn around to look back at him, he’s leaning on a stack of books nonchalantly. Slowly, it begins to slide with his weight. “This time tomorrow?” you ask just as the books give way and fall from under his palm. He catches himself, standing up straight and looking at you with wide eyes, ignoring the mess of books on the floor, “Yes.” You laugh, shaking your head and waving to him, “I look forward to working with you, Yixing.” Passing by the front window as you leave, you catch sight of him inside the store. He’s talking to himself, repetitively pushing the heel of his palm against his forehead. Then, he disappears to the floor, probably to pick up the pile of books. With a smile, you make your way back to the palace. __________________________________________ The following morning, just as promised, Yixing has a basket with vials of Valerian powder wrapped neatly and ready for you.

There’s a gentle smile on his face when he passes them to you, and it grows wider with joy when he hears your soft gasp of delight. “Oh these are perfectly well balanced! Thank you so much,” you praise him, meeting his eyes as you pull one out and hold it closely to your chest. He laughs softly, maintaining the same happy expression. “You’re very welcome. I’m happy to help,” he says. Your eyes follow the movement of his delicate fingers as they push his glasses up the length of his nose. There’s a dusting of rose color to his cheeks. Before the moment lulls for too long, you wonder aloud, “Where did you learn such perfect skill?” Yixing blinks at you once, twice, opening his mouth and furrowing his brow before he sighs, “Ah, I just have a lot of practice.” “Was it a family practice?” you ask. His smile falters for a moment. He looks at the floor and sadly meets your eyes, “Uh, no. My family is long gone.” Frowning, you touch at your own chest, “Oh… I’m sorry for asking. I di-“ “It’s okay,” he waves a hand at you with wide eyes. Then he moves to sit on the high stool behind the counter, “They died when I was three or four. Occupational hazards.” “I see,” you nod sadly. Yixing clears his throat then, standing. “I um,” he begins, folding his arms across his chest and looking seriously at you. “I wonder if I might be able to come and watch you work? Or see your ward?” You were not expecting him to ask these kinds of things, but you pause, “Why would you want to do that?” He unfolds his arms and stuffs his hands in his pockets, “It will help me conclude what I need to focus on to help you to the best of my ability.” You’re touched by his willingness, “Yixing, you don’t need to do that.” “I want to,” he immediately responds. He refuses to let you deflect his wishes. “Would it make you uncomfortable?” You flush, though you’re not sure why. It’s a simple request to watch you work for the sake of providing the best resources for medicine. Medicine and healing are not something most people would think of as intimate, but most people aren’t in the field. There’s something about it. Something calm and quiet and yes, you would say intimate, about carefully practicing medicine and healing to ease the suffering. The compassion and bonds you make with your patients. Regardless of your feelings, you know it would be good to do this, “No, it’s okay. You can come.” His single dimple forms in his cheek with his smile. “Tomorrow?” he asks. “Alright,” you nod. ________________________________________________________________________ Tomorrow comes, but your stomach is too nervous to have any food before you begin your rounds. Three more soldiers were admitted to the ward overnight, having sustained Drauger-related injuries. You’ve finished redressing wounds on two of them when a knock on the ward’s door interrupts you from the third. “Master Physician, the Apothecary has arrived,” says the guard, turning to leave the moment Yixing walks through the door. He waves briefly to you before holding up a book of parchment and pointing to a seat at the desk beside the door. You smile and nod at him before turning back to your task. You pick up a mortar and pestle from the cart beside the patient’s bed, crushing and grinding a clove of fresh garlic. With a match, you then hold the flame out to kiss a pair of forceps for a few seconds before whipping it with your wrist to extinguish it. You pinch some garlic with the instrument and give the soldier a stern look before you drop it into the wound on his abdomen. He hisses and you can feel Yixing’s eyes shift from his notes to your frame. “Hush now and let me wrap you up. This will help,” you mutter to him. “Next time don’t go picking fights with undead, lest you end up like they do.” “Yes ma’am,” the soldier grunts. He watches you pluck a bandage from a bowl, steeped in thyme paste before he holds his breath. You lay it over the wound as gently as your hands will allow, patting the man on the shoulder when you’re done. You can still feel Yixing watching you as you pull out a roll of thick, soft gauze from a drawer lower on the same cart. Even though you can’t see him, you know his gaze lingers on you as you touch the half-naked man in front of you. You ignore the flush it brings to your cheeks as you nearly press your cheek to his pectoral, struggling to reach behind him as you wind the gauze carefully around his torso. Finished, you turn back to your mysterious business partner. Before either of you can say a word, another Physician moves into the ward with a woman retching into a bucket. The rest of the day carries on this way, until you’re exhausted, but you continue to work diligently to relieve the pain of the suffering. It’s well passed supper and the moon is rising to the peak of the sky before you are finally finished. Yixing, patient as ever and thirsty for fulfillment, has not left you. He did give you some space to deliver a baby for a woman earlier in the afternoon, but even the food he returned with for you remained there beside him at the desk. In the quiet stillness of the late evening, you approach his side, noticing the way the orange candlelight casts warm shadows across the bridge of his nose and gives a soft glow to his dark eyes. You pull a chair up beside him and collapse into it rather unceremoniously. There’s little grace left to be had when you can’t feel your feet beneath you anymore. “Long day?” he guesses with a dimpled grin. His eyes watch you expectantly as you nod, yawning into the back of your hand, “Something like that.” “You should get some rest,” he says. “A wild guess but I think you need to eat, bathe and sleep.” You roll your head back across your shoulders, smiling at him from the odd angle of your head, “He’s cute and smart? Who would have guessed.” He laughs happily at your flirtatious sarcasm but says nothing else, “I should probably let you get some rest.” “Wait,” you whisper when he stands to leave. “At least let me see what you’ve come up with before you go.” His smile crinkles his eyes this time, conceding to your wishes. Yixing turns to move the cold plate of forgotten supper into your lap with a raised brow, effectively fixing you with a daring look as he smooths his notes across the desk. You eat as he begins speaking, pointing out things he noticed about your preferences to different herbs and treatments and laughs as he explains an expression of disgust you always make when dealing with Ginger root. “I don’t like the smell,” you laugh and take a bite of bread. He continues, but you stop him when his fingers crosses a particular herb, “Ah, not Goldenseal, please. I don’t use it for a reason. The effective doses are so close to the line of poison and I have other remedies for what it treats. It’s also endangered.” Yixing nods, carefully pulling the quill from the ink bottle and crossing out the word on his list. “I would also suggest cutting back on the mount of Winter Savory you’re using. You can mix it with other herbs to help it last and it will have the same benefits,” he says before adding, “But it’s just my opinion. I can get you more Summer Savory if you need it.” You shake your head at him, “No, you’re right. I should cut it back. I just don’t have enough time to do the cutting so I mix it all at once just so I have any salves at all.” He smiles at you, picking up his papers and taking the empty plate from your hands to set it back on the desk, “Well that’s part of why I’m here now, so let me worry about that. You just focus on treating these poor people.” “What about the Fennel? Why do we need that?” you ask curiously, tilting your chin toward the page. He turns to you fully and regards you with a blank expression momentarily, “Well they’re delicious, that’s why.” You bark out a loud laugh and give him a soft smile, “Thanks, Yixing.” He nods and leans forward to pat your shoulder, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Turning to watch him go, you notice your feel more awake since he put his hand on you. Willfully, you try to pretend your heart also doesn’t race. ____________________________________________ Yixing comes the next morning and settles into this routine for eight more days as well. Every day you feel nervous about him watching your movements and curiously scribbling notes about your work. Always, after a few hours you forget he is there and act more naturally. He seems to have made some friends among other palace staff members. You had even seen him delivering a letter to your friend the Lady of the Palace once three days ago. Her smile upon seeing the folded parchment made you suspicious, but you’re much too busy to do anything about it other than be happy for her. By the time the sun is at its peak in the afternoon, you’re reminded by his gentle fingers touching lightly at your elbow to ask you if you could pause to eat. He always reminds you your health is important, too. What are these poor people to do if their greatest source of healing is out of commission. In the afternoons he works from the room adjacent to the ward, working hard to mix salves and cures and prep jars of steeping bandages. He also tends to your garden of herbs, watering and pruning at the right time. Twice you’ve caught him talking to the plants and giving them extra attention although at first you were not sure if he was talking to them or himself. You grow weary as the days drag on and neither of you wants to admit that there has been an increase in patients admitted for wounds caused by the Draugers. Neither of you acknowledges that the injuries are graver as the days go on. Somehow, he has met Kyungsoo, the Head Chef, and the pair have become fast friends. Kyungsoo spoils him with food every day as thanks for his help. You’re thankful to Kyungsoo in return. Since Yixing began helping out and making most of your salves and remedies for you, he has also made deals to ensure you have a hot meal at the end of your shift. Today, in spite of the fear beginning to seep into your tired bones, Yixing surprises you. He walks in and greets you as usual, but held in the crook of his arm are not only his notebooks, but a large selection of flowers are wrapped in a lovely color of paper and tied with twine. His eyes flick to yours briefly across the room while you place stitches in the thigh of a wounded soldier, and your eyes widen when you see what he’s carrying. Yixing avoids your gaze until you finish your procedure and are stepping closely into his personal space. You lean over him deliberately to look at the arrangement, “Did you bring me flowers?” He balks, clearing his throat, “They’re for medicine.” He pretends to look over his notes, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Feverfew?” you ponder aloud. “Migraines and headaches,” he clarifies offhandedly. You smile, “Passion flower?” You let your fingers pass delicately over the colorful petals as you wait for his reply. He grins but still refuses to meet your gaze, “Depression and blood pressure.” “Hm…” you muse. “What about the Paganum Harmala?” “The seeds are good for your skin, among other things,” he says with a shrug. “Camomi-“ you try but he cuts you off. “Same thing but better,” he states. With each flower your smile grows. “What about Sunflowers,” you ask. He scoffs, laughing and finally looking up, “You already know most of these. Why are you asking?” You shrug in return, “I don’t know all of their uses, and I just like to hear you talk about them.” He nods, lips tightening as a grin splits across his face. “What about the lavender?” you pry after a moment passes, even though this one you already know. He smiles wider at you, “Calming.” “The Sunflowers are beautiful,” you comment, running the pad of your index finger through the center of one. Yixing agrees. “They’re good for supporting digestion and your immune system. Promoting healthy skin, too,” he says matter-of-factly. “And the eucalyptus?” “Stress,” he whispers. You’re not entirely sure how all of these are going to help patients, and you panic briefly if there isn’t anything else left in his shop. Yixing, attuned to you after so many days of observing, immediately catches your rising concern, “These are for you, not the patients.” He pushes his glasses higher up his face again. He doesn’t say anything else for a few moments, letting you think back through each one and what he means until you realize how caring he is. Each and every one of these flowers is beautiful, and he picked them all based on their benefits specifically with you in mind. Regardless of your professions and the relation they have to your partnership… the gesture feels very romantic to you. Heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks when your head snaps to his and you stare at the dimple in his cheek while he smiles at you kindly. “Yixing…” you try, needing to swallow through the dryness of your throat. “You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you quietly. A pained moan pulls your eyes away from him again, and you smile gently at him before you turn back to your patients. _____________________________________________ All night you tossed and turned, your head full of Yixing and what his gesture meant to you today. For days now he has done nothing more than quietly observe you. No, that’s not all he has done. He has quietly observed you and acted on his findings. Making sure you’re eating and advocating for your well-being on behalf with other palace staff members. He has worked tirelessly to make proper treatments and remedies and even improved upon some of your recipes. He has admired you. You’re very grateful to him. From your bed, your eyes settle upon the sprigs of eucalyptus you hung from the side of your bath earlier, letting the steam of the water pull essential oils from the plant to help you relax. Slowly, you let your eyes wander away from the basin to the bundle you pulled the plant from. It rests, still wrapped in twine, on the plush cushion of an armchair near the door. Furrowing your brow, you realize you don’t know how to crush some of those flowers into effective benefits for yourself. Closing your eyes and turning over, for another hour or so you contemplate taking them to Yixing in the morning and asking him to teach you how. Surely he knows if he gave them to you from his own supply, and you happen to have a day off tomorrow. ____________________________________________________ The sound of someone shouting stirs you from sleep in a panic. Lifting your head from the pillow, you realize it’s nearly midday. “I told you to put it over there, not here!” another voice hollers back. With a sigh, you will your heart to calm its racing upon your realization that it isn’t anything to panic about; just staff going about their normal duties. You roll out of bed and hiss as the cold stone bites at your toes, padding across it with large strides to stand on the woolen rug in front of your armoire. Tying the knot of your corset, your eyes finally land on the wrapped flowers still sitting right where you left them. Your lips stretch into a giddy smile, and you quickly finish dressing and brushing back your hair. There’s an extra bounce of excitement and butterflies in your stomach as you take them into your arms and bring them to your nose. You laugh and pull open your door, intent on making your way to his shop, officially named The Honeyed Ram. The moment you step onto the main stretch of road in town, warm summer rain begins to pour down. It catches you off guard since the sun is still shining brightly, and you are helpless to escape it. Instead, you laugh as you ball your skirts in one fist and run down the street with your flowers. By the time you make it to the Apothecary’s door, you’re nearly soaked. Protected under the awning of the shop, you take a moment to collect yourself and adjust your wet hair as best you can before you push open the door. Hearing the bell, the handsome owner emerges from the room behind the counter with a his ledger balanced on one splayed palm and a quill in the other, “Welcome to The Honeyed Ram. How may I-“ He stops in his tracks when he meets your eyes over the top of his glasses where they’ve slid down his nose. He moves them from your face to take in your wet appearance, smiling as he sets his things on the counter, “Oh, let me get you a towel.” You don’t move or say anything, standing there dripping rainwater onto his floor while he hastily climbs the stairs two at a time. A moment later he returns with a large towel, immediately stepping toward you and taking it upon himself to cage your head in it with both hands. You can hear him laugh as he squeezes your hair in his hands, gently rubbing the sides of your face and neck with it to dry you off. With the barrier of the towel, you can feel his fingers run along the exposed bit of your chest to wipe away the water and your eyes snap to his the moment the towel is moved. His smile is gentle and kind and for a moment you wonder if he also finds you as attractive as you find him. You wonder if his fingertips brushing your collar bone and over the tops of your bosom make his heart race like it does yours. “Thank you,” you murmur to him when he is finished and satisfied, stepping back to look at you again. Yixing gently laughs, “You’re welcome. But why are you here… is everything alright?” His eyes move to the arrangement in your hands nervously, curious why you’ve brought them back to him. Nodding, you tuck them close to your chest again. “I um…” you try, but your pride makes it difficult. Yixing tilts his head, waiting politely for your answer. You sigh, “Can you teach me how to use some of them?” His eyes widen momentarily, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask him that. “If you want to, I mean. I don’t want to waste such a kind gift,” you blurt out, unsure of how it might make him feel or if you’re just reading into it too much. The man in front of you says nothing for a long moment, eyes narrowing as he considers you, standing there looking like a lamb. “I’d be honored to,” he finally admits quietly. The sun is suddenly overtaken outside as clouds move in and pour more rain over the kingdom. It pounds heavily on the roof as Yixing turns away with a smile, hooking a finger and beckoning you to follow. His work room is small but cozy. Perhaps a little tight for two people to work together all the time, but for today you will make do. There are no windows in this room, but several sconces are placed around the walls with candles lit to provide a warm glow. A gathering of them rests on the table as well, dripping wax onto the wood. There’s a small alchemy table in one corner of the room, already warmed where a bright blue elixir rests in the center well, flanked by coneflower petals and an amethyst crystal in the opposite circles. A blue butterfly’s wing rests off to the side, ready to be added. “Come over here, please,” he requests, motioning for you to stand at the work bench on the other side of the room. He pulls some tools from their resting places hung on the wall above it and passes you a pair of small scissors. The next hour progresses this way, as he teaches you how best to prune the flowers and dry them out effectively without burning them. Yixing shows you how to grind the lavender, but your technique isn’t grinding the buds fine enough. He steps behind you, gently taking your hands in his own and showing you a better technique, curling your wrist as you press the blunt head of the pestle down, and shaking the mortar around after each press. You’re not paying attention though, too distracted by the feel of his body so close to yours, and his hands guiding yours through your work. You realize that he smells like nature, calm and fresh. “That’s it…” he praises quietly. His head is just over your shoulder, leaning into your frame so he can see. The sound of his voice in your ear so pleasantly makes your heart thunder in yours ears and your cheeks feel as if they might burst into flame. Yixing moves to lean beside you briefly. His hand settles on your waist naturally, thinking nothing of it as he reaches over to fetch a glass jar full of a white substance. He sets it in front of you and moves his palm back to your hand again. “Now let’s combine these,” he whispers, plucking the cork from the glass jar. The sound of the pop makes you jump, whipping your head back against his mouth. Yixing makes a sound of pain and leans back, holding the cork as he presses the back of his hand to his mouth. You turn around in the space between the table and his body, watching in horror as his hand comes away with a smear of blood. “Oh damn the Maker, I’m so sorry!” you curse, leaning up to take his face with both hands. He stills as you examine his mouth. The center of his bottom lip is split open, and without thinking you hook the end of your sleeve around your thumb and dab it gently against the plump skin. Yixing’s eyes search your face while you tend to his wound. “Where do you keep your thyme balm?” you ask him, eyes lifting to meet his, realizing what you’re doing with your fingers pressed delicately to his lips. Embarrassment creeps up your neck and you release him, attempting to duck out of the space. Yixing grabs your wrist gently in his free hand before you can run from him, holding it to keep you there between himself and the table. Your eyes snap to his tongue as it slowly peeks out from his mouth to swipe over the wound. You stare, transfixed as the wound disappears in the span of a minute. “Magic?” you whisper, immediately intrigued again by the quirky talents of this handsome man. “Just a little,” he confirms. Setting aside your budding feelings for him, you rise on your toes and grasp his face between your hands again, swiping your thumbs and fingers across his lips and inspecting them closely. The lips you’re surveying stretch into a smile and you catch yourself, feeling foolish as you release him. Yixing chases you, leaning fully into your frame against the table and forcing you to lean back as he moves closer and studies your face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to him, suddenly feeling foolish. “For what? You’re very cute when you’re interested in something,” he admits in the small space between you, and you can faintly smell the mint he chews every day. The care that he expressed the words with is not lost on you. Yixing is patient as he moves languidly, letting one hand rest on the table behind you while the other settles against your waist once more. His words paint your ears and cheeks in a rose blush, and his hand feels soothing where it rests on your side. His lips hover over yours and the warmth of his eyes is kind as he meets yours and waits for you to decide. The moment your lips touch you feel like you’ve been shocked. Guilt and shame flood through you and you gasp, covering your own lips with your fingertips. Your body screams at you to run. So you do. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” you choke out, turning on your heel to leave Yixing and The Honeyed Ram. ________________________________________ Yixing doesn’t come to the palace for the next two days. Part of you wonders if he feels upset with you or if he is just as kind as ever and wants to give you space. All of you wonders if you’ve screwed it all up because you let your job get in the way of your feelings for him. Or is it the other way around? Refusing to stew in your turmoil over the situation, you work. Around the clock you tend to the wounded and sick. It’s nearly midnight when you close the curtain on the last patient you needed to see, after giving him a heavy dose of Valerian powder and Poppy to knock him out while you sewed his shoulder shut. You’ve just sat down at the desk when someone quietly enters the ward. “Y/N,” the voice calls. It’s deep and husky; one that you know as you look up to see the Knight Captain standing inside the room. “Chanyeol?” you question, curiously looking him over. “What can I do for you now?” you shoot him a grin even though you’re exhausted. He isn’t dressed in his uniform, off duty for the evening, as he lifts his shirt to reveal a nasty bruise blooming across his ribs and abdomen. “Just got back today,” he says bitterly. “And?” you ask, curious about the battles he has fought. “Still no good. We didn’t lose anyone, but they’re getting smarter. I don’t think it’s just Draugers acting on their own. They’re too coordinated for that, it’s unusual,” he admits, looking sour. You nod at him, “Roll that cart over, will you? Pull up a chair, too. I don’t think you need to stay.” He does as requested and pulls his tunic over his head to let you work. “Anywhere else I need to see?” you ask as you attach bandages soaked in blended Aloe Vera and Catnip to his ribs. The tips of his ears and his cheeks are red as he shakes his head at you. “What about that bruise?” you wonder aloud, pointing to a dark circle in the space between his jaw and ear. He sighs, grinning with defeat, “Ah, no. That one’s okay.” You rise, motioning for him to stand as well so you can wrap the dressing around his torso. Chanyeol lifts his arms to allow you the freedom to work. He hisses as your fingers press the dressing into his back. Curiously, you peek behind him to see long lines of red scratches down his shoulders. “Maker’s breath Chanyeol. What did she do to you?” He laughs gruffly, “She begged me to fuck her into oblivion, so I did.” His comment earns him a smack across the top of his head and a sharp glare. “What about you, then, huh?” he mocks instead, “Don’t act like you haven’t got it bad for that Apothecary.” You gawk at him, floundering for words until none come and he blinks at you expectantly with his wide eyes. “What?” Chanyeol inquires, aware by your actions that something has happened. “He um…” you try, fishing for words to explain. “We…” You huff, looking at the floor and covering your face with both hands. “I’m not even sure if I can call it a kiss,” you trail off. “A kiss?” Chanyeol says loudly through the fabric of his tunic as he attempts to get it back over his head. You hiss at him, “Quiet.” “Sorry.” With a deep sigh, “Kind of, I don’t know. It was like the moment our lips touched I freaked out.” Chanyeol hums, “Why?” Your hands sweep widely around the ward to all of the closed curtains of occupied beds, “This is why. I can’t be off doing that when all of this is so important.” “Do you like him?” he quizzes instead. You nod in response, pouting at yourself. “Then let it happen. You’re not the type to shirk your duties, you’re too responsible for that.” Chanyeol’s honesty about your ethics makes you smile even if you feel like a fool. “Thanks,” you say. Chanyeol nods at you as you help him adjust his clothing over the bandages, plucking the fabric to fall correctly on his frame. “He brought me flowers,” you muse quietly. Chanyeol’s brows raise, “Oh?” You fight a gentle smile breaking across your cheeks, “It was more than just flowers.” The man in front of you remains silent, waiting for you to explain. “Every flower he brought is a remedy for something he thought I might be suffering from. Fatigue, stress, imbalance, anxiety.” “Oh,” Chanyeol says with a quiet whistle. “That is something,” he confirms. “Yeah,” is all you can manage. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?” says the Knight Captain as he reaches for the door. ______________________________________________ The following day everything seems to be normal, sans the presence of the curious Yixing. Well, as normal as they can be when your kingdom is suffering a scourge of undead Draugers that seem more powerful and numerous than usual. That is, until the evening rolled around and two Physician assistants and another soldier burst through the door of the ward carrying a man screaming in agony. Dark blood, nearly black, spills from his sides along with… oh. Oh Maker that’s his intestines. Your body reacts automatically, propelling you forward to help them heave his convulsing form onto a bed. “Get that cart over here now and give me a basin of water!” you shout at the assistants. They disperse, leaving you and the soldier at opposite sides of his bed. “What happened?” you bark at the healthier man. “Um,” he starts, lip quivering as he doesn’t know what to say in his shock. Your tongue feels as sharp as your eyes as you begin cutting away the clothing of the bleeding man, “Spit it out.” “He was fine,” he tries. “Just got back from the latest battalion. Had some minor wounds and scratches but he wasn’t sick.” Water sloshes over the side of the basin as you dunk a rag into the depths of steaming water with urgency, squeezing some out onto the floor before you press it as gently as possible to his side. “I need a spool of gut thread and a candle,” you order the assistants, ripping open a drawer and procuring a vial of dried minced garlic. The soldier continues, “We were just walking back from the mess hall when he doubled over and then his skin burst open like this.” ________________________________________ Six hours later, you’re seated in Frost Flower Inn with three empty pints in front of you. You twirl a goblet of mulled wine between your fingers, staring into the deep crimson liquid. A bad idea to switch to this since it reminds you of blood. You’d seen too much blood today. Too much blood that ended in a loss of life anyway when you couldn’t get the tissue to stitch. You replay the scene in your head over and over. Hearing him scream as your thread ripped back through the necrotic skin of his side like butter, no matter how gentle you tried to be. It makes you shiver, fighting down the bile that rises in your throat. “Y/N, are you going to be okay?” a voice asks. You glance up to see someone leaning toward you from the opposite side of the table, but you don’t raise your head. Thick leather cuffs garnish the wrists of this man. Whoever it is, they sit, and two feline eyes peek into your field of vision as he drops his head onto the table to look at you. “I’ve never seen you in here drinking more than one pint, and certainly not of your own will,” Minseok observes as he watches you. A miniscule part of you hates how observant he is. You groan around another mouthful of wine, raising your brows at him as you knock it back, “I just want to be left alone.” “Trouble in paradise?” Asks a new voice. One you don’t recognize as well, but when you meet the eyes of its owner, you are vaguely familiar with his face. Something about arrows calls to your mind when you see him. Minseok sighs, “I’m not going to let you have another if you don’t tell me what’s got you so drunk.” You lower your head, jutting your bottom lip in your best pout to serve him a glare, “Don’t you like coin though?” The shorter man laughs happily at your honesty, “Of course I do. How do you think I run this fine establishment without it?” The second man drops down onto the bench beside Minseok, motioning for drinks at the bar. “I’ll buy the next round, but only if you tell,” he promises with a curled smile and crescent eyes. “I hate you,” you mumble into the last dredges of your wine. Minseok laughs again, drumming his hands on the table, “No, you don’t. You hate drinking and yet here you are anyway.” A face without a name brings three frosted pints to the table and before you can reach for yours the arrow boy grabs it and tuts at you. You pause briefly, looking at the condensation begin to drip down the side of the mug. “Fine,” you breathe, and he passes it to your waiting fingers. “These Draugers are awful. Knight Captain Chanyeol says they’re not like anything he’s ever seen before. They’re too smart and too coordinated to be regular old undead,” you say. The men nod in understanding while you continue, “I believe it, too. More and more soldiers are coming back with wounds that are becoming truly problematic.” A dog whine breaks out as you pause. Turning your head, you see it sitting at a table with four women begging for a piece of meat from a plate in the center. All of them women are watching you, clearly invested in your story. None of them are wearing typical ladylike attire, either. In different styles of armor with gear and weapons- they look like an adventure party, passing through. Ignoring them, you turn back to the men. “I don’t know much about war or about Draugers but I do know what kind of wounds they inflict,” you say, vividly remembering for the fifteenth time this evening what you experienced only hours ago. “Chanyeol didn’t report any dead and all of the soldiers that were gravely wounded came straight to the ward when they got back from outside the walls,” you whisper. With a deep breath, you clutch the icy glass in your palms and take a deep swig. Closing your eyes, you explain in the simplest terms what you saw. “A soldier was rushed into the ward today with his intestines hanging from a gaping hole in his side. I tried to sew it shut but,” you choke, shaking your head and feeling the frustration and despair of the afternoon amplify with the alcohol. “His companion said he had returned with the party with minor wounds. Some scrapes and bruises, nothing too bad, so he never came to the ward. But then it burst open suddenly this afternoon. The skin was so black and dead my stitches wouldn’t hold.” You don’t dare to glance at the faces of the men sitting across from you. “It smelled terrible. Not like a normal healthy body. It smelled like rotting corpses,” you explain to them. “Then he died, screaming in agony and bleeding out all over the floor while I couldn’t do anything to help him. I didn’t even have time to give him a sedative and stop the bleeding.” When you lift your head just enough to peek at Minseok’s face from under your lashes, he’s wearing an unreadable expression. The sharp-eyed man with dark hair beside him looks like he might be sick. The youthful owner extracts himself from the table, leaving you to watch his back with a knitted brow. From your peripheral, you can see most of the adventure party eyeing your table. One of them is watching Minseok with a look of worry. He returns to your side moments later, expertly balancing a platter full of frothy mugs on one palm. He slams three down on your table and carries the remaining to the table of women. You watch, surprised when he bends down to give the same woman a lopsided half-smile and her expression lights up. In all the years you’ve known Minseok, he’s never been interested in women affectionately. Looking at the golden liquid in your melting glass, you think perhaps it’s been too long since you visited. The mood is still sour but Minseok and Jongdae- you’ve learned- have sat dutifully with you through two more drinks. You know for sure that if you try to stand you’ll surely fall. You feel emotionally charged. Like you’re hopeless and courageous all at once. Ignoring the warnings in your head, you heft your body upright. The hands that steady you are not your own. Nor do they belong to your companions. Instead, it’s the woman that keeps staring at Minseok. “Easy there,” she chuckles happily. Up close, drunk or not, you think she’s absolutely beautiful. She smiles easily at you and steps away once you’re steadied enough she’s sure you won’t fall over. You try your best to mutter a simple thanks, and she laughs cheerfully again. “Don’t worry too much,” she chirps. “We’re actually here to help out with your Drauger problems,” she grins, giving you a thumbs up with a hand on her hip. Another pair of hands takes yours and you immediately feel less like a piece of shit. “Yisthing,” comes out more slurred than you care to admit to yourself when you see his face. He smiles, “Yes, I’m here.” “Why?” you breathe. His presence feels calming beside you. Irrationally, you’re still irritated with yourself for responding to his affections the way you did. His voice is like honey dripping over your ears when he answers, “I’ve been here all along, dove.” The way he says the pet name is both softly pleasant and exhilarating. Through the haze of alcohol, you believe he isn’t upset with you. He wouldn’t be here with his hands steadying you so affectionately if he were.

“I’ll take her back to the palace,” he announces to the group. Minseok nods with a deep sigh, getting up from the table.

Yixing still holds your hand, afraid you might fall as you sway back and forth in the street. You trip over your own feet, bumping into the hard plane of his chest with a giggle. He smiles at your drunken antics, and you can very clearly smell the mint leaves on his breath with his soft laugh.

If you’re sure of one thing in this moment, it’s the feeling of this man holding you up, and how right it is. With as much grace as you can muster, you lean into him on your toes and let your lips touch his.

A surprised gasp leaves his lips. Slowly, gently, he moves you back to stand solidly on both feet. Clicking his teeth he asks, “Oh? So now you want to kiss me?”

You smile at him, nodding rather than using your words. Your pounding heart catches up with you and you feel dizzy suddenly. It feels like you’re spinning, until you see the blur of Yixing’s body rushing forward to collect you in his arms.

Although you wouldn’t know it, he carries you the rest of the way to the palace. He makes his way past the guards who try to rush at him until they realize who he is and who he is carrying. Yixing doesn’t know where your chambers are, but he can put you in a bed at the ward. Maybe that’s not the best idea though.

While he deliberates with himself, slowing his pace as he wanders down the corridor, two men step out in front of him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yixing politely smiles.

The taller of the two grins wickedly, “Oh, my.”

“Ah…Knight Captain Chanyeol, correct? Prince Baekhyun?” Yixing ponders, “Could you help me?”

The shorter man looks at you, cradled against the Apothecary’s chest, “What happened to her?”

“She drank too much. Passed out as I was walking her back,” he explains to the men.

The Knight Captain shakes his head, “But Y/N never drinks unless I force her to. What happened?”

His frown grows deeper as Yixing explains about the dying soldier earlier that afternoon. He nods, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “One of my own. We’re all a bit affected by the news.”

There’s an expression Yixing can’t pin down glazing over the Prince’s face when he glances at him.

“I can take her back. Go on ahead Baek, I’ll meet you in the training pit,” says the tall man after a deep sigh.

The smaller man nods curtly, offering no smile as he rolls his neck and departs down the corridor.

“Thanks,” Yixing replies, slowly maneuvering you into his arms.

Just as he’s about to part ways, Yixing smiles at your form snuggling into the warmth of the silver-haired man.

“You know she’s crazy about you, right?” he asks with a smile that looks a little sad in Yixing’s opinion. “She just has a hard time putting her work aside. Don’t give up though, she’ll come around.”, Chanyeol assures with a dimpled smirk.

Nodding, Yixing smiles gently, touching at his lips as he turns to leave, “I know.”

#yixing x reader #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #lay #yixing #exo fluff #exo angst #exo smut #exo series #an adventurer's guide to romance #collab with Mie

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hallospaceboyy · 4 years

Note

May I request Zelda x Reader where Y/N is secretly keeping count of where they have had sex with the ridiculous goal of wanting to be able to say that they have done it in every room in the house? And maybe Zelda finding out?

Playing Games

Warning for smut, use of restraints, strong language

The Spellman Mortuary is a large house, exceedingly large, larger than any place you’ve ever had the comfort of living in. Combine that with Zelda's insatiable sexual appetite, and it wasn’t long before you had done the deed in several rooms of the house. It was quite easy to do so, with everyone being out all the time, giving you and Zelda free reign.

Obviously, her bedroom was the first room. Laying spread on the luxurious silk sheets of her bed, her face between your legs, your fingers tangled in her auburn hair, your toes curled in exquisite ecstasy. That was the first time you'd ever slept together, and you hardly actually slept, spent the entire night flitting between gentle caresses, soft sighs, tender kisses, until things got entirely too heated and Zelda was roughly palming at you, filling you to the knuckle and stretching you blissfully as she pushed you to orgasm over and over. You'd done so several times again when you woke up in the morning, missed breakfast, and almost missed lunch.

You'd never forget her devouring you before the fire in the hearth, pinning you to the rug and kissing and biting at your bare flesh. She looked beautiful in the glow of the flames, hair alight, as if each strand were flames themselves, and her pale skin seemed to glow too, as she stripped down to her slip and pressed herself against you. Your stomach flips every time you think back to her straddling your face, the way you'd lapped at her hungrily with your tongue. Her intoxicating taste made it all too easy to wrap your arms around her thighs, securing her there as your tongue worked it's magic, kept going until she was whining and whimpering from overstimulation four orgasms later, thighs trembling on either side of your head.

Your libido made it so very easy to ravish each other at any given moment, in any room, when the two of you were alone, and you soon set the goal of having sex in every room of the house. Excluding the other's bedrooms, of course. You had some decorum. Maybe.

You make a list, crossing off the rooms you’ve already done it in. Zelda's bedroom, the parlour, the kitchen, the bathroom, and you smirk to yourself as you put a neat line through the staircase. You grow instantly wet as you think back to Zelda bending you over the bannister, strap on between her legs, your skirt rucked up around your hips, underwear around your knees, and Zelda filling you to the hilt. She had fucked you hard and fast, hand fisted in your hair, and your cries and screams of pleasure, cries of her name, had echoed throughout most of the house. There was something about her fucking you right there in view of the front door that drove you wild, the thought that somebody could come in at any moment and see you in a most compromising position.

You cross off many more rooms, squirming in your seat as your mind flashes through the images of each encounter, blushing as you remember Salem catching you at it in the garden, and how Hilda had almost caught you in her greenhouse. Zelda had clamped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, but hadn't stopped the ministrations between your legs as the shape of Hilda ambled past the frosted glass.

How Zelda hasn’t an inkling of your goal yet, you have no idea. She never complains when you tug her to a random room at any given moment and begin to undress her, weakening her with passionate, hungry kisses and wandering hands. The witch is smart, ridiculously intelligent, intuitive, but she's so very easily distracted by sins of the flesh.

Sex in her office had been particularly fun. She'd been busy all day, and you'd hardly seen her. So, feeling bratty, you clad yourself in your shortest, tightest dress, hadn't bothered with a bra, and most definitely hadn't bothered with underwear. You wandered into her office, locked the door behind you, and she regarded you suspiciously from behind the papers in her hand. You'd simply sauntered over to her desk, sat on it directly in front of her and spread your legs, delighting in the way her eyes had immediately darkened, paper floating from her hands to the floor, pen falling from between her fingers.

She'd punished you of course, for distracting her, left you with a deliciously sore ass after a rough spanking, but the ache in your cunt from her fucking you afterwards had made that all worth it, and you were already thinking of how fun it was to distract her as you shuffle from the room.

Zelda slams the piece of paper down in front of you on the coffee table, and you flush bright red when you realise it’s your little list, keeping score of the goal she knows nothing about. You think the game is up, then, until you look up at her and see the smirk curling at her red lips.

“Is this what I think it is, darling?” She drawls, and you bite your lip.

“What do you think it is?”

She rests her hands on the arms of the chair you sit in, and you swallow thickly when her hot breath ghosts your face as she gazes into your eyes, and you shiver at the gleam of mischief there.

“You've been excluding me from your little game. Wanting to fuck in every room. Do you really think I wouldn't absolutely ruin you in any given place if you asked?”

You bite back a moan at that, an immediate flood of arousal between your thighs. You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you lean forward to press your lips to hers, but Zelda pulls away, pressing a single slender finger to your lips.

“Ah ah. It seems you've very much been calling the shots. It’s my turn now, little girl.” You bite at the tip of her finger, and she chuckles. “You see, I could punish you for keeping me in the dark by refusing to complete your fun little list. But when I saw the only room left, well, it's just too delightful not to partake.”

The redhead grips your shoulders and pulls you to stand, tugging you against her, and then she wraps her arms around your waist, hands finding your ass and squeezing there. She brushes her lips against your jaw, and you tilt your head back, releasing a needy whine.

“Patience, baby. We've already done it in here.” She chuckles, nipping at your earlobe before pulling away. You pout, but your stomach flutters with anticipation as she pulls you towards the door to the morgue, and you descend the spiral steps with her, legs already trembling.

“Z-Zelda...” You whisper, gripping her hand tighter as you take in the sterile room. You’ve never been down here before, had added it to the list as a joke, more than anything. But you're growing wetter by the second as Zelda grasps your hips and begins backing you towards the metal examination table.

“Don't worry, love. Ambrose keeps it all very clean.” She chuckles as your eyes drift over her shoulder to the fridges. “They’re empty. Business has been a little slow.”

The redhead lifts you effortlessly onto the table, and you release a gasp as your skirt rides up and your ass comes into contact with the cool metal. Zelda grins as she begins to press rough, sloppy kisses to your neck, nipping at your skin, and you hear her whisper against you. You find yourself completely bare, and a soft moan leaves your lips as your cunt presses to the cold surface.

“Lie down for me. Be a good girl.”

You instantly obey, and you can’t help frowning as Zelda begins to restrain you with leather straps that hang from the table, the material pressing to your abdomen as she fastens the buckle. You hadn't noticed them before, and Zelda senses your confusion as to why one would need restraints for dead bodies.

“We found these practical to have after a demon thought it would be funny to turn the morgue into a scene from the walking dead. I never have found necromancy very amusing.”

You breathe a laugh, shaking your head. It's so very like the Spellmans to have to deal with something such as the dead wandering their home. Chaos always does seem to have a way of finding them.

You're entirely immobilised, your arms strapped down at your sides, and you breath heavily as Zelda spreads your legs, eyes roving your exposed cunt as her fingers ghost your slick folds, teasingly light, and you whine and buck your hips against her.

“You are a naughty girl, aren’t you? You’re soaked.” She palms roughly at your cunt, and then spanks it lightly, and you cry out, jerking at the sudden slap. She grins and does it again, harder this time, and you spread your legs further, your cunt throbbing mercilessly as her palm connects with your sensitive clit.

“Zelds, please...”

She hums as you roll your hips against her hand, pressing her finger firmly to your clit, eyes fixed on your face as you release a strangled moan, and then she pulls away, licks at her moist fingers.

“You like it when I spank your pretty little cunt, baby?” She breathes, and then she pinches both of your nipples hard, tugs on them roughly. “Beg.”

“P-Please fuck me. Fuck me. I need you to-" You're cut off when she slaps your cunt again, chuckling as your cry of pleasure echoes throughout the room.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N.”

The ache in your cunt is almost painful, and you’re certain you’re making quite the mess, so desperately wet for her, so delightfully turned on. “I need your fingers. Please. Fill me. Fuck me.” Your voice is trembling, hips wriggling and bucking incessantly, and Zelda grins as she presses two fingers to your entrance.

“You want these?”

“Yes!” You push yourself against her fingertips, groaning as they enter you, just slightly, and then your next groan is of frustration when she pulls them back.

Then she thrusts them into you roughly, presses her thumb to your clit as she curls them deep inside of you, and you're seeing stars, eyes screwing shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the way she always knows exactly how to reach that spot inside of you that has you reeling.

Your hands clench into fists as she pounds her digits into you, and then adds a third, and you tilt your head back and moan throatily at the way she fills you, writhing against your constraints as her free hand finds your breast, nails scraping over your nipple, squeezing roughly at the soft flesh. She finds a steady rhythm, her pace hard, blissfully brutal. A familiar pressure begins to coil in your lower abdomen as she fucks you, and you instantly crash over the edge when she adds a fourth finger and presses her thumb to your clit.

“Fuck, Zelda yes!”

The table shifts slightly with how much you're squirming, writhing against the surface and clawing at it as you ride through your orgasm, wave after wave of intense pleasure coursing through you. Your legs are trembling, and you plant your feet on the surface, spreading your legs wider, crying out at the way this allows her fingers to press deeper in your clenching, spasming cunt.

You're sweating profusely when your orgasm ebbs away, eyes closed and chest heaving. It feels as if the room is spinning, and you only force your eyes open when you feel Zelda's wet fingers brush against your lips.

“Good girls clean up after themselves.” She says, smirking, and you obediently open your mouth and suck at her fingers, licking them clean, and Zelda watches with dark eyes. Her eyebrows shoot up when you lift your head to take two of her digits entirely into your mouth, her fingertips brushing the back of your throat, and her mouth parts in arousal as you gaze into her eyes.

When she pulls her fingers away, you let your head drop back down and release a sigh at the pleasant buzz in your limbs, the throbbing between your legs, and you have no interest in getting up as you watch Zelda unbuckle the leather pressing on your stomach. You groan in protest when Zelda takes your arms and tugs you into a sitting position, and she rolls her eyes, laughing. When you look down at yourself, you find that you’re clothed again, although the way you're dampening your skirt reveals that Zelda hasn’t bothered to allow you your underwear. You smirk at this as you shuffle from the table to land on shaky, weakened legs.

“Clean up your mess before Ambrose comes home.” She slams a cloth and a bottle of disinfectant on the table, and you blush as your eyes drift to the puddle of arousal where you had just been laying.

“Then come and find me when you're done. There's another mess I expect you to clean.” You squeak in surprise when she grips your wrist and bunches up her skirt, pressing your hand to the apex of her thighs. The lace there is soaked through, dampening your fingers, and you bite your lip, smirking at the hitch in Zelda's breath when you press a single finger to her clit.

She pushes your hand away, and you roll your eyes as she brushes past you towards the stairs. “Get on with it. I’ll be waiting.”

#zelda spellman x reader #zelda spellman #caos #caos fanfiction

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