#like if i can’t write novels you’d think fuck it let’s write fics right

[donteattheappleshook]

CS fics by @elizabeethan you must read!

Happy birthday @elizabeethan ! @snowbellewells and I had the same idea apparently but you deserve all the love for your fantastic stories on your birthday! 

Elizabeth have so many amazing, beautiful fics and so I’ve struggled to narrow it down to my absolute forever favorites. If you haven’t read one of them yet you’re missing out and you need to rectify that ASAP - your life will be better for it, trust me

The Sad Baker Killian series

Never More Than I Can Take 

holding my breath for you

From the Beginning 

What can I even say about this series - there aren’t even words. It’s the softest, most painful, hearbreakingly beautiful love story. Sad Killian is always one of my favorites but who knew that adding baker to that would just magnify it tenfold. Ugh this story is just - I can’t - just gfjdakvdsagl. Read it. 

Overboard  series

Ao3

Here we have a beautiful example of our lovely talented shipmate thinking she could get away with only writing us a oneshot of this breathtaking universe. And here we are 6 installments in and if you don’t think I would devour a hundred thousand more you’re wrong. I need this as a whole damn novel that just never ever ends. The sad silver Killian and damaged Emma, the way you’ve written the emotion and the love between these two, the way you created such a full and complete world which feels so real and beautiful while still keeping our favorite ship so true to their characters - I’m in awe. Sometimes I’ll just start thinking about this fic and sit there for a good long while in amazement at your talent. Did I mention I’m obsessed with this series already? Perfection.  

Watch the Sunlight Fade

UUUUGGGGHHHHHH this fic. It’s like you wrote everything I wished Sons of Anarchy had been and then multiplied the amazingness by a billion. This one is so so painful to read and so incredibly beautiful. Strap yourselves in for a hell of an angsty ride that will be 100% worth it. Prepare yourself to want to murder Neal like you never have before. Prepare yourself to want to give Killian a giant fucking hug and take care of him. The way you slow burned this fic too is just stunning too and I can’t even get my words to work right in saying how much I love this fic. Everyone needs to read it and give it the appreciation it deserves because WOW this story gives me life. 

Steal Away

So there’s obviously a pattern starting here of @elizabeethan hurts me to the deepest part of my soul and I thank her for it. I was obsessed with this fic from the moment you suggested the premise and honestly apart from Overboard which will forever be one of my all time favorite fics, this might be my favorite of yours. This fic starts as a robery gone wrong and then becomes something so much more than I ever expected or knew I needed. It had me crying, like ugly cry in public but don’t stop reading because you need to know what happens next, and then just feeling so many things that I couldn’t do anything but yell at you about it and then I think this one just renewed my belief in love because you wrote their characters and their story and their emotions so perfectly and everything feels so REAL and heartbreaking and then so so hopeful. This fic is a masterpiece and I would (have?) read it a million times over. 

Spaces Between Us

I remember this fic starting with “do you think people would be mad if...” and man I think that is how you need to approach everything you write forever lmao. Will it make them mad? I don’t know but it will absolutely make them rage at your horrible villains, want to cry for Emma and be begging you to let our babies have a torid affair and then maybe murder someone (disclaimer: there is no murder in this fic- but you’d consider it a reasonable choice if there were). You absolutely broke my heart with this story, poor Emma trapped in her relationship with Walsh, the second chance love story that felt so real that I was blown away. I’ve always found it hard to read those because I couldn’t get on board with my ship breaking up in the first place let alone how they’d end up together again but then you wrote this fic and I get it now. And you brought them together again in such a beautiful way with all the angst I could possibly handle. You write angst so well but you also have such a talent with bringing happiness and love and hope back to the story at the end of it all and this fic is a perfect example of that. 

Between the Morning and the Night

Finally I had to throw this hilarious little fic in. I swear I’d have listed every single one of your shorter fics - there were so many I loved and everyone should go read them all but I had to narrow it down for this list and I ahve to say that this might be my absolute favorite of your standalones. The premise is so fucking funny - Will noticing the scratches on Killian’s back and Killian in full blown panic about David finding out just who gave them to him - dead. Of course, beautiful, talented, amazing author that you are you gave us feels like you wouldn’t believe turning this funny little oneshot into a truly stunning piece of writing. I love this fic so much. Like just: 

“Good god, mate.”

He turns, surprise in his eyes when he faces his friend and colleague and is met with his shocked, horrified expression.

“What?”

He knows he’s red and sweaty after a workout, but it can’t be anything different from how he always looks when they return to the locker room.

“I mean, were you attacked?”

💀💀💀💀💀

Bless this fic and bless you for writing it

I hope you’ll all go and read the incredible fics that Slibby has written over the last couple years (she wrote 54 in like 2 years???? are you real though, girl??) and give her the love and appreciation she deserves on this the most special of days!

Happy birthday again @elizabeethan you’ve been the best pocket friend a girl could ask for and I’m forever grateful that the fandom brought us together 

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s ​ @ouatpost ​ @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12   @anmylica   @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr @killiansprincss

#major cs fic rec #fic recs plural #cs fic rec #cs fanfic #cs ff #talented shipmate is talented #happy birthday my love!

[light-yaers]

Right Where You Left Me: Prologue

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, implied sexual content, flirting, eventual sexual content/smut, 18+

Find the chapter list here

Find Author’s Note and writing under the cut ☟

A/N: Hello all! Let me first of all say-- I am still finishing my other ongoing fics. I just wanted to post this after sitting on it for months and it's very refreshing for me to write between other fics.

Let me make this clear: THIS FIC IS ENTIRELY SELF INDULGENT FOR ME. It's cliche. It's straight out of a tumblr post from 2014. And that's exactly what I wanted, honestly. I've been dying to write a silly college AU for years and this all began when I found the old novel I'd started writing when I was 13 and I just thought-- I want to rewrite this, and make it intentionally cliche and bad, and make it with Poe Dameron as well. Yeah. So that's exactly what I did.

I'll be posting it weekly or so I think, because I just don't want to put more pressure on myself with writing right now. Writers block has been destroying me and I'm only just really getting out of it. 

Thank you guys for being so patient while I've been gone the past 2 months! Hope you enjoy this piece of crap that is intentionally terrible and written like a Netflix rom com.

beff x

Word Count: 611

Prologue

You remembered being upset; more upset than you’d ever been in your life; with a heavy feeling in your gut, akin to having rocks in your stomach, weighing you down to the point where if you were to jump into a lake you would sink—way, way down to the very bottom—until you became one of the fishes.

You’d never fought with him before, not like this. This wasn’t a funny insult that made you smack him playfully, this was two people equally hurting from the exchange they’d just had and the fate they just realised they would have to live, but neither of you could see past your own feelings currently. It was a recipe for disaster.

When your best friend in the entire world tells you he’s moving across the country in two weeks, what’s the rational thing to do? Cry together, make plans and promise that you’ll see each other soon, suggest going back and forth for weekends and sending letters to fill the silent void?

No.

Instead, you get angry at him. And he gets angry at you because you’re angry at him. Until there’s only red, red rage between you to the point of no return, to the point where he finally says—

“You know, I finally have an excuse not to be around you for every second of my fucking life!”

And you hit back with—

“Thank fucking god that I never have to be known as Dameron’s friend around your fucking awful older mates—,”

“Dameron’s weird friend, Dameron’s strange friend who never fucking leaves his side, etcetera, etcetera—,”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“No—fuck you!”

The silence is nasty. It sticks to your skin as both of you think things that shouldn’t be said out loud, but ultimately it fizzles down to you having the final word—after learning he’d never thought much of you, never liked you as a friend, never loved you as more, never... never...

“I can’t think of anything better than never having to see you again for the rest of my life,”

It feels like the world is ending, but you’re only fourteen and he’s only fifteen and you’re both so young, but you’ve been around each other since you were born and Poe was one and it just made sense. You grew up together, were essentially the same fucking person, but that made it even worse when you had this colossal fight.

You were both too stubborn for your own good.

The day Poe’s family moved away, you stayed home when your parents went to say goodbye. You stayed home and blasted music in some attempt to bat away the obvious feelings coursing through you—

Until it was too much.

You didn’t even bother wearing shoes as you raced to Poe’s house in a pair of fluffy socks and sweatpants, hair unbrushed, eyes red and cheeks puffy from how much you’d been crying for the past fortnight.

“Poe!” even though you went back on what you’d last said, you still got the last word in. Even if that word was you yelling his name as you bombarded into your parents and other neighbours as Poe’s mom’s car was already speeding up down the street.

You wondered if he’d heard it, and somewhere deep within wished he actually hadn’t.  

You hoped he’d have a good life, make new and better friends, be himself every single day of the year and never apologise for it. You hoped, no you prayed, that he’d remember you throughout his high school years.

The day Poe Dameron left, you couldn’t feel your fingers.

And the day you saw him again, you almost fainted.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron #oscar isaac #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #star wars #college au #alternate universe #writeblr #ff #ao3 #archive of our own #wattpad #second person #angst and smut #angst and fluff #lightyaers

[bunny584]

hi bunny, I hope you’re doing well

First off want to say that I come from Heaven and Hell on ao3 and you have single-handedly ruined me with the way you write, I love it so much. then I come here and see your other works and keep digging my grave, you have us spoiled, truly.

Second, I just wanted to wish you luck on your work, it’s definitely not easy but so rewarding and admirable. You are truly a talented, hardworking and smart person. Hope you’re able to rest soon and unwind, so please take care of yourself.

Lastly and you can definitely ignore this, but I’ve been seeing priest Suguru lately (specifically polariae’s art of him) and thought of you… Obviously if it’s not something you’d like, you can just ignore this btw!! but if it’s okay to request, can’t stop thinking of reader meeting priest Suguru and the whole forgive me father for I have (and will tbh) sin…

Anyways I’ll shut up now, please take care of yourself and we love you dearly xx

-angel

Angel anon 🤍 you have my heart already. So many things I want to say I’m so sorry if it’s not coherent.

“You have single-handedly ruined me with the way you write.”

Well, fuck. I didn’t know I needed to hear that until this moment. You have completely altered my brain chemistry. Like it’s a need, not a want, to make readers feel this way. Thank you for opening up and letting me make you feel things.

And thank you for the sweet, kind compliments. I’m warm and fuzzy in all the right places. 🩵

Priest. Geto.

Angel it’s like you are sitting inside my brain scrolling in my notes. Another anon(s) requested a long, solo Suguru fic. I’ve been going back and forth between sacrilegious Suguru or tatted/drummer Suguru and you might’ve just tipped me over the edge.

There’s something so forbidden and filthy about mixing the holy and erotic and well…my pen thrives when it’s forbidden and hushed and nasty and tortured.

It might not be a novel trope, but I think..I might be able to do it justice.

#bunnyblabs #you’ve inspired me Angel #unnamed suguru fic lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 10

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon, pillow humping.

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: It’s Monday, ugh.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your curiosity got the best of you, more so your restlessness. 

After your ride with Lee, you couldn’t settle down. You gave up on sleep, late nights not unknown to any student. You flicked on your desk lamp and sat on the chair with a blanket around your shoulders and read a few passages before that peculiar twang made you put down the book.

The flagrant language of the lewd acts made your core hot and you longed for any touch to stoke it. You fidgeted and picked the book up again. Just one chapter… Lee was right, you were learning. You pushed the blanket away as you felt yourself sweating and you recalled that night with the sheriff, his leg firmly between both of yours.

You shut the book again and flicked off the light. You had a few more hours before you had to get ready for class. You needed some semblance of sleep to function and you knew another long night awaited you.

You sprawled out on your thin mattress and sighed. You closed your eyes and tried to drift off, tried to forget the lurid excerpts that kept popping back into your mind. You rolled onto your side then the other. You gripped your head and squeezed your eyelids closed. Just sleep.

You brought a pillow down and hugged it as you tried to get comfortable. The corner rubbed along your panties and a ripple tore through your core. You mumbled nonsensically and ignored the urge tugging at you. You couldn’t…

You pushed the pillow down and clenched it between your legs. You started slowly, carefully building the pressure as you hugged it tighter and tighter. Your breath caught and soon you were panting desperately as you chased that strange plucking deep inside.

You got up on your knees and kept the pillow sideways beneath you and straddled it. You rocked your hips as the wooden frame creaked with each move and you smother your voice with your palm. 

You bit down on the heel of your hand as you hung your head back and became the woman in the novel. You imagined a man beneath you, faceless, nameless, and the mountain rose before you. Almost there, just a little more--

You gritted your teeth as you came and slowed, nails sinking into the pillow as you shook and stifled the weak moans. You fell back onto your side, the pillow caught between your legs and let your arm hang over the edge of the bed. Breathless, you felt the heavy drowsiness setting in. You drifted off before the guilt could set in.

📚

The club meeting came to an end but you hardly kept up with any of the discussion. You couldn’t help but think of the last time you saw Lee and everything that came after. You didn’t know what you’d been thinking, why you did what you did. Curiosity, mostly as you tried to recreate that same feeling you got on the sheriff’s lap.

You didn’t realise your weekly session was over until the chairs scraped and bodies began to move. You stood and your purse fell over as you did. You bent to pick up your bag and scoop up the mess that spilled onto the floor. Another knelt across from you and snatch the red-spined book from amid the pile.

Andre held up the explicit novel and looked it over with a chuckle, “so this is what you like to read?”

“Hey,” you snatched it away and shoved it into your purse and stood, “no, I…”

You shrugged and dragged the chair back to the desk and shoved it beneath. You turned back to him as he watched you. You surpassed him as you headed for the door and heard him follow. Your skin was on fire with embarrassment.

“You know, it’s not really literature but it’s… expression nonetheless. I think it’s good that themes like that are being explored in writing--”

“It’s trash, I’m taking it to the donation bin,” you lied as you came out into the warm summer evening.

“Oh,” he said without conviction, “that’s too bad. You must be one of those prudish girls, then. I always thought so with the way you dress.”

“What?” you glanced over at him as he kept pace with you. You searched around for the cruiser but you only saw your fellow club members and the beaten up lemons they drove.

“Well, you’re not exactly pushing the envelope,” he intoned, “I don’t see you at any parties, either--”

“What does it matter?” you kicked a rock as you continued down the sidewalk. You kept your eyes peeled for Lee but you assumed he was waiting back at your residence as usual.

“Oh, I was just thinking you might want to come to one,” he suggested, “you know, loosen up a bit.”

“A party?” you asked as you turned onto Greek row, “I don’t know… I have plans and--”

“You have plans,” he scoffed, “are you that shy or that stupid?”

You were quiet as you didn’t know how to answer. Both, probably, you thought, but sniffed and kept on.

“I’m asking you out,” he said as you reached the corner of your street, “you know, maybe you can do more than read about fucking.”

“Excuse me?” you stopped short and turned on him, “I’m not lying. I have somewhere I’m supposed to be and-- and-- maybe I’m not interested in going out with you. You’re mean.”

His brows shot up and he tilted his head and laughed, “you’re such a precocious little thing, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you said, “but you should get out of here before--”

The siren whooped and you cringed. You heard the slow roll of tires as they drew up and the engine clicked into park. The door opened as Andre scowled past you and rolled his eyes. You stepped aside and looked over at Lee as he placed his hat on his head.

“What are y’all up to, tonight, huh?” he asked with half a smirk.

“Just talking,” Andre spat, “some bodunk cop like you can surely understand that.”

“Scuse me, boy?” Lee’s hand went to his belt, just beside his gun, “is that how they teach you college kids to talk to authority?”

“It’s how I talk to pigs when they oink at me,” Andre rebuffed, “now I was just having a discussion with this young woman--”

“Now don’t be uppity with me, boy, you out here making a public nuisance,” the sheriff stepped up on the curb.

“We were just talking, really,” you said quietly, “I was just saying goodbye.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Andre dismissed him with a wave and turned back to you, “well, why don’t you just cancel and come up to Delt--”

You gasped as Andre was hauled off his feet and spun against the side of the cruiser. Lee twisted his arm back and bent him over the hood as he reached for his cuffs.

“What are you--”

“You saw that, girl,” Lee snarled, “he swung at me. That would be attempting an assault on an officer of the law.”

“Ummm,” you blinked and clutched your purse, “I don’t…”

“That’s an arrestable offence,” Lee snapped a cuff around Andre’s wrist as he struggled, “don’t look good on your record, neither. Think the dean will stand for it?”

“Get off of me!” Andre sneered, “I didn’t do anything--”

“You sure did,” Lee growled, “out here harassing young ladies and disrespecting an officer.”

“You’re insane,” Andre’s tried to pull away as the other cuff closed, “don’t you have anything better--”

“Honey, get in the car,” Lee ordered as he wrenched Andre up then slammed his face back down against the hood with a sickening crunch, “I don’t want you to see this.”

“Lee--” you said weakly, “please--”

“You know… this pig…” Andre huffed in a nasally voice.

“Y’aint talk to her, pretty boy,” Lee warned, “or I’ll break your teeth.”

“You’re--”

“Shhhh,” Lee hushed him and glanced over his shoulder at you, “now honey pie, get in the front seat. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

You swallowed and cautiously went to the front door. You slid across the leather seat and closed the door. You heard them arguing before the back door opened and Andre was shoved inside, barely missing his head as he did. You peeked back at him as he horked up blood onto the floor.

The door slammed behind him and Lee got in on his side. He pushed into gear and took off from the curb with the squeal of tires. He glared in the mirror than looked over at you as his expression softened.

“Not exactly how I wanted the night to go but we drop him at the station real quick then we can have some fun, huh?” he smiled.

“You’re dating this creep?” Andre snorted from the back seat.

“Boy, you shut your mouth,” Lee barked at the rear view, “I ain’t tell ya again not to talk to the lady.”

Andre snickered darkly and shook his head as he hung it. He leaned against his cuffed hands and shifted.

“Fine, take me to the station,” he said blithely, “my father will have me out on the hour. Bail in these parts can’t be more than a penny.”

“Oh,” Lee sneered at the road as he drove through campus, “is that so?”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #laisse tomber les filles #the devil all the time #college au #au #series

[retrievablememories]

love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

--

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him. 

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest. 

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do. 

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

--

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

--

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them. 

--

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

#kun smut #kun fic #kun scenarios #kun imagines #nct fic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv fic #wayv scenarios #wayv smut #wayv imagines #ambw scenarios #kpop ambw #ambw fic #ambw smut #ambw imagines #qian kun

[hotdamnhunnam]

Shades of You

A/N: Here’s the next in this ‘Kutte Too Deep’ series of flashbacks set in the AU of Kutte to Black! These fics can be read as standalone one shots or as part of this ‘KutteVerse’. This one is just a short ficlet of fluffy smut about you being Jax’s muse and the two of you having hot passionate sex outdoors…

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, a fuck in the park (it’s a secluded little spot of greenery – no one else is actually watching but they could be in theory)

Word Count: ~1.2k

“Babe, can you do that again?”

You glance up from the book that you were just about to begin. In these few weeks since you and Jax became a thing, you’ve spent the better part of all day and night fucking, though you pause from time to time to take his Harley for a ride or something. Head off someplace far from all the dusty streets of Charming. Pack a picnic so that you can spend a lazy afternoon feeding each other grapes and talking. 

For today’s outing Jax also packed a notebook, as he told you that he’s recently been bursting with a surge of inspiration for the novel he’d spent years struggling to write. Apparently just finding the right muse was all it took. He wants to churn out a whole chapter sitting in this park with you, admiring the sunlit view. Promised he’ll let you read his work after he treats you to another epic fuck later tonight.

Meanwhile you’re reclining on this big plaid picnic blanket with the paperback you’d packed, to catch up on some summer reading. But your badass biker boyfriend seems determined to distract. You’re not sure what he means by what he asked—‘do that again’ when you’re not doing much of anything—you’ve literally just been breathing.

From where he’s sitting on a rock nearby with his manuscript spread across his jean-clad thighs, Jax catches the confusion in your eyes. And so he clarifies. “The way you blinked real quickly twice. It was just really nice. Your lashes looked like butterflies.”

Oh Jesus Christ. He’s so fucking adorable, it’s honestly deplorable. You swoon and giggle, playing into it a little. Batting your lashes theatrically and shooting him a sultry look. Still have no clue, just what he sees in you, and yet somehow his every move makes you believe you’re the loveliest thing in the world. “Now if I didn’t know better, Mr. Teller… I’d think you were sketching me rather than writing a book. Draw me like one of your French girls.”

He laughs sunny and bright, shaking his head at your reference to the tear-jerker the two of you just watched the other night. Never did Jax Teller think he would spend a weekend getting all sappy romantic. Asking his girl if she wanted to cuddle and stay up late watching Titanic. 

“Hey, I’d take any excuse to get you naked...” your tall blonde prince charming admits as he sets his notebook aside and strides across the grass to join you on the blanket, “but I promise I’m not a nude lady artist. Just an aspiring writer in love with his muse and everything inspiring about her because she’s the hottest.”

Jax brings his big strong body down to yours and then blesses your lips with a soft kiss to prove that he’s honest. Pulls back to adore you with his gaze of blue. “You’re in everything I do. I see the world in shades of you.”

Fuck—every word that he breathes is a sonnet. This love is a drug, and you’ll live and die riding high on it. “You’re corny as fuck and I love you.”

Grins darkly and grinds the stiff bulge of his cock against your crotch as he knows how badly you want it. “I’m horny as fuck, too.”

“Mmm, what else is new...”

Without words, with the crush of his summer-lush lips against yours, he replies though you already know this is true: Everything is shiny and new when I’m with you.

Every damn time feels like the first. Everything blurs, present and future ever fading into past. The thrust of untold fate—the rushed soul-crushing weight, the fucking curse—compels you both to take each time like it’s the last.

The man in him loves smooth and soft and full of slow sensuous passion. But the beast in him moves rough and hard and fast. The fucking sex god that is Jackson. Barely even needs a second or a fraction, for his huge cock to get rock solid once he is at half-mast.

Moan into his mouth at the feeling of his denim-covered length. Rubbing against the flimsy fabric of your skirt, so hard it hurts. His hand caresses your cheek, giving you the strength, to take this love that makes you weak. Love beyond words. Your tongues were made to tangle up and taste the truth too big to speak.

Sometimes he says it anyway, though you both know he means more than the words could ever say. Says it a thousand times a day.

“Love you so fucking much,” he murmurs and the love tastes so delicious, in the blissful midst of kisses, as you melt beneath his touch.

Jax’s hand wanders from your face down toward your chest, shape of his grip made for your breasts. Beat of your heart rewrites the lines across the palm to which it’s pressed. His other hand is frantically unfastening his fly, then hiking up your skirt with a firm squeeze against the slick flesh of your inner thigh. So pleased yet not surprised to find that you’re already a wet mess. Both know there’s no one else nearby... no witness, other than the sky... but still out here it seems safest, to free his meat and push your panties to the side but otherwise stay dressed.

And so he does and wastes no time driving in deep until his dick hits home inside your soaking hole. So deep it hits your fucking soul. Hits every time and it’s the motherfucking best.

Something so blessed... has to be cursed. You think that way sometimes and it’s the fucking worst. Like fate is twisting you to tempt the pearly gates ahead and this is just a test. 

But when his hips are thrusting perfectly in sync with yours... his throbbing cock pounding and plowing through your pussy till it bursts... there’s nothing else on earth that matters—nothing else in all the universe... just ride this crest of pleasure, high together, as you crash the pearly gates until they shatter, and to hell with all the rest.

Sun spreads its golden heat and sheds light through the overhanging tree. So long content to shine upon this rock that orbits in its gravity—yet seething now in envy—so enraged at the eclipse, the air you’re breathing off his lips, the fire in his fingertips, so hot and heavy—heavenly. He is the only sun you’ll ever see.

The sun and shadow all at once. Heaven is here on earth yet someday hell will come claim what it wants. Can’t beat it back. But you don’t have to when he’s buried in your cunt. Beneath the shade of Jax, all else just fades to black.

You see the world in shades of him. Just as he does of you.

You love him, as he loves you, and you’ll make this love until the jealous sun burns out above you... even if it tempts the other stars to take it from you.

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

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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[ozarkthedog]

Hidden Solace

Summary: Andy finds comfort in the most unsuspecting place.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Sex Worker!Reader

Word Count: 1,929

Warnings: SMUT. Oral Sex (Male Receiving). Glory Hole Virgin. Swearing. Slight Angst?. It’s up to you to decide if he is with Laurie or not while you read this.

Author Notes: This fic is full of smut and feelings! I hope you all love this little fic as much as I loved writing it. 💙 *Credit goes to gif owner.

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This work has Adult Content. If you click “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content.

Andy’s palms were sweaty as he sat in his Audi psyching himself up.

He stared out the wind shield taking in the shady looking building with its neon sign blaring into the dark night. He was taking a chance showing up at a place like this, but he was desperate.

Andy sucked in a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

He pulled his Red Sox cap low and covered his eyes with his shades as he crossed the threshold into the XXX Store.

He heard this place was running tricks. A Glory Hole out back for paying customers who could keep their mouths shut. Andy had no problem with that.

Soft Core Pornos played on small TVs embedded into the walls with copious amounts of toys, lubes and bondage gear stocking the shelves.

Andy casually strolled down the last isle pretending to look at some magazines before sauntering over to a grimy countertop placed at the back of the building.

An older woman sat at the oversized counter engrossed in an erotic novel as Andy shifted on his feet, clearing his throat.  

The woman’s eyes flicked up to Andy before she begrudgingly put her book down.

“It’ll be $50. Cash.” She said, sounding disinterested.

He ruffled through his wallet and deposited the money in her hand trying to not raise his head.

“Down the hall. Last door on the left.” She said, pointing with her thumb to the black curtain to her left.

“Have fun.” She feigned a smile and picked her book back up.

Andy passed through the curtain and walked down the hall intent with getting to his location. Various groans, creaky wood and the smell of sex filled the air as he strode by a handful of doors before arriving to his destination.

He stood in front of the door for a moment, unsure if he could actually go through with this. Maybe he could get his money back?

He heard a set of footsteps sound at the end of the hall and without thinking he grabbed the doorknob and dove into the room.

His heart pounded heavily against his chest as he leaned against the door feeling as though he almost got caught. He laughed to himself thinking how stupid he just looked to some guy who was headed to get his rocks off.

Andy peered around the tiny room as he took his hat off and stuck the brim in the back pocket of his jeans along with his sunglasses. A small bulb hung from the ceiling producing a dim yellow hue, a bench with a box of tissues and a small cut out in what looked like a wall covered in wood paneling.

He rubbed his face with dismay. How he ever talked himself into doing this…

Andy heard shuffling beyond the wall and then a faint, female voice.

“Hello?” You ponder with a quiet tone, unsure if anyone was in the opposite room.

You learned to not look through the hole. You made that mistake once and you never wanted to repeat it. Plus, the boss man didn’t want you to know who you’d be “servicing”. Something about privacy.

Andy cleared his throat nervously, his voice sounding just as timid. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Hi.”

You smile at his apprehensiveness. It was rare that you got a Glory Hole Virgin.

“First time, huh?” Your smile coming across in your tone.

“That obvious?” Andy smirked as you let out a warm laugh.

“Yeah, but it’s ok. There’s nothing to be afraid off.” You scoot closer to the wall, the padded plastic bench you sat on crinkled under your weight.

“Why don’t you get relaxed. If you’re wearing a jacket you can hang it on the hook to the left.” You hear him shucking off his jacket in the tiny space. His movements cause the small bit of light pouring through the hole to flicker.

You motion for him to come forward when you slipped your hand through the hole, reaching out into the empty space until his hand found yours.

It caught you off guard, your hand jolting in his grip. “Shit. I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to do that?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“It’s alright. I was just expecting a hard cock is all.” You laughed again, overcome with how sweet the man on the other side of the wall was. His larger hand encased yours until you maneuver his grip and lock hands with him.

“Oh…” He’s grateful you can’t see his face as it turns beat red. “That makes sense.”

“You’ve got soft skin.” You say, running your hands over his palm and up his wrist.

“Uh, thanks.” He responds with a dazed tone, enraptured with the way your hands feel tracing over his palm.

Andy bit his lip from the tender sensation. If your hands felt this nice on just his palm, he could only imagine how they would feel on his dick.

Blood began to pool in his cock, straining against his jeans with every trace you made from fingertip to wrist.

Boldly, you made a fist with your hand and grasped two of his fingers. Andy gasped at the lewd motion as you slowly jerked his fingers. You knew what was happening when the man went quiet.

“Are you hard?” Your lust filled voice cut through the spell Andy was under as he watched your tiny hand pull at his digits.

“Yes.” He declared, no longer ashamed of where he was.

“Good. Now, why don’t you take your cock out and let me feel all of you.”

You hear him shuffling his clothes around and a zipper sound before he speaks with unease, “Do you want me to just place it in your hands or…?”

“Yes, come here. I want to see how big you are.”

Andy stepped closer to the wall as your tiny hand wrapped around his impressive girth. You both gasp when your hand circles his rock hard length and slides down ever so slowly.

“Fuck.” Andy groaned, leaning his head back on his shoulders. Your tender touches make his blood boil.

“Does that feel good?” You ask, jerking your fist around his cock before grazing the crown with gentle caresses.

“You have no idea.”

His hips shake when you jerk his cock with a steady grip, traveling down his shaft and back up to swirl your palm around the head. Precum smears your hand prompting you to want more.

“Let me have a taste?” Your voice sounds innocent but it’s laced with a hint of yearning.

You carefully pull his cock through the cut-out in the wood paneling. His package takes up the entire hole, making him press his body against the wall when you bring his balls through to your side.

You stare at the straining appendage for a minute, overwhelmed with how thick he was. Your mouth watered and your thighs clenched together instinctively as a drop of precum leaked from the tip.

“Uh… everything ok?” Andy questions worriedly until he feels a hot swipe travel from the hairy base to the reddened tip.

His eyes slammed shut with a hearty growl when you dragged your tongue up the expanse of his girth before swirling around the head. You lick at the precum and relish it’s salty tang.

“You’ve got a magnificent cock, Sir.” You declared before stretching your mouth wide and swallowing him down.

Andy’s hips jolt forward not expecting you to take him completely in your mouth so suddenly. Your jaw stretched to accommodate his thickness as your hand fondles his sack with light caresses.

His deep, sinful moans are somewhat muffled but they hit your ears like a choir of angels.

Your bob your head on his length and jerk what you cannot fit, saliva slicking your grip as he thrusts a little in your hand. Your lips suckle at his frenulum, causing him to growl.

“God Damn. Your mouth feels amazing.”

You smile with glee around his throbbing cock, determined on getting him to fill your mouth.

Hard tugs jerk his thickness with prowess as your left hand pulls tenderly at his sack. You can’t help but vibrate his length with your joyful moans as you feel him swell over your tongue. Rarely did you get to service a cock like this.

Your core wept wantonly as you sucked on his cock. It pooled between your thighs and screamed at you to ease the tremendous ache caused by this stranger.

Andy out right whimpered when you poked at his urethra, gingerly nudging your tongue into the tiny hole.

He rested his head on the wood paneling, overcome with the intense sensations. He never had a woman use her tongue on him this way, it was devastatingly profound.

It’d been too long; he wasn’t going to last. He brought his fist up and banged on the wall with pleasant irritation.

You halted nervously, pulling off with a slurp, “Are you ok?”

“Shit- Yes. Sorry. It’s just been... it’s been a long time.” Andy sputtered. “Please, keep going.”

You heard the sadness in his voice and it tugged at your heart strings.

“A cock like this should never go a day without getting wet.” You crudely professed before taking his cock back into your mouth and sucking greedily at the bulging head, desperately needing to taste his seed

Andy felt his belly go taunt when you flicked your tongue around his cock head before swallowing him down. Your gag reflex kicked in as he met the back of your throat with a heavy punch.

He growled a low, “Fuck” as his body shook. His sack shrunk signaling his oncoming orgasm.

“Fill my mouth, Sir.” You command quickly before swallowing him down and gagging heavily around his length.

Andy’s muscles lock tight as his brain floods with endorphins. The rapture of finally hitting his peak via another person causes a full body shudder to pass through him and he cums with a strong howl.

He released his hearty load into your awaiting mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down. You slowly jerk his cock adding to the overstimulation of sucking at the tip making sure you got every last drop.

Sadly, you let his cock slip from your mouth and he pulls his dick through the hole.

You hear him panting from the powerful orgasm when he rests his body against the wall. He sluggishly stuffs his throbbing cock back in his jeans overwhelmed with the pleasure he so desperately needed.

“Um… I hope that was good for you.” Your usual meekness back in play.

Andy huffs out a laugh. “Oh, Darlin. If you only knew what you just did for me…” He trails off, not wanting to divulge too much.

You beam upon hearing how satisfied he was. Something about him made you feel different but you tried not to think about it. That wasn’t good for this line of work.

“Well, I’ll be here the same time next week… you know, if you want to stop by. Just ask for Room 6.” You hated the way you sounded, smacking your hand against your forehead. This wasn’t a restaurant.

He waited a minute before he speaking, twisting his ballcap in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect coming here… so thank you. Honestly.” His voice was full of sincerity and longing. You wished you could see his face; rules be damned.

He gathers his jacket, throws his hat on and shades his eyes before stepping out of the door with a smirk.

“I’ll see you next week.”

#ozark writes #hidden solace #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber/you #andy barber/reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber imagine #andy barber blurb #andy barber drabble #defending jacob fanfic #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter VII | Raul Mendes

                                               *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Oh hi, this is the seventh chapter of this series, you can find the first ones here. I can’t believe we are already halfway there! Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 5.5K+

*Warnings: cursing, jealousy, , man who can’t take a hint, angst (if you squint!), things might get hot in this (not smut though, sorry guys!). And Raul fluff, that’s a very important warning.

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: August 12th, 2021.

                                                  -*-

Raul was nervous.

Y/N knew he was anxious about something the moment he stepped foot into her apartment. They’ve known each other for so long, they’ve spent so much time together, that she was able to tell his fidgeting mannerisms and stiff shoulders from miles away. But under their current situations, him being this nervous could be a bad sign. He could’ve been discovered or something like that, which meant they’d have to leave the building in seconds and run as far away as they could.

Before she could stop herself, her eyes roamed all the expense of his body, looking for bleeding or any potential injury she could find, but none could be detected. Raul had left an hour ago for a morning run, Janet decided this was their day off since they’ve been working like crazy, so she forbid them from working on anything. So when he left after having a late breakfast with her, she wasn’t even worried about him being in danger, but seeing him all nervous was making her tense.

“Hi, doll” he said trying to sound casual but his voice sounded almost mechanic.

“Hey” she greeted from her spot on the couch, carefully placing her bookmark between the pages of the novel she picked up the other day “is everything okay?”

Raul dropped his keys and phone by the door as he nodded, moving behind the counter on the kitchen to fill a glass of water for him as he used that to calm himself down a bit “yeah, I just- do you want to go out tonight with me?”

“Uh, sure, is that all?”

Raul seemed surprised at that “So, uh, you’d go out with me? Just the two of us?”

“Of course, we’ve done that before” she said still trying to understand his reaction. Was he asking her out on a date? And if he was, wasn’t it obvious she’d go?

“Yeah, I know, but this is different, I think we both know things changed between us, sweetheart, and this could be a chance for us to forget our reality for a second and just let things happen, maybe?” the normally confident, borderline cocky demeanor he normally carried around was gone. His body language showed clearly an almost shy side of him that Y/N wasn’t aware existed.

And she did know what he was talking about. They’re always close and intimate, he’s a very touchy kind of person and that’s definitely his love language, so that wasn’t knew. But spending the night and waking up cuddled to his chest was new, different in a good way, and that left her crush into growing by the second. It was getting harder to ignore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t have it in her to avoid it that much anymore.

“Yeah, I’d like that” and with that his face lit up completely and she flashed him a bright smile.

“Yeah?” he asked as he approached her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she nodded “good, saw this really nice restaurant by the docks, it’s Italian”

“Oh great, what time do you want to leave? Just so I can get ready” she said looking up at him as he stood up to his full height.

Raul starting pulling his shirt off as he moved to the hallway leading to her bathroom “Seven works for you?”

“It does it’s perfect, I only need to help Celine out, but I’m having lunch with her to do that” Y/N replied as she forced herself to focus on the book in her hands and not the perfectly designed muscles on his abs as he leaned on the doorframe to the bathroom.

She heard Raul chuckled as he closed the door, not locking right after. Y/N would need a few hours to get herself together if she wanted to survive this ‘date’.

-*-

She ended up spending most of her afternoon with Celine and trying to calm down. If Celine noticed, she didn’t express anything, maybe too worried about her little mission tonight, but she was a good distraction. Trying to explain the best use for all of the equipment she receive and discussing the plan over and over again. Then she was told to leave and rest, boss’ order since it was their little day off.

Y/N got back to her apartment at around 5 p.m. finding Raul napping on her couch, the little fluffy blanket she had cuddled close to his chest. She had to hold back a coo not to disturb his sleep, and physically stopping herself from playing with his hair or caressing his face. So she decided to shower while he rested, so when he was up he could have the bathroom all to himself.

Before leaving the bathroom, she peaked her head outside of the door to check if Raul was still peacefully sleeping on the couch, which he was. So she took that to her advantage as she crossed to her room with only a towel wrapped around herself as she tried to figure out what she could possibly wear. She only packed really basic outfits, and sure, she didn’t really need to dress up and Raul’s seen her with every single type of outfit, so if she got all dolled up it wouldn’t be the first time or actually impactful.

But bless Y/N from weeks ago from deciding to throw a delicate sundress amongst all the gear she brought in her suitcase. It was a backless dress, with spaghetti straps holding the sunflower dress on her body. She felt pretty and comfortable in it, and it was enough to convince her this was it. A soft knock coming from her bedroom door brought her back to reality as she ran her hands down the front of the dress nervously.

“Yeah?” was all she said.

“Can I come in?” Raul asked before actually opening the door, only doing so after getting her consent “oh wow”

“What?” she felt a little self conscious under his gaze, she knew she’s been out with so many beautiful woman and she hated this stupid insecurity rising in her chest, but she could really help it.

All of her stupid questioning and anxiety were quickly washed away when she looked at him, finding Raul speechless and still staring at her, mouth slightly agape.

“Shit, you’re gorgeous, holy fuck, come here, doll” he said as he offered her his hand, which she gladly took as he pulled her closer, twirling her around blowing a low whistle “you’re so ducking beautiful, I love this dress on you”

Y/N shook her head giggling “oh stop it”

“I’m serious, baby, you’re just so perfect, sometimes I don’t even believe you’re real” as his praises slipped out of his lips she felt her face getting hotter and hotter.

“Oh God, you’re such a sap” all she could do was cover her face with her hands.

He gave her million dollar smirk pulling her hands away to look at her properly “only for you, sweetheart”

Y/N shook her head “I still need to put on some makeup” she warned him and he nodded, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“Take your time” he then added “I’ll change real quick and I’ll wait for you to finish getting ready, yeah?”

“Okay” was all she mumbled before she saw him leaving her apartment to walk down the hall to his.

She grabbed her little bag of makeup items deciding to do something a little bit nicer than her very basic everyday routine. Y/N padded her way still barefoot to her bathroom, propping herself up to sit on the sink and get closer to the mirror, placing her items nicely next to her. Just as she decided what she was going for, she heard Raul coming in. She let him know she was in the bathroom and she wouldn’t take long, but to her surprise, as she was prepping her skin, he slipped into the bathroom silently.

“Is everything okay?” she asked quietly looking at him through the mirror.

He was standing right behind her as he lifted his hands to place them in her waist, moving her hair to one shoulder to another, placing a gentle kiss to the newly exposed skin. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as she fought to keep her expression as neutral as possible, but he was making it hard. His cologne making her feel lightheaded, add that to his soft touches and eyes locked with hers through the mirror.

He was wearing a silky black button up, with the first few open, most of his chest exposed, his silver chain peaking through. His classic tight black jeans and his curls as perfect as ever. Raul looked like a fucking dream and being so gentle she felt like this was a dream, and it it weren’t for the cold of his rings against her slightly heated skin, she would be sure this was just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Yeah, just like watching you get ready” he mumbled placing another kiss to the place where her shoulder and neck met, making her let out a soft sigh.

Y/N trapped her bottom lip between her teeth as she met his gaze through the glass “you’re a little shit, you know that?” and he only chuckled lowly in his chest, shaking his head “let me finish so we can go!”

“I’m not stopping you” he said with a teasing tone and his smirk, but leaned away from her exposed skin, his hand never leaving her waist “but I guess I’ll behave cause I’m a good boy

“Of course you are” she chuckled, shaking her head, as she got back to her work.

She carefully applied a few items of makeup not wanting to look like it was too much, and every once in a while, she glanced back at Raul that stood patiently behind her. His thumb rubbing slow circles at her waist from time to time as he watched every move attentively. He smiled gently at her when he noticed her staring, a slight blush coating his cheeks.

“You look so pretty, doll” he admitted at she leaned forward to apply some mascara “so so pretty”

Y/N giggled shaking her head “did you hit your head or something? What happened to you today? You’re clingier and sweeter than ever”

Raul chuckled “I’m just enjoying my day off with my best girl, that’s all, I’m just happy and glad we got to do this” and with that she almost turned into a puddle “and just wanted to remind you how pretty you are”

“Thank you, darling” she meant it and she turned her head to place a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling her face heating up considerably “almost done, only a little highlighter and lipgloss”

Raul nodded as she finished applying the products and setting with a spray, before turning around to climb out of the counter. But before she could jump to get off, he had his arms around her waist to pick her up and carrying her to her bedroom as she squealed after laughing at him. He carefully placed her back on her feet at the bottom of her bed with a smile on his face.

“There you go”

Y/N laughed patting his chest softly “thank you” and then she turned to grab her shoes and her purse “do you think I should grab a jacket?”

“It’s probably better since it’s by the waters and we might need to walk a bit to reach the place I have in mind” he said with a shrug as he bit his lip “you can take mine, the leather one by the door”

“Are you sure?” she asked turning to fully face him completely ready, and she swears she saw his breath hitching.

“Yeah yeah, of course” he was quick to nod and she smiled at him in response.

“Okay!” Y/N practically hoped to the from door to grab the look, throwing it over her shoulders without actually putting it on and she waited for him.

Raul trailed behind her like a trained puppy chuckling, extending his hand towards her “you’re absolutely gorgeous”

“And you’re insanely pretty” she added as she interlaced their fingers letting him pull her closer to his body, his warmth radiating through his opened button down and the soft material of her summer dress.

“You think so?” Raul asked with a smirk and she nodded trying to hold back a laugh with an eye roll “good, pretty enough for you?”

Her eyes widened as she realized that behind his smirk he was actually curious, maybe even a tiny bit insecure, which made zero sense to her“Are you kidding me? You’re literally like a model of something”

“Thank you, sweetheart” he smiled genuinely, placing a kiss on her forehead before pulling her towards the door “now come on, promised you dinner”

-*-

The ride to the docks was pleasant, with him goofing around and singing horribly off tune to whatever song come up on the radio (and even though he would never admit it alive, he actually had a pretty decent singing voice, while Shawn was the singer, Raul wasn’t bad himself at all). He had his hand gently placed on her thigh, not high enough to make things weird, instead it was a comforting weight keeping her grounded and lightheaded at the same time.

They couldn’t park next to the restaurant, having to find a spot on the parallel street alongside everyone else who wanted to venture on the stores and diners. Raul was quick to hop out of the car and open the door for her, to which she just laughed and kissed his cheek as a thank you, locking her arm with his as they walked around the block.

The place he picked was a small cozy restaurant, looking all warm and homey as soon as the stepped foot in it. They were quickly whisked away by the host and walked to their table as they sat on a booth by the window, watching all the boats and movement from the street. Y/N sat across from him so they could both have enough room to feel comfortable.

“This place is so cute” she was the first to break the silence that installed as the walked in.

“You liked it?” his shoulders relaxing as she nodded her head cheerfully.

She looked around before turning back to face him “I loved it, never could’ve imagined we’d be in a place like this under this circumstances, but I’m glad we are”

“Me too, I wish I would’ve asked you out on a different situation, maybe a few months ago” he said scratching the back of his neck looking anywhere but her face “and I know this isn’t a proper date and stuff, but I think it’s a great start so we could figure out where to take this, but if you want it to be a date it’s fine by me! It’s just- I-“ Y/N couldn’t let him get into his head, so she gently placed her hand on top of the one he had resting on the table.

“Hey” she called softly as he finally looked at her, so she shot him a small smile “we don’t have to label anything for now, yeah? We don’t need to worry about this right now, we have other stuff in our heads, okay? We have all the time we could ask for and I don’t mind waiting a bit longer”

Raul smiled at her and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle (an old habit of his, it started when she punched a guy in middle school for bothering Peter, he kissed each bruise and swollen knuckle he could, saying she was so brave and so strong) “yeah, I’m normally not his nervous, and I know I technically don’t need to be, it’s just you’re too important to me for me to fuck things up”

“You won’t, don’t worry, yeah?” she offered and he nodded “now, let’s discuss an important matter, what are we having?”

“Great question and I have no fucking clue” he admitted and she laughed at him.

They ended up picking a plate for them to share since it was a big portion as the talked, and time seemed to fly around them. They’re always so easy going, conversations flowed so naturally and it felt so right, they both ended up forgetting why they’re so nervous to begin with. This wasn’t a date date, it was just an excuse to understand where they stood and how they wanted to proceed, and they’ve known each other for years, it’s not like they had to make amazing first impressions if they wanted this to work.

They decided against ordering dessert since Y/N claimed she saw an ice cream shop down the block and that she was pretty much stuffed anyway. So Raul payed the bill against her protests, but she ended up giving in with a promise she’d be the one to buy their ice creams. They walked hand in hand down the small street that was surrounded by people, and as she claimed, there was this beautiful ice cream shop.

They placed their orders as she paid and he grabbed both of their treats, and ended up deciding to just eat outside on the light breeze to watch the boats and the water. They walked to the end in the street, leaning into the small wall that kelts kids from falling or jumping on the water. They’re just lightly chatting about random stuff, recounting old embarrassing stories when she visibly saw Raul’s demeanor change drastically.

But before she could ask what’s wrong or turn around for potential triggers, she felt a calloused hand on the exposed skin of her back. When she whipped her head around to see whoever was standing behind her she was surprised to be met with the man himself. Geonoff Reyes was standing right behind her.

“Oh hello, Y/N, how are you?” his voice made her stomach churn.

“Oh my God, hi!” she smiled politely turning completely to face him, her back now pressed to Raul’s front, unconsciously moving away from the man’s gross touch and into Raul’s warm chest “I’m okay, you remember him, right, love?”

She didn’t need to turn around for Raul to know she was talking to him “oh yeah, hey man, how have you been?” he had an arm around Y/N’s waist in a second, bringing her even closer to him and she went gladly, the weight of him on her comforting.

“I’ve been good, working a lot, trying to expand my business”

Y/N squealed softly in a fake excitement “Oh that’s awesome!”

“Yeah, congrats, man” Raul said with a smile he wasn’t even sure how he managed to fake.

“Thank you, guys, it’s been hard but it’s worth it” Reyes’ said with a smirk on his face “are you guys here on a date or something? I’m not interrupting anything, right?”

“Oh no, it’s okay, we’ve been down here for a while now, but yeah, Raul has been trying to get me to come down here for a while so he made it a date night and I couldn’t really say ‘no’” she explained as she placed her hands on his bicep, holding him in place.

“And are you liking it so far?” his slightly annoyed tone didn’t go unnoticed by Raul, as he glanced at the arm he had wrapped around Y/N as if it was something revolting.

“Oh yes, it’s amazing, really, such a beautiful view” she added pointing to the boats.

“Agreed, but you’re a a better view” Geonoff chuckled at his own flirtations joke and Y/N chuckled softly when in reality she wanted to puke “well, in case you ever feel like it, I own a couple of boats, so I could take you on a ride if you wanted”

Raul almost lost his temper there, but he felt Y/N slightly squeezing his muscle and he forced himself to relax and to keep his cool.

“Oh thank you, but I’m a little afraid, rather be here on land where I know I’m safe” she said with a sweet smile, but she had a bitter taste on her mouth.

“In case you ever change your mind, you have my number” he added with a wink “I gotta get going, have a meeting in my yatch now”

“Have a nice night, man, good luck with your business” Raul forced himself to speak up and Geonoff looked up at him almost as if he had forgotten he was there and flashed him a smile, but not without looking him up and down with disgust.

“Oh yes! Have a great night” Y/N waved politely “Don’t let us keep you from getting to your meeting, wouldn’t want you getting late”

“Good night, drive home safely, yes?” Geonoff said, reluctantly peeling his eyes from Y/N’s figure.

“Of course, I’ll keep her safe, don’t worry” Raul said kissing her hair and she giggled in response.

Geonoff waved before walking in the area she supposed was where he’d climb on his yatch, and only then Y/N noticed the man in suit surrounding him, heavily armed. When he was finally far enough she let ou a breath she didn’t know she was holding, melting completely into Raul’s chest. He held her tighter so she wouldn’t slip.

“Come on, it’s getting late, my love, let’s get you home” Raul said pulling her in the direction to their car.

The whole way home Raul didn’t utter a single word and Y/N was still processing everything, so they both sat in silence, the only noise was coming from the soft purr of the engine and the low music coming from the radio. As he parked oh the garage, they both got out of the car and moved to the elevator almost automatically, still without speaking up, mostly due to possibly leaking some information.

As if he could read his mind, when she started breathing a bit heavier due to the stressful situation and the weird vibe they had between them, Raul quietly slipped his hand in hers, giving it a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. She then left a breath she didn’t know she was holding, stepping out of the elevator as it hit their floor and dragging him behind her like a puppy to enter her place.

“Are you okay?” Raul asked as soon as she locked the door and turned to face him.

She nodded leaving her shoes by the door, alongside her purse and hanging her (his) leather jacket “Yeah, just a bit shocked, you know? Wasn’t expecting him to be there, Celine’s been following him for the thing he had, but we didn’t know he’d have a meeting on a boat”

“Yeah, sorry about that” he mumbled mimicking her actions as he scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong, honey” Y/N said finally actually looking at him, noticing the prominent frown on his face, a small pout on his overly pink lips “hey, it could’ve happened to anyone and anytime, you couldn’t have known”

Raul huffed a breath shaking his head as he plopped down on the couch, running a hand on his hair “yeah, but this was one of our only chances to relax for the past weeks and he ruined it everything”

“He didn’t ruin everything” she was quick to stop him, sitting down beside him, tucking her legs under her body as she rested her arm on the backrest of the small couch, stretching a bit to place her hand on his shoulder “I had a lovely time and I honestly can’t remember when was the last time I actually had this much fun on a non-date date”

Raul turned his face slightly to place a gentle kiss on her hand “really? You’re not just lying to make me feel better?”

She gasped feigning offense “what do you take me for?”

“A liar” he stated without blinking, and she was quick to try to get up and make a dramatic scene, but he was faster to wrap his long fingers on her wrist near his face, pulling her back down and in his lap as he laughed “come on, doll, it was just a joke”

“You're an idiot” she said laughing trying to climb out of his lap, but the arm that was wrapped around her waist stopped her.

Raul shook his head “no, no, stay here, sweetheart, and we’ve already discussed this” he said looking pointedly at her, but the small grin playing on his lips gave him away and she shook her head “Yes, I am an idiot, but I’m your idiot”

“I don’t mind that” she said with a shrug and he smiled at her.

“Good thing you don’t” he chuckled, comfortable hand on her back as he drew random shapes on the exposed skin of her back making her shiver slightly “you know, the jacket looked really good on you”

Y/N huffed a small laugh shaking her head“Yeah? Might steal it”

“You shouldn’t announce it, silly, but I have to admit, you could probably steal my whole closet and I still wouldn’t be mad at you” he said turning her in his lap to face him and making her properly straddle him “you look too good in my clothes for that” he added voice slightly lower.

If Y/N had been drinking water she would’ve choked, but she tried to keep her face as straight as possible “you're such a flirt”

He then laughed “Only for you, doll”

“Oh shut up, you literally flirt with yourself on reflexes and might have flirted with the dog we saw earlier” Y/N pointed resting her hands on his chest as she laughed.

But Raul shook his head trying to hold himself from chuckling “well, it’s not intentional, didn’t know you were jealous of my own reflection”

“I'm not the jealous one here, darling” she had a teasing glint in her eyes, but he didn’t even hesitate before admitting, knowing denying would be ridiculous at this point.

“What do you want me to do? Everyone wants you, I can’t help it sometimes” he said and Y/N arched a brow at him “okay, okay, most times, but you’re just so fucking pretty and smart, and talented and good and of course I get jealous”

She was left slightly speechless. Sure he always complimented her, about pretty much everything but they’re normally casually thrown, here and there, but since they weren’t so directly she was able to brush it off with a joke. But never so many in a row and looking her straight in the eye. Y/N looked down, dropping her hands on her lap and fidgeting with her ring.

But then she felt his hand tilting her head slightly up so she could look him in the eye, her whole face burning up, and he smiled so sweetly at her she was even slightly breathless. His hand came to rest on her jaw as his thumb caressed her cheeks gently “did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, no” she was quick to add “no, you’re just-”

His voice was quiet when he inquired “What?”

“So sweet and-” she sighed looking around and shook her head.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was like honey, all warm and making her feel tingly as she looked down at him again and she didn’t know what to do.

Raul was staring at her lips and they’re suddenly too close, she didn’t even notice how close to his face she was, her noses almost touching, and maybe they gravitated closer to each other unconsciously, almost like magnets. But she wasn’t complaining. Her mind having a tiny short circuit and she got lost in his eyes.

He leaned forward a bit more, giving her a tiny eskimo kiss, their lips brushing “Am I reading this wrong?” his voice an octave lower and she shook her head, leaning in the rest of the way.

She caught his lips in a tentative kiss, hands splayed on his chest, not fully confident on it, but all of her self doubts flew out of the window as he sighed happily kissing her back, pulling her even closer to him and keeping her flush against his chest with a hadn’t around her waist. She literally felt like she was on the moon, her head spinning as he enveloped her in everything him.

His hand gently caressing her face, his other one on her waist, his cool rings a stark contrast to the heated skin exposed by the low-cut back of her dress. His smell was everywhere, his thighs under him and the soft fabric of his silky shirt. Raul didn’t hesitate to slot her bottom lips between his two, deepening the kiss and taking control of it.

All this years, all his pent up emotions taste on his tongue as he swept it over her soft glossy lips, and she was quick to open her mouth to him. Bringing one of her hands to tangle on the small curls at the base of his neck, pulling on the soft chocolate curls and he could not hold back the small whine that left his lips and she swallowed it. The soft strokes of his tongue against her making her want to his him forever.

But as if he sensed it, he pulled back placing a long kiss to her lips and trailing his mouth in slow wet kisses down her neck “can't believe I waited this long for this to happen” but Y/N only hummed in response, too lost in the feeling and trying to catch her breath, pulling his hair a little harder and he let out a deep groan “fuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna be the death of me”

She then titled his head up by his hair, before glueing their lips back together, his hand dropping to her exposed thigh and her breath hitched in her throat. But before things could go any further, she heard a strong knock on her door, making her snap her head to look at the front door of her apartment.

“Y/N, sweetie, I need help” she barely recognized Celine’s voice in the fake sweetened tone she used for her cover.

“Oh shit, they must be back from the mission” she whispered as she turned to Raul with wide eyes and he looked completely blissed out “what are we going to do?”

“Honey, is your boyfriend in there? Hope you’re both decently dressed” Celine called with a teasing tone and it didn’t seem fake at all.

Raul held her face in his hand trying to get her to focus and said it in a hushed tone “it's okay, go open the door to her and we don’t have to say anything just yet, we can talk about this later, yeah? Everything’s fine, I just need a second to- uh, you know, calm myself down a bit” he added the last part a bit shyly and she nodded taking a deep breath.

“He's here but we’re decent” she shouted back with a fake laugh as she scrambled out of his lap, leaning down a bit to arrange his curls and cleaning the excess gloss that transferred onto his lips “Coming, darling, you want me to kick him out?” she offered shooing him out of the couch and aligning the throw pillows to make it less obvious.

“No, no, he can stay, it’s just Trevor again” Celine came up with the stupidest excuse she could think of.

Raul nodded to her as he hid behind the kitchen counter, casually grabbing a beer. So she took a deep breath and tried getting herself together before unlocking the door, being met with Celine looking at her suspiciously in casual attire.

“Oh hi, come in” Y/N said as she straightened her dress and pulling the door more open, watching as Celine stared her up and down but not saying a thing about her slightly disheveled state.

Instead she looked at Raul by the kitchen counter and said “Jack's coming with Tom in a sec” and sat down on the couch.

Y/N felt Raul’s gaze on her, but instead she just turned to close the door and then sitting by Celine, trying to ignore those damn butterflies on her stomach.

                                                  -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #sm #shawn mendes writing #the mendes triplets #mendes triplets #raul mendes #raul mendes writing #raul mendes au #heart by heart #writing #secret agent au #the mendes triplets au #mendes triplets AU #shawn mendes au #au #alternative universe #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n

[vrishchikawrites]

About YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids Post-WWX Arrival

Dear Dee, feel free to delete or ignore this or post it, whatever floats your boat. This just stuck in my head after those posts and I had to blurt it all to someone. Thanks for taking the time to read my word vomit.

So I had to do this instead of an ask because it got long and I wasn't sure how many asks it'd need or how short I could cut it down without losing parts of the argument. And then other things came up as I was writing and, well.  Well..... >_>;;;; 

But you know, after that post/ask you had about YZY fics saying 'Fuck U' to YMJ/JFM & leaving both with her kids, I had a sarcastic 'yeah right' attitude about it. Mainly due to a lot of negation emotions to such an abusive (and delusional) bitch, partly due to how she wouldn't do that since it doesn't seem to be something her sort of character would consider either because she'd think of it as 'losing' (losing what, IDK, it's why I consider her type of person crazy) or she legit wouldn't think about such a viable action.

But then later, in the shower, I seriously went 'Wait, she can't fucking do that' and it wouldn't be about how MXTX uses her as a part of the narrative but entirely about the/their culture in the novel; the actions that have and would be taken in response; and her entire toxic personality as well.

1) We already know that the sects and the cultivation world in general is sexist, elitist and so Capital T 'Traditional' to the point that it's starting to petrify and any deviancy from this is an exception rather than the norm. YZY might be a madame of a great sect (for what that's worth considering how shit of a madame she's been and the titles she's chosen for herself) but she's still a woman even with her high rank and the things she's personally accomplished.

Even if she was in her rights to leave a 'bad' marriage, she'd be the one who'd get scolded more instead of JFM by her natal family, her former husband's family and by their entire society at large even if she had a few singular supporters. Because That's Not How Things Are Done in their society and I do believe that such a thing was rare even when it was accepted method by the upper echelons. Especially since it would have to be done by more than YZY simply deciding that She Wants Out and just- goes and Gets Out. With no serious allegations that would allow her to divorce or separate from YMJ/JFM without the input from her family, JFM's family and, I think, possibly some measure of compensation as well. And no, having or bringing in a 'bastard child' is not a serious enough offence for such a humongous decision. I think something more along the lines of treason or crimes against multiple, high-ranking parties would be more along the lines. Maybe.

And even if she does this, she'd be considered 'Used Goods' (such a terrible comment) and there'd be no other good/proper marriage prospects for a divorced woman with children let alone a woman like YZY with her entire abrasive personality and attitude put off even easy-going JFM.

(If she'd been widowed then it'd be more forgiven but I consider that a Real Bad End since, IMO, it would lead to the sudden and inevitable decline of YMJ either via mass exodus of disciples and/or residents of LP; being merged with another sect due to it's unstable leadership; or create an internal political war 'cause I bet you anything that the YMJ Elders/relatives (if they have any) Would Not Want YZY in charge of YMJ when she's already proven herself such a shit betrothed let alone madame.)

2) Speaking of families, while YMJ/JFM/LP as a whole might be glad to see YZY's back, I don't think her natal sect, MSY, will be glad to see her come storming back after all the effort they put into getting that particular marriage alliance with YMJ. And if she brings her children with her? Oh man, oh boy- mother or not, that could be considered as kidnapping or line theft (is that a thing?) especially if YZY is also seriously considering divorce proceedings and raising them as Yu and not Jiang. That could give leave to, for anyone more unforgiving and maybe JFM if he's pushed enough, disown both JYL and JWY from the Jiangs through no fault of their own (though I'm sure YZY would make it so as well as blame JFM for her own decisions and mistakes).

Therefore, any inheritance or benefits they might gain for being legitimised children of a great sect are forfeited. JYL will likely lose that betrothal with JZX because JGS will drop it like a hot potato and JWY won't be a sect heir because YZY literally decided to remove that by deciding to raise JWY as a Yu, no matter their blood relation to JFM. They leave him, they leave YMJ and everything attached with it. Which is if YMJ/JFM doesn't demand MSY to give back their heir/ess and to punish YZY for her actions. Or send all three of them back for the appropriate reactions/decisions.

Their society would demand no less in reaction because, to them, it would seem like YZY had gone mad and JFM would look weak (or weaker) and imply that YMJ is vulnerable and exploitable if JFM doesn't do something in response to her actions. That's not even getting into what the other smaller sects may try to do in an attempt to curry favour with YMJ or what LLJ or QSW would try in order to destroy or diminish YMJ. And whether JFM chooses to demand his children back or not, it may not change the fact that this may give him reason enough to choose a nephew or niece to be the new sect heir especially if, even after getting rid of YZY's poisonous influence, JWY grows up to be his mother's child more than his father's or even his own person.

Either way, such a thing would bring great backlash on YZY, and MSY as well as the collateral. No one would want to give face to her or her children because it would bring up some very uncomfortable questions and scenarios to the other sects- specifically, what would happen if the female members of their clans/sets decided to follow the footsteps of YZY and leave with their children and heirs. Especially if they use it as an excuse to leave for their own comfort and whims and not some legitimate wrongs and dangers. That would create some more restrictions on women thanks to YZY

3) And lastly, if any one of those idiot YZY stans think that she'd ever give up the status of being a madame of a great sect they'd be as crazy or crazier than her. YZY is all about status and power and face. Specifically, her status, power and face and how people in her reach reflect her or 'insult' her. She is a selfish, terrible, abusive and toxic person and can only see people in regards to how they would benefit her and the elevation of her and in no other way. Especially her family. They cannot be their own person, they can only be an extension of her and gods forbid they go against her.

We can see this in how she treats the people she supposedly loves. JFM? Arguments day in, day out along with accusations and slander of cheating, having one(1) supposed 'bastard' and being 'in love' with CSSR. Which all seems sus as hell. And that's when she's actually there and not out 'night hunting'. Even her 'training' seems to border on unhelpful rather then helpful if my vague recollections of juniors fainting from exhaustion can be relied upon (please call me out if they're not or find proof).

JYL? Berated by not being 'strong' but not helped at all to be 'strong'. It doesn't help that YZY seems to believe in the same standards strength in their society- that is, of martial masculine strength which does not and should not apply to JYL who has been said to be sickly. Which means h should have been learning a different way of cultivation/fighting anyway.  If that was something she wanted and had been offered in the first place- which I doubt. That isn't even getting into her repeated generational trauma mess of a betrothal which was decided only by those 'sworn sisters', accepted by her as a way out of her terrible home life and puts her squarely within reach of JGS who we know to be a womaniser, rapist, predator and a possible ephebophile considering we don't know the exact age of his youngest 'conquest' or the age of MZY's mother when they met which could be anywhere from 14 to 21.

JWY? Gods, so much meta on him and his(non-) relationships with his parents that I don't think I can contribute more to it. It's been all said and done. Unless people want me to stir the pot by saying that, maybe, just maybe, YZY resents JWY as much as she 'loves' him.Either because he's her son and yet never manages to 'accomplish as much' as WWX or because he's a boy and therefore, more benefits and allowances than a girl/woman- more than anything that YZY ever got without either a fight or screaming at someone about. *shrug*

So, in conclusion to this sudden an unexpected essay that I wrote(I'm so sorry about that, I thought it would be shorter -.-;;;;), YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids? Impossible. Not without some sort of personality transplant or a complete AU. She's too prideful, too bitter, too angry, too everything negative and little positive. She's a resentful product of the values and restraints of her society taken to the extreme negative with a willingness to inflict her pain on others to an abusive degree. But she's also too obsessed and reliant on those same values and restraints to keep up the image of her status. So her? Giving those up? You'd be more likely to see WRH as a doting grandfather than that.

---

Dee - All of this is true and yes YZY leaving YMJ is highly unlikely. While there will be consequences if she decides to leave, she does canonically lives separately from her husband. They seem to be in a situation where they are married but living separately, which was a common way to end a marriage (at least in spirit) back then. She essentially had all the perks of being Madam Jiang but fulfilled none of the responsibilities.

Afaik, her training the Jiang disciples is a donghua thing? I may be wrong but I recall she spent most of her time nighthunting.

As for taking her children along with her- that's completely impossible. At that point, children were the property of the father. She could leave but she would've never been allowed to take JC.

#submission

[omgrachwrites]

Our Souls Crave This Magic- Chapter One

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Reader

Summary: All you want is a quiet year of university as you and your best friend, Edmund move to New York City. Though, that all changes when you meet the spoiled trust fund brat, Caspian. College au.

Warnings: fluff, slow burn romance, swearing

Words: 2619

Disclaimer: Everyone in this fic is 18+ and this gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: Here we are, first part of my college au! It was a little weird to be writing a Narnia college au, I’d never thought of writing one before! Hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

next part   masterlist

Chapter One - Once Upon a Time in New York City

The air in New York was hot and muggy, even with the roof of your rental car being down there wasn’t much of a breeze and you were beginning to feel irritable and the smog in the air was heavy. The traffic over here was slow, somehow even slower than it was in London but you knew that it was a small price to pay for your freedom.

When your best friend, Edmund received a chance to study overseas in New York for his final year of college he took the chance straight away and he had pretty much begged you to go with him. You had never known Edmund to beg for anything so you knew that this was serious. You didn’t want to lose your best friend so you agreed to go with him, as did his little sister, Lucy but you didn’t mind, it was her first year at college.

From the back seat you could hear Lucy gasping in awe as she glanced up at the impossibly tall skyscrapers that were beginning to make you feel a little sick, “I love this city already, thanks for letting me come with you guys!”

Ed grimaced as he leaned forwards to turn your rock music down which earned him a scathing glare, “it’s not like we had much of a choice,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes at Ed before smiling at Lucy in the mirror, “ignore him, Lu. I’m glad that you’re here.”

“Thanks Y/N,” she grinned at you before pulling a tongue at her brother, “I can’t wait to see the loft,” she sighed happily.

Neither of you wanted to stay in some shitty dorm room on campus so ever since you were accepted into NYU, you had begun saving money from your bar job and your student loan. Between the three of you the most you could afford was a loft apartment in Brooklyn. You spotted the moving van a couple of doors down from the loft and got ready to turn into a parking space on the busy street.

As you were reversing into the space, a yellow taxi blared its horn at you as it zoomed past you, “yeah, very nice, arsehole!” you yelled out of the window, knowing the driver couldn’t hear you but it made you feel better all the same.

Edmund rolled his eyes as he fixed you with an unamused look as he ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m beginning to regret asking you to come with me.”

You laughed, winking at him as you got out of the car, “you know that you love me.”

Ed laughed before he bit his lip, looking at you nervously, “you should call your mum, and tell her that you made it here in one piece. I know that you’ve been putting it off Y/N,” he sighed and pulled you into a one armed hug, “you can catch up with us in a bit.”

You sighed as you watched Ed and Lucy walk towards the moving van, he was right – most of the time he was right – you had been putting it off, and for good reason. You dialled your mum’s number as you lit up a cigarette and took a long drag of it. Just as you suspected, you were met with your mum’s voicemail. She was probably out, spending time with her new family, she was almost too happy when you told her that you were moving to New York.

“Hey mum, I’m just calling to let you know that I made it to New York, safe and sound. I didn’t want to call but Ed thought that I should, anyway call me back if you get this. Or don’t, it really doesn’t matter to me either way.”

The lie tasted bitter in your mouth but you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer so you quickly hung up the phone. You rubbed your temples as you took another drag off your cigarette, blowing out a large billow of smoke.

“Do you mind?” you heard a cough with the sound of a smooth honeyed accent. Your gaze started at his feet and you quirked an eyebrow when you saw that he was wearing expensive leather shoes. You travelled up his body with your eyes and they finally came to land on his face.

He had deep brown eyes that were almost black and he was very handsome with thick dark hair and clean stubble along his jaw, he looked just like the brooding hero in all those romance novels. You didn’t want to judge but he looked exactly like a trust fund baby, someone who got whatever they wanted on a silver platter. He coughed again as you blew out more smoke and he ran a hand through his hair, narrowing those gorgeous eyes at you.

“You can clearly see that I’m smoking here, it’s your fault for getting in my way, pretty boy,” you didn’t miss the scowl he shot you as you crushed the stub of your cigarette beneath your shoe as you turned away. You couldn’t let a stranger piss you off, no matter how good looking he was.

As you walked into the loft you were immediately taken aback by how spacious and beautiful it was, it seemed like good value for your money which was extremely rare in a big city. You decided that you were going to take the smallest room – you wanted Ed and Lucy to have the most luxurious rooms – but it seemed that you definitely got the room with the best view. New York was such a beautiful city and you were so glad that you got to live here.

As you were coming out of the room that you had claimed as your own, you noticed that the handsome stranger was in your apartment. Suspicion ran through your body as you narrowed your eyes at him, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

He opened his mouth to reply but before he could, Edmund came striding into the apartment, carrying a cardboard box, “Y/N, this is Caspian; he’s offered to help us move in.”

“How nice,” you smiled tightly, Caspian was a trust fund name, you were sure of that.

Caspian raised an eyebrow and he smirked at you, and you ignored the way that his deep brown eyes sparkled. You just wanted a quiet final year of college; you wouldn’t let a handsome young man ruin it. You had worked too hard to be here.

When Caspian walked out of the loft with Ed, Lucy smirked at you, “Caspian’s cute isn’t he?”

You laughed as you unpacked the kitchen boxes, “suppose so, for a trust fund baby.”

“What makes you think that’s he’s got a trust fund?” Lucy asked as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Come on Lu, his shoes cost more than our rent, it’s obvious that he’s rolling in money, and with a name like Caspian,” you let out a low whistle, “the evidence speaks for itself.”

Finally, you were all moved in – and Caspian had thankfully left, turning down Edmund’s offer to stay for a drink – it was early evening and your breath was stolen away by how pretty the sky looked. It was all pink and orange hues, and you were almost certain that you’d enjoy living here. New York seemed like such a romantic city – despite the smog – every story that was worth reading began in New York City.

Edmund grinned at you and flung an arm around your shoulders, “are you hungry? We were thinking about ordering pizza.”

You shook your head, although the notion of pizza sounded amazing, “no can do I’m afraid, I gonna go out and actually look for a job. How else are we going to be able to pay the rent?” you smiled.

Lucy raised her eyebrow at you, “Y/N, we’ve literally been here for a few hours and already you’re thinking about getting a job?”

You nodded at her as you kissed Edmund’s cheek, “you guys know how much I worry,” you laughed as you shrugged on your leather jacket, “I’ll see you guys later, and make sure to save some pizza for me.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Ed called after you, making you laugh.

You forgot just how hard it was to get a bartending job as you walked down the streets of New York, it had grown cool now and you wrapped your jacket tighter around your body. Finally, you came up outside a bar called; Aslan’s which had a golden lion on a field of red on the sign. Even from the outside it looked like a dive bar but you supposed that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The bar stank of stale beer and cigarette smoke, and the floor was incredibly sticky. There was a pool table in the middle of the room and a juke box in one corner, playing loud music. The bar was a complete dive to be sure but you could also tell that it held a lot of character. You smiled at the sandy haired bartender; “I was wondering whether I could speak to the manager?” the bartender nodded and smiled at you as he walked into the back.

A couple of moments later, the bartender returned with an older man, the older man grinned at you as he offered you his hand, his eyes twinkling kindly, “I’m Aslan, the owner,” his voice had an Irish twang to it and you offered him a small smile. You were kind of surprised that he was the owner, he looked like a complete dad, and you had expected someone with tattoos and piercings, not a man in a cable jumper with his hand wrapped around a Spiderman mug.

“I’m Y/N; I was wondering whether I could give you my resume?”

“Certainly,” he smiled and you handed it over and his eyes scanned it before he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, “are you a university student?” he smiled when you nodded, “have you done bar work before?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I worked in a busy bar in the centre of London for a couple of years,” his eyes widened slightly and you could tell that he was impressed.

“Come in for a trial shift on Saturday so I can see what you’re made of.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, this was better than you could have hoped for, “I’d be glad to, thank you so much, Aslan.”

----------------------------------

Caspian knew that pre law would be difficult but he just had no idea, after only a couple of days he was exhausted. It seemed strange but he was happy, no matter how exhausted he was. He had a deal with his parents where they agreed that he could go to a school of his choice where nobody knew him. He didn’t want people to treat him any differently.

Edmund – one of his first friends from class – grinned as he clapped Caspian on the shoulder as they made their way across campus, “that Professors kind of a hard arse, huh?” he chuckled, mirth lighting up his freckled face.

Caspian smiled in response as he ran a hand through his hair, “I think that’s the lawyer that we should all strive to be.”

Ed chuckled as he looked across the quad and pointed, “oh, hey there’s Y/N. You remember her?”

Caspian glanced up and saw the pretty girl in a Sex Pistols shirt and ripped jeans with red converse. She carried an easel over her shoulder, she didn’t strike Caspian as the artistic type, “how could I forget?”

Edmund smiled as he pulled his friend into a hug, “hey, Y/N, you remember, Caspian?”

Y/N smirked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she looked Caspian up and down in a way that made him feel small. He flushed and looked away from her burning gaze, “of course I remember, Cas.”

“Caspian,” he spoke through gritted teeth as he felt a wave of annoyance wash over him as she smirked.

If Ed sensed the tension he didn’t say anything, instead he flung an arm over her shoulders, “are you coming to the party tonight?”

Y/N grimaced as she shook her head as she placed a cigarette between her red painted lips, “Aslan needs me to work a shift tonight, clearly I got through the trial period successfully,” she laughed.

Caspian raised his eyebrow at her in surprise, “you work at Aslan’s?” he chuckled, “isn’t it a shit hole?” he had never gone in and he had no intention of doing so.

Y/N glared at him, if looks could kill, he’d already be six feet under, “it’s got character, I wouldn’t expect someone,” she trailed off as she looked him up and down, a scowl on her face, “like you to understand.”

Her insinuation made his blood boil, he was starting to like her less and less by the second, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, most definitely with a scathing retort on her lips but Ed cut her to the chase, “I’m gonna go get a pretzel, does anyone want one?” he walked off before either of them could reply.

The tension was unbearable in the hot and heavy air, Caspian scowled at Y/N while she looked up at him as she took another drag of her cigarette, she looked completely unbothered. In fact, Caspian thought he saw amusement glitter in her eyes. Caspian coughed as the billow of smoke she blew out went right in his face. Normally he wouldn’t have cared but there was just something about Y/N that made him want to piss her off.

“Do you really have to do that here?” he grimaced.

Y/N smirked around the end of her cigarette but Caspian noticed that she turned to the side slightly so the smoke went in the opposite direction and he opened his mouth to thank her, stopping short when she replied, “last time I checked, this was a free country, Cas.”

Caspian clenched his jaw so tightly that he was afraid that he’d break his teeth but he didn’t bother correcting Y/N on his name. He wanted to ask her why she had it out for him, it had seemed that way ever since they met. Instead, what came out of her mouth was a stupid observation.

“I didn’t peg you for the artistic type,” he swallowed as she paused and looked up at him, the glimmer of a scowl on her face, “I had you down for a Psychology major or something, maybe that would explain why you’re manipulative,” his words were harsh but she didn’t even flinch as she crushed the stub of her cigarette beneath her shoe.

She looked away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, even though the day was warm. A flicker of emotion that he hadn’t seen before flickered across her face, “I used to paint with my dad, from a young age,” she looked back at him, that smirk was back on her face, “pre law, huh? That’s exactly the sort of major I’d expect from a trust fund baby.”

He let out a laugh and noticed that Ed was finally on his way back, pretzel in hand, “what makes you think that I’m a trust fund baby?” he asked, biting his lip.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, “oh sweetheart, with expensive clothes like that,” she gestured down at his outfit, making him scowl, “and such a pretty face, how could you not be?” she turned around to take a bit out of Edmund’s pretzel, laughing when Ed shouted out in dismay.

----------------------------------

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​ @generalblizzarddreamer​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @whiskeywinter89​

#prince caspian #caspian #prince caspian au #narnia au #college au #prince caspian fanfiction #prince caspian imagine #caspian imagine #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian x reader insert #prince caspian x you #prince caspian x y/n #you x prince caspian #caspian x reader #caspian x reader insert #caspian x you #caspian x y/n #you x caspian #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #aslan #au #fake dating au #slow burn #slow burn romance #fantasy #bin bons #ben barnes

[chockfullofsecrets]

D20 Fantasy High: Making Room

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: She grunts, presumably shoving at him and not having much success given Fabian’s triumphant snickering. “I said make room-”

Riz pries himself up off the carpet, thinking of moving to help her, when Fabian lets out a startled squeak. Everyone goes quiet.

Fig leans off the bed with truly devilish glee in her tiefling eyes. “Guys, he’s ticklish.”

The Bad Kids try to plan a sleepover, Fabian needs to learn how to share, and Riz is maybe starting to get the hang of this whole friendship thing.

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: not to be entirely into D&D on main, but - hey, look, it’s another cool D&D campaign XD shoutout to @hypahticklish for expressing enough interest in this fic to make me want to write it <3

Loose spoilers for the end of Fantasy High Season 1, beware!

---

Riz thinks he’s really starting to get a handle on this whole friendship thing.

Solving a mystery and getting thrown in jail and killing a dragon together aren’t exactly reproducible results, which kind of sucks, but - hey, the six of them are friends now, and they’re hanging out in Fabian’s room on a summer evening, and it’s novel enough to feel like a solved case all on its own.

What’s less satisfying is the amount of missed work they have to catch up on if they want to start as sophomores next year; no one bothered to worry about bringing them homework while they were in actual prison, but all their professors sure seem to care about it now. He gets the feeling that at least part of it is Aguefort trying to keep some degree of respectability after everything that happened with Goldenhoard, but any attempt to reason with him thus far has gotten nowhere but wild-eyed stares and increasingly obtuse lectures on chronomancy and time management. And sure, Riz prides himself on being able to untangle obscure information, but he’s not touching that with a ten foot pole.

They’re all sprawled out on Fabian’s floor, working through assignments with varying levels of fervor ranging from Adaine - actually working with a stack of textbooks nearly up to her shoulder next to her on Fabian’s desk - to Kristen - texting Tracker with a lack of stealth that makes Riz want to grind his teeth a little, even more so than the way she goes bright red and giggles every time her crystal pings - when Fig groans and rolls onto her back.

“You know what?” she says to the room at large, throwing her arms wide. Her hand knocks into her bard notebook, somehow both dusty with disuse and covered in scribbled ballpoint pen sigils. She flips it neatly in the air and elbows it away in Adaine’s direction, earning a half-annoyed yelp. “We should have a sleepover.”

Half of them blink uncomprehendingly, but Kristen drops her crystal in a sudden rush of excitement. “YES,” she shouts. Gorgug, propped against the wall next to her and dozing off over barbarian meditation manuals, startles. “I can show you guys so many cool camp things! We just need a bunch of different colors of yarn and some sticks and - yeah, we can probably skip the holy water to keep the sinners away-”

Riz has - he’s had sleepovers before, if Penny coming over to babysit and finding him crashed out on the couch after a night of reading old case files from his mom counts. He reaches up and straightens his cap, trying to make it look smooth. “Hey, Fabian, do you have coffee here?”

“Wait, wait, hold on a minute.” Fabian, sitting against his giant bed, waves dramatically for all their attention. He looks them over once he gets it, self-importantly adjusting his eyepatch. “Yes, The Ball, we have coffee, we’re not peasants - but sleep over where? Did I miss that part?”

“Uh, here?” Fig says, flinging herself upright. “You’re mom’s super hot - uh, cool, I bet she’d let us do anything.”

“Stop calling my mom hot!” Fabian yelps, glowering for a moment before his chest puffs with familial pride. “Well, we do have at least five guest bedrooms that we could house all of you in-”

“Oh, I don’t need a bed,” Gorgug says hastily. “I’d probably break it, I can just sleep on the floor.”

“Yeah, Fabian, no,” Kristen interjects, gesturing with her staff. Gorgug scrambles to remove the cups they’ve been drinking soda out of from her path. “We’re all supposed to hang out in the same room, that’s kind of the point!” She frowns a little, zeroing in on him. “Have you. Have you never been to a sleepover before?”

Riz hasn’t quite gotten around to making a conspiracy board of how all the specific issues of their messed up childhoods overlap, but he can read the way Fabian startles indignantly loud and clear. “Of - of course I have!” he blusters. “I just - why the fuck would you share a bed if you didn’t have to?”

Adaine scoffs. “Fabian, your bed is enormous, I think we could all fit on it with room for the Hangman left over.”

“No, it’s not!” Fabian scrambles up, chin still raised haughtily, and throws himself bodily on the bed - judging from the way his ankles hang off the edge, he’s starfishing out as far as he possibly can. “I’m - see, I’m a growing boy, I need my space! Cathilda says so.”

Adaine, having claimed the only chair in the room and therefore being the only one at eye level with the mattress, cranes her neck and laughs. “Fabian, you’re covering less than half of the bed. You can just say you’ve never been to a sleepover before, you know.”

Fig stands up and launches herself onto the bed too, landing heavily with the zippers on her leather jacket clanking behind her. “Yeah, you just have to - oof - make room-”

She grunts, presumably shoving at him and not having much success given Fabian’s triumphant snickering. “I said make room-”

Riz pries himself up off the carpet, thinking of moving to help her, when Fabian lets out a startled squeak. Everyone goes quiet.

Fig leans off the bed with truly devilish glee in her tiefling eyes. “Guys, he’s ticklish.”

The room erupts into chaos - Fabian shouting denials, Fig cackling evilly, and Kristen shooting up and banging her shins against the bed before scrambling around to Fabian’s other side. Riz hops up on the desk next to Adaine just in time to watch each of the other girls seize his outstretched arms and start to mercilessly tickle his armpits.

“GAHAHA - no, no, stoHOP-” Fabian flails helplessly between the two of them, still trying to sprawl out over the bed. He manages to wrench his arm free from Fig and shove her away even as he shouts with laughter. “Seacasters are not - ahaaa, haaAA - I’m not ticklish!”

“Oh, yeah?” Kristen taunts. “Then why are you laughing, you - ohshit-”

They’re trying to wrestle him down, but he’s too strong for Fig and too dextrous for Kristen. She lunges for him, red hair flying behind her, and falls straight into his lap.

Fabian catches both of Fig’s wrists in one big hand and uses the other to poke triumphantly at Kristen’s belly, sending her into a fit of cackling giggles. “Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly, struggling into a sitting position. “A Seacaster cannot simply be rousted from his territory!”

All of them know better than to say anything about his dad by now. “Gorgug, come help us hold him down!” Fig demands instead, kicking at Fabian with her platform boots and making him yelp in pain.

Gorgug pulls his headphones all the way off his ears and straightens just enough to take in the tangle of the three of them, looking dubious. “Are you sure? That sounds kind of mean.”

“It’s not a problem if he’s not ticklish, right, Fabian?,” Fig retorts. “And he’s breaking sleepover code by hogging the bed!"

Kristen, still laughing uproariously as she fails to save herself from Fabian’s tickling fingers, somehow manages to shoot Gorgug a pair of finger guns. “Get him, Gorgug!”

Gorgug still looks a little confused - Riz can relate - but he gamely climbs to his feet. “Well, okay.”

He pauses to knock gently on the bedframe, sighing in relief at the heavy thunk that echoes back. “Oh, cool, that’s pretty strong.”

Fig yelps as Fabian lets up on Kristen and starts prodding at her belly instead. “Gorgug, come on!”

“Oh, right,” Gorgug says, and sends the mattress an entire inch to the left as he scrambles on.

“Hell yeah!” Fig cheers as Gorgug climbs on the bed and sweeps Fabian up in a restraining hug. “Sig Figs solidarity!”

Kristen squirms out from between the three of them. “Hey, I’m here too!”

She flops down with a breathy sigh and hugs herself, grinning widely as she catches sight of the identical what-the-fuck expressions that Riz is pretty sure he and Adaine are wearing. “Ugh, I haven’t been tickled in forever.”

Adaine makes a considering sound as Kristen twists back to the battle royale happening behind her. Riz looks over at her, catches one of her ears twitching under the attention before she looks back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been tickled,” she murmurs, a little shy.

Penny’s tickled him before, and maybe his mom when he was little, but yeah, it’s been a while. He shrugs. “You think you’d like it?”

There’s another cry from the bed, and both of them whip around to look. Fig’s looming over a thoroughly trapped Fabian now - just barely, even with her horns - and wriggling her fingers evilly with gleaming eyes. “Are you going to say you’re sorry for breaking sleepover code?”

“There’s - there’s no sleepover code,” Fabian sputters, but he��s grinning sheepishly even as he squirms against Gorgug’s hold. “Gorgug, man, come on, you can’t just betray a fellow member of the Bloodrush team like this!”

“Oh - uh -” Gorgug looks pleadingly at the both of them. “But I’m in the Sig Figs too - does that mean one of you guys is going to be mad at me?”

Fabian barely blinks. “Yes.”

“YES,” says Fig, even louder.

“Oh, come on, you two.” Kristen sits up between Fig and Fabian, poking at both of their sides and cutting their protests off as they suck their lower lips between their teeth with identical wide-eyed looks. Then, with a curious tilt to her head, she reaches around to tickle Gorgug’s side too, grinning as he squeaks. “There are no sides in a tickle fight, everyone knows this.”

Riz forgets that Kristen has three little brothers, sometimes. It’s easy to, until she starts playing peacekeeper between the rest of them.

“Where are all these rules coming from?” Fabian questions indignantly. Adaine makes a sound of agreement next to Riz - is she writing these down?

Oh, who’s he kidding, he’s probably going to ask her for a copy afterwards.

Fig smirks. “Well, I think the person with their hands free should get to enforce the rules. Like so.” She reaches for the thin tank top Fabian’s wearing and scribbles her fingers over his belly, crowing in delight as he shrieks. “Not ticklish, huh? Who’s ticklish now, bitch?”

“You - ahaha, haaa, fuck - anyone’s ticklish when they’re being restrained!” Fabian insists through panicked laughter, wriggling for all he’s worth. Riz squints - maybe it’s just the rogue homework he’s been doing lately, but it looks like Gorgug’s not even holding him that tight.

He shrieks again as Kristen bounces excitedly and reaches for him too. “Nonono, NOHOHO - Kristen, ahaha! You said - eheheee, stop - you said no sihihides!”

“These are your hips, Fabian. And no sides doesn’t mean you can’t gang up on people,” Kristen sticks her tongue out in concentration, squeezing at one of his hips and then the other. “Hey, say you’re ticklish.”

“What? No - hahaha - shit, shiHIHIT-” Fabian starts to really thrash under their teasing - Riz catches him elbowing Gorgug neatly in the gut, but their barbarian absorbs the blow like it’s nothing. Riz tries not to feel jealous and doesn’t entirely succeed.

Kristen smiles beatifically from cheek to freckled cheek. “The truth’ll set you free, brother.”

Fabian shakes his head frantically, catching sight of Riz and Adaine by his desk through teary eyes. “The Ball - The Ball, help me, this isn’t - ahahaha, nonoplease - it’s not fair!” he pleads through the widest smile Riz has seen on him so far, which is saying something. “Don’t you care about justice?”

Fig looks over at them too, now, hair slipping from her braid and fangs on full display as she beams. “Yeah, you two, get over here or you’re next! You’re missing out on the sleepover fun!”

“Oh,” Adaine says uncertainly. “I didn’t know this was part of it.”

She looks over at Riz - not that he knows any better, but he’s absolutely not going to cop to it. “Oh, yeah, tickle fights,” he blusters. “Definitely part of sleepovers. To, uh, tire everyone out.”

Adaine looks out of the window at blue skies just barely starting to blush pink and gets a small, quiet grin on her face that he can’t help but return. “Oh, okay,” she says. “Riz, are you ticklish?”

Oh. Oh, no.

Riz stiffens. It doesn’t seem like anyone else has heard Adaine’s question, maybe he can get under the bed before any of them notice -

He. He could, is the thing, he’s an awesome rogue, but - out here seems pretty fun too. “That’s more of a hands-on investigation thing,” he shoots back, and leaps for the bed before she can catch hold of him.

He is, after all, an investigator first and foremost, and there’s more room to be made on that mattress.

#tickling #dimension 20 #fantasy high #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #figueroth faeth #kristen applebees #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring #chocfic #i really don't know why i decided to start with writing all six of them but uhhhh i hope the characterization is okay?

[mzmezzler]

Darling Boy - Jinyoung x Fem!Reader

shortlist: crossdressing, humiliation, sub!Jinyoung, dom!reader, Jinyoung in a maid outfit, role play, degradation, mistress kink, minor food kink (it’s just passing a drink before and during a kiss)minor cock stepping, strap sucking.

word count: 2k

summary: I can’t fake out a summary, this is just late Valentine’s porn with a semblance of plot.

a/n: Let’s give it up to the only fic I wrote in its entirety not at work! No,but why tf did this take so long. I was at it all day writing and rewriting and i barely like it.... Anyway @foenixs really helped me pick some integral parts of this fic, hope you like it!

Any and all feedback is appreciated :)

Turning to you from his side in the bed, Jinyoung looks at you expectantly, “Y/N” Humming in response, you turn your head slightly from where it’s trained to the book in your hands to show you’re listening. “What do you want for Valentine’s day?” He asks. 

Turning a page you sigh, “I’d love to see your perky ass in a skirt maybe.” You pause to settle on the idea. “Yeah, and maybe you could go about being completely oblivious, instead of your usual act cause I need a break having to deal with your-” Jinyoung cuts you off with a scoff. “Sounds like you don’t want me at all, I have to be my authentic self for you.” He replies, finishing his words with a sarcastic drawl. Setting your book down on the nightstand, and shifting your front towards him, you offer him an unamused look. “You know what I mean.” 

Smirking to himself, Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “What if I don’t?” His smugness was just one thing he knew he had over you, it was an integral part of the push and pull of your relationship in and out of bed. It took long enough for you to realize that the relationship between the two of you was even evolving since neither of you noticed the consistent bickering more times than not laced with an odd sense of longing.

However, for once, you’d like something easy. Just the version of Jinyoung that would slide easily into things without a fight, you both knew he could, but in his words “it wasn’t as fun”. 

“What’s the point of asking me what I want then?” You ask. Stumped he pouts to himself, “You know I was just teasing.” 

Still maintaining your blank stare, Jinyoung rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Knowing that’s the sign he was finally done you leaned onto him, snuggling into his die.

 “So do you want to hear what I really want?” 

“Fine”

By the night of Valentine’s the scene was set.

Lounging on the sofa of your living room in a robe, you enjoy a glass of wine and a novel while snuggled in your favorite cover. Sipping from your glass, the drink swirls in the amber glow of the low lights. Settling around the basen, and reflecting the glow of nearby candles. The living room seemed to be ripped out of a Hallmark movie, if it weren’t for the insistent sound of wet bristles scrubbing against the kitchen tile.

Swinging an arm around the back of the sofa and craning your neck towards the sound, you see a bundle of white tulle bobbing with every stroke. At the center of the mess of fabric was Jinyoung's bum wiggling in his haste. It was a glorious sight, drinking in the man in his costume, working like your little maid. Faced away from you, you drink in the sight of his skirt and the white panties stretched across his ass. Lined with white and black fabrics down to the garters holding up his stockings, you can only take another long sip of your wine. 

You hear small grunts and a sigh as Jinyoung sits back on his knees. Suddenly turning towards you with a small smile, he wipes the sweat from his brow. With the full outfit on display, you take notice of how the dress hugs his waist and is subtly cinched by the ties of the apron that lies along his front. There’s a knowing glint in his eyes, but still, he kneels across the room from you to be ogled under your hungry gaze. Squirming in his place he stutters “Mistress, I’ve finished cleaning”

 “Come here darling” You reply, motioning towards the spot in front of the sofa. 

Getting onto his hands and knees, Jinyoung never breaks the heated stare between the two of you as he crawls across the floor. You could now see the pink flush painting his face, an adorable touch to the obscene picture the man put on. Untying your robe, you reveal a lingerie set of your own. Almost contrasting the frills of Jinyoung's costume you opted for a crisp red, matching the strap nestled tight onto your groin. Jinyoung's pace falters at your unveiling, seemingly taking you in as you did before.

Now kneeling between your legs, you caress Jinyoung’s face and smile as his eyes flutter shut at the affection. Moving your hand to tilt his chin up you press your thumb into the man’s mouth. Jinyoung drops his mouth open at your intrusion, licking at the finger. Swirling your thumb over his tongue, you both stare at each other with heavy eyes. 

Removing the finger from the man’s mouth,  a trail of spit follows. Jinyoung whines out at the emptiness, and before he could pout for more you slip your foot underneath his skirt. The hitch in his breath quickly becomes a deep groan as you press the ball of your foot onto his half hard bulge. Snickering at his reaction you grip his chin and dig your heel in harder, “You know what I won’t take any brattiness today. You’re supposed to be my darling boy for once.” You take a long drag from the wine glass and set it down on the coffee table. 

Swallowing most of what's in your mouth you tip back Jinyoung's head, "And you're supposed to obey and take what I give." Ghosting your mouth over his, you trace his lips with yours before opening your mouth to drip wine into the Jinyoung’s mouth. Gasping at the sudden flow of the drink into his mouth, Jinyoung gulps the wine heavily. With a hand on his chin, and the other running over his styled hair.

As the flow stops, you both pant into each other’s mouths before meeting in a wet kiss.

The facade almost fades as the kiss turns suffocating, gripping Jinyoung’s hair and pulling away a string of spit still binds you too together. 

With a dazed look on his face, Jinyoung looks up at you with slightly parted lips, whether they were reddened more by the wine or your assault didn’t matter. Cooing at the sight, you loosen your grip, only to clench your fist in his hair making him groan out. “Are we going to be good then love” Blinking the moisture from his eyes Jinyoung nods, “Yes mistress, I’ll be good.”

You widen your legs and move to fully take off your robe, "Then make yourself useful."  

Jinyoung parts his mouth and lays his tongue flat against your inner thigh, tracing up to your groin he goes nose around the base of the strap. Opening his mouth to lick at the head he opts to put on a show for you, knowing that you can’t feel his motions. 

“You always looked so pretty while sucking my cock” You were smirking, head tilted while the man writhed under his maid outfit. You could see it in the way his thighs clench and twitch while he moves to wrap his lips around the tip. “You look like a doll, pretty lips, wide eyes, and all” Running a hand through his hair you grip at the strands and push the man further down your shaft, successfully making him gag. Moving him to slowly fuck his mouth, Jinyoung moans at the intrusion. The vibrations shake your skin while Jinyoung drinks in the burn now nestled in his throat.

“It feels good to be used like a whore doesn’t it?” You smirk.

Popping off of your member with a gasp Jinyoung looks up at you with wide eyes , “More Mistress...please" Narrowing your eyes, you chuckle at his desperation, “I need to prep you love” 

Jinyoung wipes the spit from his chin and pipes up again,  “I-i did that myself, Mistress." The needy look in his wide eyes is enrapturing as he stutters out his reply, " I did it in the shower before I got ready, thinking about you." 

Imagining Jinyoung under the steaming water of a shower working his fingers into himself, panting out to deaf ears is enough to make you freeze and stare at him with a heavy gaze. He's half defiled in his dress with garters askew and his apron slightly wrinkled with a few drops of wine staining the previously pristine white. You can see his bugle warping the fabric with every heavy breath, it's obscene.

"You don't know what you do to me." You say. Moving onto the floor, you press your lips against Jinyoung's while pushing him onto the ground. Sliding on top of him you cage your arms around his face and look down the man. 

Lying flat against the floor, Jinyoung’s hair is completely undone and spread out in wild tufts.

“You’re so beautiful like this Jinyoung, spread out for me and hard under your panties like my little whore.” You pause to move your hand under his skirt to prove your point. He was hard and leaking through the lace, gripping onto his erection you smile softly at the hard jerk he gives at your touch. 

Leaning down to bite at his ear you chuckle, “Do you want me to make it hurt baby?” 

Jinyoung nods slowly.

Pulling at the lace panties you unfasten the garters and slip the fabric down to the man’s thighs, “Can you hold your legs up for me baby.” 

Wrapping his arms around his thighs, Jinyoung’s legs hang above him as you toy with his wet hole. Plunging in one of your fingers, it slides in with no resistance and only results in a whine from the man below you. 

Giving a sharp spank to the side of his ass, “Don’t get cute now. I’ll leave you right here leaking all over the carpet so you can clean it up after you finish rutting against my leg.”

“I’m sorry mistress” Jinyoung moaned out.

 “I don’t have to fuck you, but this is for me.” You press. 

Lining up your cock with Jinyoung’s entrance, you slap your strap against his hole.

Pushing into the man, you groan at how easy the slide was as you bottom out in him. Wrapping your arms around Jinyoung’s legs you start to thrust into him slowly, building up a grueling pace that would punch out the filthiest moans from your lover. 

Pulling the panties past his knees you part the man’s legs to wrap them around your waist. You change the angle of your thrusts, groaning at the twisted look on his face, “How does it feel Jinyoungie, to be used like my darling whore on the floor of our living room, does it get you off knowing this is how you really are?”

Deepening your thrusts, you move a hand between you to fist Jinyoung’s own dick. He hisses at the sudden attention, crying out as you start to pump his cock in time with your thrusts. 

Jinyoung is a mess under you, drool once again running down his chin while faint whimpers are punched out of him. His eyes are heavy with tears as he holds his skirt up for you.

Suddenly squeezing his eyes shut he stills and cums with a shout, spilling onto the frills of his skirt. 

Sitting back against the sofa, you let your head rest on the edge as you catch your breath. “Thank you for this love.” You pant. Looking over at Jinyoung, he seems to be in the same state having shifted to lie his whole body flat on the floor. Running a hand through his sweaty hair he chuckles, “Happy Valentines Y/N”

#sub!idol #sub!kpop #dom!reader #sub!got7 #sub!jinyoung #jinyoung x you #jinyoung x reader #jinyoung smut #got7 smut

[dilfbane]

Your Weeping(Your Need For His Touch)

Summary: When things go south on a mission, you have to confront more than just the sketchy town, cartoon villains, and one-bed hotel room you’re forced to share with Loki. You have to come to terms with not only the consequences of being captured, but also the God of Mischief’s feelings for you - Because for all that he might be an asshole, sometimes, he really does have a heart. Written for the Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words 6k Follower Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard 

Pairing: Loki/(Female)Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and medical treatment, as well as discussions of the inevitable mindset around sacrificing oneself for the mission that I feel like being part of the Avengers would entail. Also swearing, because at its core, this story started out as a bit of a crack! fic. 

Word Count: 7.8k. 

A/N: So apparently when I have mental breakdowns they result in me writing crack-fic that takes a 180 veer into angst and fluff for absolutely no reason. For the sake of the crack-fic, in this timeline Loki was forced to help the Avengers take down bad guys directly after the end of the first Avengers movie, so… Is that a confusing plot hole I didn’t know how to account for except by making this AU? Maybe. Did I do it anyway?…. Yeah. This really was meant to be a crack-fic about Loki and the reader confessing their feelings set in the bizarre world of meme culture, I didn’t realize there were going to be feels in it until it was three in the morning and all of a sudden this happened. That being said, your girl went there, so enjoy! 

“Oh, shit,” You say, as you take in the grimy hotel room. The walls all smeared in what looks like dried blood, the putrid smell of rotten eggs, a crack-screened television with a fine dusting of some suspiciously white powder. And, of course, “There’s one bed.” 

“Hmm?” Asks Loki, turning towards you, briefly, from unpacking. He had dumped his suitcase(Magically plucked out of a chaotic liminal space) unceremoniously on the bed’s scratching, pilling coverlet without so much as a second glance at the rest of the room. And why do you need a suitcase, anyways?? You wonder. It isn’t like we’re planning to be here that long. In fact, you hoped with every fiber of your being that you’d be here for as little time as possible, because this town might actually be the sketchiest place you’ve ever seen in your life; no small feat, for a bona-fide member of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

You’ve kicked alien ass on a mutated purple Mongolian death-worm three thousand feet over New York City. You’ve run reconnaissance to rescue debatably-magical items sequestered away in an ancient cave labyrinth plastered in paintings and untranslatable runes, gunfire and what could only be described as the baying of hellhounds in the near distance. You’ve fist-fought a gigantic hive-mind robot in a field of artificially sentient feral steel suits - You’ve even survived Tony’s parties. 

Yet none of those scenarios hold a candle to this fucking town. 

And Loki, the asshat, seems utterly, competently - no, maniacally - unfazed. 

“There’s one bed,” You repeat, into the air. 

“Ah,” Says Loki, straightening. 

“You don’t see that problem with that?!” 

“Should I?” He asks you, walking across the room in long, graceful strides to stand in front of you. He wears the same expression he always wears, amused and indifferent, but this time with the addition of a single, elegantly-arched eyebrow. You drop your head, refusing to meet his somewhat-curious gaze. It physically hurts, how attractive Loki is. Not for the first time, you curse whatever god decided that you and him would once again be mission partners - in this case, you belatedly realize, and choke back a thick laugh, said god is, unsurprisingly, Thor. 

If you survive this, you make a note to beat his head in with Mjolnir. As it is, you are here in this room with Loki, with perhaps twenty IPP agents and a reckless poisoner dogging your every move, and there’s a high chance that you won’t live long enough to navigate whatever the hell sleeping with your crush-who-has-murdered-men. Ok, so ‘murdered men’ isn’t entirely accurate. More like ‘caused the murder of men inadvertently through his schemes’. It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, right now. 

And what about Loki? He is still staring you down, like you’re some wind up toy moments away from going off. Funny, that, you think. If ever there were a time to not have a mental breakdown, it would be here, with him. You’ve crossed a lot of moral lines in your life, but you will be damned if you let Loki Laufeysson see you cry. Loki is graceful. Composed. Sarcastic. Lithe. Rolls his eyes at almost every statement that comes out of somebody’s mouth. But he is, also, beautiful. Shockingly comforting, in his own nihilistic way. You don’t know what it says about you that you find comfort in statements like, Try not to die, you know that I hate funerals. Part of you - most of you - doesn’t want to. But it gives you strength, somehow, to shrug off the day and ground your flailing mind in evading Loki’s calculated manipulation. I won’t show you my weakness, you think to yourself. It’s not enough, but it’s a start. 

“No,” You tell him - too quickly, he’ll pick up on that - “You’re right, you shouldn’t. It’s fine. We have - a lot to deal with, is all.” 

Loki nods, seemingly accepting your answer, but his eyes are still narrowed, watching you like he’s calling your bluff. You talk right past that look - have to, to keep yourself sane, to not think about the one bed that looms large over this entire conversation. It doesn’t even look like a comfortable bed. 

“We have two days,” You say, to stop yourself thinking of it. And, also, to talk your way through your disarmingly disjointed thoughts. Loki nods. It would really help if you said something, you think. Swallow the thought, hot and thick, down your throat. What’s the point of a mission partner if you can’t even soundboard off them? “The Pink Cobra could strike anyone, anytime. The IPP is planning something in New York - “ 

“Isn’t everyone, these days, planning something in New York?” 

He sounds regretful, and for half a second you want to offer him the reassurance that his very presence offers you. But you are sure he doesn’t know what he does to you - with his words, with the sidelong glances that you’ve felt linger on your form far too long in the heat of a fight. If you didn’t know any better, you would say Loki worries about you. 

“We have to shut him down,” You say. Focus on the Pink Cobra, because honestly, that’s easier. “Find out where he manufactures. Not get poisoned,” You add, at the end. 

“Yes,” Loki says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “We should certainly try not to get ourselves killed. Failing that, I suppose, we can at least request that no one in H.Y.D.R.A gets autopsy access.” 

“Loki?” You ask. Rhetorically. “You’re not helping.” 

He smirks at you, then. He knows. 

“What do you propose that we do then?” He asks, taking a step towards you, getting so close that you can feel his hot breath. “About the Pink Cobra?” 

“Find him.” You say, fumbling, blush rising high on your cheeks. 

Tonight? 

One bed? 

You are screwed. 

                                                             ***

When you were a kid - think really little, Capri Sun pouches and still believing that true love wasn’t complicated - your father told you that every story needed a good supervillain. You aren’t sure if the Pink Cobra counts as a good supervillain, but he’s the least confusing one that you have to deal with - and, as far as villains go, a fine enough challenge to face. He’s like a madman out of some high fantasy novel, with dark eyes and a sable-sewn cloak and a penchant for poisoning. He is adept in all the arts of the woman’s murder; he has a keen grasp on the side-effects of arsenic and camphor and tansy and cyanide and strychnine. He’s been found to have dropped crystal phials filled with belladonna and ricin while fleeing a scene. If all else fails, he’s more than practiced with daggers. 

In other words, he’s the kind of villain that none of you, with your flying suits and telekinesis and super-strength, are anywhere near prepared to waylay. 

The plan, as far as team Avengers is concerned, is easy: 

You and Loki. This town, where the webs of his manufacturing production and the few glimpses of information that Thor has totally legally excavated out of his captured minions has led to. Two days until some undefined grand attack bears down on the city you live in. Two days to find the Pink Cobra and kill him. The more time passes with no headway, the more you think that this is an impossible task, but you know what Tony would say. We have our best minds on it. 

The thing is, you aren’t sure that that’s true. The minds that have been set to this task are you and the God of Lies. It’s hardly the best they could have come up with, considering your track records. Actually, you take that back - Loki was a good choice for this mission, because, not three hours after arriving in this hellhole of a city, he seems to have somehow developed the ability to read minds. More specifically, yours. And that could prove stunningly useful. 

The scene, as it stands: Loki, sprawled across the lumpy bed, three pairs of crisp white shirts, a plaid scarf, and a full set of Asgardian battle armor neatly hung in the mothball-infested closet, flicking through channels on the grain, cracked television with an apathetic expression and one arm thrown haphazardly over bent leg. Propped up in such a way that he could jump or spin or parry at a moment’s notice, yet perfectly, devastatingly languid, leafing through Nick Fury’s dossier on the Pink Cobra. He looks at you like a god, you think, and then remember. He is one. 

You, on the floor, because on top of all the other things this hotel doesn’t have, like two beds, there isn’t anything even resembling a desk, shifting through a glowing, holographed file archive from headquarters that barely runs on your severely outdated laptop. It’s a point of pride to you, keeping the laptop - not because it’s good, but because it’s survived five years of being an Avenger, which is something not even all the Avengers can claim to have done. You’re also fairly certain that Tony’s attempts to update the firmware had infested it with some sort of renegade virus. Elevated above your screen, the files are split into two groups, the sum total of everything that you know about both of the groups that are avidly trying to kill you. 

There’s the wealth of information containing the Pink Cobra’s poisoning sprees, but those aren’t the files that interest you, and you know that Loki’s not much interested in them either. That honor falls to the fanatics at the IPP, the Imminently Predictable Psyops organization, which you know even less about than you do about the Pink Cobra, chief among which the fact that they need a new name. Imminently Predictable Psyops?, Tony had said, when you’d finally apprehended one of their proxies. What do they think this is? Some type of ARG? 

What you’ve gleaned, from months worth of studying the network, is that they operate as a sort of cringe-oriented death cult intent on ‘reshaping the universe through meme agents’. They’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar for a long time - upwards of a year - before anyone at team base learned they existed - which, you can almost hear Loki saying, was a failure in the extreme. Currently, it was your job to obsessively worry over whether they were going to send ‘meme agents’ to bust through the door of your seedy hotel room and off you both. You hated - truly loathed - how casually Loki was taking it all. 

He’s acting like nothing was wrong with this situation, when, in fact, you’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that this night will end up with one or both of you dead. It is, to say the least, disconcerting. 

Kill switch, the holograph files read. Cross-referential Neil Cicierega acoustic weaponry. Your mind sees the words, but doesn’t comprehend them, and you run a hand up to rub at your bleary eyes with annoyance. You risk a glance upwards; on the bed, Loki scans page after page after page with disinterested nonchalance, punctuating the flipping over of each document with a noncommittal hum; as if to say, I understand you. As it to say, This could be worse. You try to slip into that mindset. Certainly, things could be worse. 

Actually, though? Not really. 

Because, for all the world, the holo-file in front of you just said ‘Pepe The Frog Chaos Banking Laser Initiative’. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?!” 

“Sorry?” 

You whip your head around. Loki, raising an eyebrow. Damn that - perfect - eyebrow. 

“Sorry,” You echo back at him, rubbing your eyes again, perversely glad for the break, even if it is this awkward. “I … said that out loud, didn’t I?” 

“Marginally,” He tells you. “Yes.” 

“Sorry,” You - well, it’s not a whine, not exactly. You’re tired, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, so you feel like your tone’s justified. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I’m just - this is. Completely nonsensical.” 

“Show me?” He asks, and you snort. He could totally just look up, but - 

“Do you have a P.h.d in memes?” You ask him, and, before he can answer, “Because unless you have a P.h.d in memes, I don’t think you’ll be able to help.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Loki says. Vaults over the bed with the speed and grace of a panther, filling the air with a cringing wheeze as the rusty springs bend underneath him, and landing in front of the holo-file, pushing you aside slightly to get a better view. When his fingers brush against your side, cool and firm, you flinch. 

“Tired,” You offer, when he shoots you a momentarily concerned look. “Just. Need to sleep, later, I think.” 

But Loki is already scanning the file, and when he looks up, not five seconds later, you want to hit somebody. Preferably, you think, him. 

“I would assume,” Loki says, “That they’re using time travel in order to obtain and store monetary value by way of a Pepe-the-frog inspired laser array.” 

“Oh,” You say. You blink once. Blink twice. Still have no idea what that means. “Right.” 

“Do you not know your memes, love?” He asks you, smirking. And oh, if you don’t feel things. 

“I don’t go on the internet, much,” You tell him. “Too busy, you know, trying not to get killed.”

 Loki shrugs. Sidles away from the file. The groan and squeak of those springs tells you he’s back on the bed, giving you some well-needed space, but you can’t bring yourself to look. 

“You can sleep,” He says, “If you want.” 

“Ha!” You yelp/choke/embarrassingly bleat out into the room’s stale silence. Underneath the rotten eggs, you catch a whiff of bong-water. “No.” 

“There’s a bed,” Loki says, cocking his head pointedly and patting the lumpy covers. 

“Yeah, that’s - kind of the problem.” 

“Why?” He asks you. 

“You - really?” 

“I was only asking,” Says Loki, re-focusing his attention on whichever Pink Cobra document’s next in the folder. “If you aren’t comfortable telling me - I merely thought, seeing as you were tired, you might take this opportunity to rest.” 

“Yeah,” You  tell him, “Of course, that’s - nice of you.” 

It comes out stilted. Patently off. If he notices, he doesn’t say. 

“Are you going to - um. Do you need help, with the rest? The ones I have seem kind of hopeless. I mean,” You say, when he doesn’t look up, “I don’t think that we have to worry about getting demolished by trans-dimensional Agarthian wormholes.” 

“Of course not,”” Loki says, scoffing and incredulous, gaze, you are sure, on his page. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d send someone with a gun.” 

In reality, it’s several someones. 

                                                             ***

“You jinxed it,” Is the first thing you tell him, when the men leave you. They’ve thrown you into a one-room warehouse, rickety shelves stacked with cartoonish tubs of green goop and mildewing boxes filled with grenades and machine guns and what appears, at second-glance, to be twelve-fingered latex gloves. You’re tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and your throat feels uncharacteristically parched. Fear, you tell yourself. Apprehension. “Can’t you just - use your seidr to magic us out of this?” 

If you could see him - which you can’t, because you’ve been tied back to back - you’d swear that Loki was glaring. 

“Do you - do you have a plan?” You ask, after a moment. 

“I’m working on it,” He says. 

“That’s all?” You say. “We were dragged out of our drug-dealer’s hotel room by a bunch of robed men with guns and the only thing you have to say is ‘I’m working on it?’” 

“I’d get it done faster,” Says Loki, “If you wouldn’t interrupt me.” 

“Ok,” You tell him, “No interrupting you. Got it. That’s - Alright.” 

Unfortunately, not interrupting him is easier said than done, because without the sound of your voice, you are left to your thoughts. 

The men had broken in nearly immediately after Loki’s glib, sardonic retort to your worries, shooting the glass out of the room’s already half-smashed-in window and kicking the door in simultaneously. A bit much, isn’t it?, Loki’d asked, and you had wanted to smack yourself on the forehead. Really not the time, you had hissed, but Loki hadn’t seemed to hear you. Do you do this with everyone they send you to assassinate?, he had asked, instead. The men had been dressed in long, billowing cloaks of bright red, embroidered with orange snakes framing a picture of Beaker from the muppets with early 2000’s emo hair. Chaotic meme agents, you had thought to yourself. So that’s what they’re supposed to look like. 

You hadn’t picked up, until now, on the snakes. 

“They’re working together,” You say, when you can’t stand the playback of Loki being disarmed after spinning and tossing his silver daggers at the men, of the men kneeing him in the balls and twisting your arms behind your back, holding a gun to your head to stop you from trying to fight. Waking up in the back of a van that smelled like microwaved fish. Being tossed like garbage onto the floor of the warehouse, painted in bruises and cuts from the small pieces of glass that had dug their way into your skin. “The IPP and the Pink Cobra.” 

“Obviously,” Loki says. Sharply. 

“Did Tony not -“ 

“Stark,” Loki practically growls, and, ok, you’re not losing it but that did make you jump in your skin, “Is an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to connect the dots if they were presented to him in a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode.” 

“That’s - You had that on Asgard?” You ask him, momentarily distracted. You wish that you could see Loki’s face, and are very glad that you can’t. 

“That isn’t the point,” Loki says. 

“I know,” You tell him. You’re scared that your voice is trembling. Scared that he can tell, even though he’s not facing you, how badly your fingers are shaking. Scared that he knows your worst, biggest secret - 

That, despite being an Avenger, you are anxious. That, despite him being Loki, despite him being here, and wonderfully, infuriatingly himself, he cannot help you, this time. 

You are going to die, covered in cuts and abrasions, on the floor of a meme network’s headquarters, at three a.m in the morning. They are going to come in with umbrellas that shoot poison darts or the ex-presidents Point Break masks and mow you down, and Loki has no fucking plan. You feel the ropes tighten where they’re knotted, itchy and fierce, and you have to fight to keep yourself from whining in terror and nerves. Whining isn’t what Loki needs right now. Whining’s not going to save you. 

What is going to save you, you try and remind yourself, is Loki. If you can shut up. If you can let him decipher what needs to be done. If he can figure out some way to do it before the blowtorch-wielding robed vigilantes or some disincarnate meme god comes back and draws their electronically-sharpened fingernails across your throat hard enough to split skin and sinew, send waves of blood down the front of your shirt like a river of sweet, thick red honey and toss your corpse in a ditch by a highway and - 

“Y/N?” It is foggy, barely-heard. Posh. “Y/N!” Louder, this time. There are fingers on your wrist, bent backwards to grip you. Squeezing, insistent and there. “Breathe.” 

Fuck, you think. You’d started to hyperventilate. To shake, with a full-body tremor that forecasts a great, unstoppable wave of sobbing panic. And Loki had noticed. “I need you to trust me,” He says. “Trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that for me, darling?” 

He has never called you darling before, but God how you’ve wanted him to. You feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart - because there is no way he means it, no way that this is anything other than a desperate and cruel attempt to get you to calm down. Something that belies how obvious you are. How needy you are. How pathetic. And yet - 

And yet, he doesn’t say it meanly. He speaks like he cares about you, and in the face of your impending death, you want to think Loki cares. You’d let him say anything, do anything to you, right now. More than that, though, more than any of that - as you think back to meeting him, to your blossoming late-night friendship and twitchy banter and the quiet moments you’ve shared with him in-between battles - 

“I trust you, Loki,” You tell him, and feel your breath quiet in you. Feel yourself growing still and calm with the certainty that Loki will do as he’s said. 

That you will survive this. 

That -

“Good,” Loki says. Not relieved, but determined. Leaving you no room to argue. 

“So what do we do?” You ask him. 

“Nothing,” Says Loki, and you can hear his wide grin. 

“Nothing?” You ask him, gawking.

 “Nothing,” Says Loki. He gives your hand a tight squeeze. 

And then the Pink Cobra walks in. 

                                                             ***

This will end badly, you think. It’s about the only thing that you can think, preoccupied as you are with - 

It might be easier not to - 

Fuck. 

The thing is - and you really do try not to move, not to groan, not to scream - the thing is, you thought that when Loki said he had a plan, that said plan wouldn’t involve you being collateral damage for a LARP-er who’d most likely broken out of an asylum. I wish that we could be back in that shitty one-bed hotel room, you think to yourself, and - alright, not the best timing, but it rips a laugh out of you, spiraling and unhinged, before you feel the Pink Cobra, resplendent in coral cloak and villainous swagger, slug you one in the jaw. It hurts worse than you’d thought it would - you’ve never really gotten injured on missions, you’re usually good at talking yourself out of things, which is why the Avengers keep you around. You can speak any language, as long as you’ve heard it once, and your customary daily awkwardness can shift into persuasion like flicking a light-switch on. 

Usually, though, you had an opportunity to speak, and weren’t rendered speechless by - 

Loki, if you’re being honest. How much you want to kiss him. How much of an asshole he is. Trust me, he’d asked you. Can you do that for me? The Pink Cobra’s grip is sharp and bruising on your side; he’s slipped his fingers up your shirt and is pressing the point on your side that threatens to make your knees buckle, making bile rise up in your throat, driving you wild with the aching need to flee. He has one hand clasped over your mouth, now that you’ve quieted, and you can feel something - pain, and a pill - pressed snugly into his palm. He will force it down you, you know, if Loki so much as sighs wrong. 

You’ll never trust him again. 

You wish that you knew what the time was. If you end up dying at 4:20, you’re going to throw fists with somebody in hell. 

You wish, also, for aspirin. Avengers training has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of getting punched in the face. You can already feel your jaw starting to swell, taste an egregious amount of blood. You’re pretty sure that the force of the blow knocked a tooth out. 

What strikes fear into you, though - a fear somehow deeper than the absolutely bone-chilling, blood-curdling knowledge of what the Pink Cobra might do to you - is the look you’d seen on Loki’s face in the seconds after he’d grabbed you, before it fell into practiced, amused apathy. He’d gone white, and his eyes had blown wide. His fingers had spasmed with anger. 

He’d looked as scared as you feel. 

And you have no idea why. 

It isn’t like you’re anyone special. Not any more than the rest of the team. Less so than most of them. You aren’t a god, like Loki and Thor are. You don’t have stealth-assassin training, like Bucky, or super-strength like Steve. You can’t seamlessly pilot mechanical suits over the New York skyline like Tony, or use a crossbow like Clint, or beat thirty people in single-hand combat like Nat, or change into a nitro-fueled rage machine like Bruce. 

You can’t do anything, much. 

Except, apparently, die.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not letting yourself look at him. You won’t let Loki’s disinterested face be the last thing that you see. It makes the Pink Cobra’s words all the worse, when he speaks. His voice is dark and sick and timbered, and you feel maggots crawling over your skin as he slots you closer to his body, tightening his already painful grip on you so that you can’t move even an inch away from his tensed, coiled muscles. 

“So,” He says, “You are superheroes? How long did it take me, to apprehend you? Ah - three and a half hours? Tell your boss-man, do better next time.” 

“I’ll pass it along,” Loki says. His voice sounds different. You can’t place why. Still won’t look. 

“You won’t,” The Pink Cobra says. You can feel his shoulders rise, then fall. Feel him smirk. You love Loki’s smirk - secretly delight in drawing it from him, sometimes - but the Pink Cobra’s only fills you with yet more terror. You’ve pursed your lips tightly shut against the intrusion of his hand, but when Loki speaks he forces your bruised, bleeding jaw open and shoves the pill into your mouth. The pain of your injury tears through you like white lightning and you thrash, trying to escape. A keening sound claws its way out of you, fevered and anguished, and you feel your hands, still bound up in ropes, trying in vain to push off and away. The man behind you sighs, and then aims a swift kick at the back of your knees, which sends you down before you can so much as yelp. Your knees hit the floor, and he’s holding you by your hair now, twisting it so hard that you’re almost sure he’ll scalp you. He’s pulled something - too big to be be a knife, some kind of shortsword?! - Out from beneath his cloak, and is pressing it up against the column of your throat. You feel the weight of the capsule between your teeth heavily now, and realize what it means in the split-second before the Pink Cobra bends and whispers, Your choice; stale and rancid into the shell of your ear. 

Next, he addresses Loki. 

“You’ll be wanting to know what our plan is,” He says. Our, you think. We were right. “Hmm? I know how you people are. Always wanting to know. Tell me this, Mischief Man. What will I get, if I tell you? What price are you willing to pay?” 

You know what this is. You know it like the ache in your heart when Loki brushes you off. Like the safety you feel in his arms. You open your eyes. Take in Loki’s face - he’s trying to hide, but you know, you know how he feels. You know what he’s going to choose. 

And you know that you can’t let him choose it. 

“You’ll let her go,” Loki asks, “If we let you leave here?” 

“The thing could be managed.” 

No, you think. No, Loki, don’t! Whatever the Pink Cobra’s going to do, whatever the IPP’s planning, knowing’s worth more than your life. 

“One thing I want to know,” Loki says. He’s twirling a knife of his own, a slim silver number he keeps on him at all times, and you feel the blade on your own throat start to dig in - not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. The threat of it. The promise of it, and the coldness of the gleaming metal. “You and the IPP? How does it fit?” 

“You want information from me?” The Pink Cobra asks. Lets his blade bite you, just barely, and the strength it takes for you not to scream is more strength then you’d known you possess. 

“Yes,” Says Loki. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

He meets your gaze. You meet his. You hope that he cannot read it. His eyes are so worried, so desperate, you nearly break down. 

“I suppose,” The Pink Cobra says, “That you’ve earned it. Getting here - getting this far - it must have been no easy task. Fine. There is no Imminently Predictable Psyops organization. They were a - what do you call it? Red herring? A scent of blood for the shark.” 

“You fabricated them,” Loki says. “Why would you fabricate them?” 

He is losing his composure, you can tell. You will never be ready for this. He will never be ready for this. You hope that he will forgive you, and you know that he never will, and you swallow the pill in your mouth. 

“Because it was fun,” The Pink Cobra says. 

And then your body knows pain. 

                                                             ***

“He didn’t think I would do it,” You say. Your mouth feels thick, clotted with blood and shock, and your body is one raw, gaping wound, but the giddy feeling of victory has begun to course through your veins. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. You had waited for the moment of death to come, and it hadn’t. The pill is fake, your mind had screamed. But there’d been one thing left, that might work. You had breathed as slowly as you possibly could, forced every muscle of your scared, writhing body into single-minded limpness, rolled your eyes backwards into your head,  drew one last breath in, and fallen. Twitched, for a few seconds, like a rag-doll. Then made yourself still. 

Loki had slit the Pink Cobra ear to ear, beaten him within an inch of his life as he bled out, screaming like a man deranged. He’d left him a wet, bloody mess on the floor, and the blood had run down the not-quite-steady plane of it, pooling around you and mixing with the blood from your jaw, from the evening’s earlier glass cuts, from the deep, burning stab wound the Cobra had got on your arm. 

You breathe, and your body knows pain. 

You look at Loki, and your body knows pain. 

He is shaking. Visibly shaking. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he looks as pale as bleached bones. His eyes are shot red - he had sobbed, when you fell, and a howl had torn through his body. You don’t know what to do, what it means, what the hell even to say to him. His cheeks are tear-stained, his breaths ragged. 

You blink, and your body feels pain. 

“We won,” You croak out. “Loki, we won.” It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. “I think he broke one of my ribs.” 

You don’t mean to say that last part, but you do, and you are the one crying now, because it feels like he probably has, and you can barely even stay awake through this pain. It feels like the Hulk is pulling you limb from limb. Like all of those nightmares you’ve had where Loki decided to leave you - to go back to Asgard, and never speak to you again. 

Stupid, you think. He won’t, again. Not after this. 

Loki still hasn’t spoken. He’s looking at you, and his eyes are wild. Desperately, jaggedly roaming your body. His fists twitch with every new part of your body they land on. 

“That bad, huh - Oh, fuck.” 

And just like that, the tension leaves Loki’s body. The dam that had held him firmly in place is broken, and he’s running towards you with none of his usual grace. Dropping down by your side. He hoists you, and you hiss, and the tears won’t stop coming, so you bury your face in his shirt, nose pressed at the crisply ironed collar. Don’t care that it’s bleeding, because Loki’s here now. Holding you. Keeping you real. He’s got one hand stroking your hair and his touch feels right, nothing like the Pink Cobra’s, and he’s whispering: You brave, precious, idiot, how dare you, how dare you throw your life away like that?! 

“It worked,” You exhale - it’s the most you can manage. You would laugh, if it wouldn’t shred you to pieces. Loki cradles you fiercely, hands grasping at the sweat-and-blood soaked fabric of your shirt, running over you as if he doesn’t believe you’re alive. “It - hurts,” You get out. Barely. “Loki, it - I can’t -“ 

“Don’t,” He tells you. His voice has gone brittle, choked with thorns. “Don’t talk. Don’t - Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me? You will never do that again.” 

If I need to, I will, you think. And you wonder if that’s why you’re here. Wonder if that’s why you’re strong. You wonder, and hurt, and believe. Feel the strength of him, clutching you like you’re the only thing in the world, taking in greedy lungfuls of your weeping, your need for his touch. 

You can’t talk, anymore. It hurts too badly. But you surge, upwards, up into where he’s holding the back of your head, pressing your forehead into the dark, warm space under his jaw that smells like smoke and peppermint. Loki is taller than you are - you fit right into the curve of his neck, and his long curls curtain you in a bubble of warmth and content. 

“Promise,” You say, but it comes out unintelligible, and Loki’s hands are running, so gently, over your skin. 

“What was your plan?” You ask him, forcing it out of your body. 

“Hush,” Loki says, “Later.” 

There might not be any later, you think. Not like this. 

                                                             ***

In the hotel room, an ocean of scattered pages and ceiling mold and blessed privacy, you balance, cross-legged, on the bed. The wind blows wet and cold from an earlier rain through the busted out window. You have managed this out of sheer stubborn-ness, because it is the most that Loki allowed you to do. You’d passed out, twice, on the journey back - he had magicked you there, though it had taken a considerable amount of effort that you weren’t sure you really deserved - and had immediately propped you up on the pillows and stooped to ruffle through his suitcase, emerging not long after with binding tape, cat-gut thread, and a needle so sharp you could feel it slicing your flesh. You had opened your mouth to protest, but Loki had silenced you with a glare that could fell Director Fury. So you had gone quiet, and caved, letting him kneel over you on the distinctly lumpy mattress and begin inspecting your wounds. It had taken a few tries and a Please to convince him to let you sit on your own, and it hurt much more than the manner in which he’d arranged you. You were starting to, slightly, regret it. 

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, pulling it from bleeding lips. He shushes you with a harsh, stern tut. “You’re not my mother,” You tell him. 

“You could have died,” Loki says. There’s a snarling undercurrent to it that you can’t even start dissecting. “What were you thinking?” He asks. It is easier, though still painful, for you to answer him - he had used nearly half of his Thor-limited magic reserve to perform a basic stasis spell on your injuries, but the spell wouldn’t last forever. You’ll need stitches, he’d said, choking it out like he was the hurt one when he’d seen the number the Cobra’s blade had done to your arm. 

“I’ve had worse,” You say, grinning weakly. 

“Are you lying to me?” He asks you, with the tone of someone who’s distinctly not in the mood for joking. 

“I thought,” You say. Steel yourself. “I thought you weren’t going to do what needed to be done. So I - Did it myself.” 

“What needed to be done.” Loki says, enunciating every word. 

“We couldn’t let him walk away,” You say, meeting his eyes. Emerald, clouded with fury. You don’t let yourself flinch from that anger. You don’t let yourself run from your choice. “You know what he would have done.” 

“I don’t,” Loki says. “I know nothing. I know - I know that you think that your life means so little I wouldn’t care if you were gone. That I could - Live, without you.” 

That’s… different. 

“And I know,” Loki continues, “That I told you to trust me, and I meant it.” 

“I do,” You say. There is no hesitation. “I trust you - Loki. Of course I trust you. It’s not - it wasn’t -“ 

“Stop talking,” He snaps. Gentles, when you jerk your head away, blink back a fresh wave of tears. “You need rest,” He says. “And - This is. This is going to hurt.” 

You nod. 

“Best get it over with, then.” 

“You should keep your eyes closed,” He says. 

“No! I want - I need to look.” You bring your eyes up to your arm, which he’s settled onto bed’s chewed, scratchy quilt without you realizing, but Loki tilts your head up with a barely-there graze of his fingers, achingly gentle to avoid aggravating your swollen jaw. He holds your gaze for a long time. Doesn’t look mad, anymore. 

“Are you sure?” He asks you. Like all of this could be over with, if you wanted. 

“How bad it could it be?” You ask back. 

The injury is horrendous. You’d thought - honest-to-God, you’d thought the pain was terrible, but you weren’t ready for what your arm has become. The line of the wound runs in a craggy jigsaw from just under your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Small wonder you can’t move it, can barely think through it at all. 

“Y/N?” Loki asks, “Are you -“ 

“Fine,” You say. Blink, and your body knows pain. Try not to let how scared you are show, when you look back up at Loki. The Pink Cobra’s dead. You shouldn’t be scared, anymore. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?” 

Loki sighs. Long and low and sad. 

“Will I have to - “ 

“Bite,” Loki says, and shoves something - the sleeve of his shirt, crusted in blood which you realize, sickeningly, is yours - into your mouth. “It’ll help.” 

It doesn’t, but he holds your hand through it, hushing you through the pain with furrowed eyebrows, thread and needle flying deftly through skin, air, skin again. His fingers move precisely, deliberate,  quick, and when, on one stitch, you audibly whimper, he pauses to lean down and press a soft, utterly unexpected kiss to your hairline. You are unable to fully express how much it means to you, so you do the next best thing and kiss him yourself, pressing him back once he’s finished the last of his stitches and breathing all the the words you can’t say into him. You press every fear and gratitude and lingering nerve into the warmth of his lips, wending your fingers through his dark hair despite the pangs of agony still thrumming through every inch of your body. Your face hurts, but the kiss is all you’ve ever needed and more, and Loki is so, so gentle with you, pulling away with creased eyebrows and a look of genuine concern. 

“I wanted to,” You tell him, mustering all of your strength. “It didn’t hurt.” 

“Stop,” He tells you, voice cracking, “Stop lying.” 

“I’m not,” You say. “I wanted to, Loki, I did.” 

“And you wanted to -“ 

“No.” You are vehement about it, for a broken-ribbed, broken-jawed, freshly-stitched person coming off the high of his teeth and his tongue. “Not that, I swear, never that.”

 “Why did you do it, then?” Loki asks. He has steepled his fingers under his chin, and his narrowed eyes pierce through you to the soul. You couldn’t lie to this man, you think, if your life depended on it. 

You know that you have to tell him, this time. Really tell him. You don’t. 

“”Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“You know why,” He says, and you do. You’d remembered it as the white pill turned to white powder in your gums, as the Pink Cobra’s knife had carved its way into your flesh. Thor had put a set limit on it, as condition of Loki’s release - Proof, he had said, We can trust you. Loki had thought to save it for later, that you wouldn’t need him right then. He had thought you’d talk them out, to safety. 

You’d failed him. 

“You didn’t,” He tells you, voice raw. He goes to grip your chin, to force you to listen to him, but with a glance and ill-concealed wince at your purpled jaw he thinks better of it. “You think that you failed me? You let yourself be - be beaten and stabbed - just so people you’ve never met in your life wouldn’t die, and you call that a failure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Bites back a snarl. Drops your arm. “I need you to listen to me,” Loki says, “Very, very carefully. You’re going to tell me why now, love. And then we’re going to fix it.” 

You raise an eyebrow. Worse than he does, you’re aware. 

“Sleep,” He amends, with a pointed look at the bed underneath you, “And then we’re going to fix it.” 

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, “And I feel like I just got run over by a truck.” 

Loki huffs, a puff of warm air that you feel, from how close he still is. A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. It sets off sparks inside you. 

“I thought -“ You say. Shake your head, and restart. “You would have let the Pink Cobra attack. You would have let him just walk away, and I couldn’t just - let that happen.” 

“Enlightening.” 

“No,” You tell him, “I mean it. I couldn’t - I’m not - I’m not worth more than anyone else. We’re the Avengers. It’s our job to save people, Loki.” 

He’s regarding you carefully, eyes still narrowed, all vestiges of softness gone from his face. When he opens his mouth, it’s to close it. Form thoughts. Discard them. Exhale. 

“My mother once told me,” He finally says, “That I would never know what it meant to be human until I found the person who made me want to bleed the world dry. Take all of its’ suffering, all of its’ cruelty, and leech it out of the very fabric of time, just to keep that person from anguish, from harm.” 

“I don’t -“ 

He holds a hand up. You still. 

“She never said they would infuriate me,” Loki says. “She never said they would make me laugh, or smile, or question my sanity on a regular basis. She never said that they’d try and get themselves killed, and that I’d have to watch, and that I would feel like my heart was being ripped from my body and torn to a bloody pulp; that I would make the sky rain blood and fire at the sight of it alone. But she was right about one thing - Many things, but also this. She told me that it wouldn’t matter. That I would - love you - anyway.” 

“You don’t,” You say, not daring to hope. It’s an automatic retort. 

“Foolish girl,” Loki chides, and you blink back fresh, stinging tears. How long have you wanted to hear Loki say that to you? How many sneaky looks have you stolen in the heat of your missions, just to see his smart mind and tricky magic at work? How many nights have you sat up together, sequestered from your insomnia in a bubble of hard-earned banter and peppermint tea, fighting the tight, coiling urge to push aside your steaming mugs and pull him into your needing? 

He could not - he can’t - feel the same. 

“Loki,” You say, stumbling over the words, “You can’t - This is - This is me we’re talking about.” 

“Is there anyone else here,” Loki asks you, “That I could be talking about?” He seems nonchalant, now, as if this - this cruel fucking joke, when you already feel you’re on fire - is merely a fact of his life. “We’re going to leave this excuse of a town, and get you - proper care. Fix it. Because I will not, on my honor, watch you suffer in pain. But first, you’re going to sleep.” 

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, and feel your resolve as it shatters. You cling to the statement like it’s the last remnant of the girl you were and the woman that you’ll never be, “And the shower doesn’t work. And I’m covered in blood.” 

But when you look at Loki, his eyes twinkle, mischievous. 

“Will you stay with me?,” You ask him, biting your lip. 

“You astound me,” He tells you, and rolls his eyes, and it feels - it feels normal. Good. A tender heat unfurls in your heart like orchid petals in the sun, numbing the persistent ache in your ribcage. “To even think that I would do anything else.” 

Later, you will ask him why. Why do you love me?, you will ask, and Loki will hum, low in his throat, curled around you just like this first night; your back pressed into his chest, your legs tangled up hopelessly, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns onto your spine in the dawn-light’s syrupy gold. Because, he will tell you, trailing a line of soft kisses up the scar on your arm - an ugly thing, but it functions, mostly, and only ever seems to hurt on the days when he isn’t there - I was given no choice. 

But if you’d had one?”, You will ask, and spin around, propping yourself on your elbow. 

You tempt me, He’ll tell you, baring his sharp teeth. Shouldn’t you know better than that? 

You will lie there, next to each other, not needing a single word. Because you will know. Because he will have told you, a thousand times, a thousand ways, exactly how he feels about you. 

Tonight, though, isn’t that night. It takes a moment to get settled in his hold, and the rain spits and drums against what glass remains in your window, slicking the carpet with dark, greasy splotches. It figures, you think, that even the rain in this city has the smell and the texture of oil. You feel like a bag of bones, stretched too thin. But safe, in his arms, in a way that you’ve never felt, before now. Loki is with you, you realize. Wrapped around you like a traveler’s cloak, the comforting weight of a slim, balanced blade at your side in a fight. He is cool, around your afraid. Warm, where his clever fingers whine and needle their way through your skin to your heart. 

“I hate you,” You tell him, “You know that?” 

Loki laughs, a deep, rumbling purr. 

“Go to sleep.”

#picture1000wordswc #pic 4 #loki/reader #female reader #crack #so much crack #just a lot of references to bad memes and cringe movies that turns into all the angst #because for some reason i’m like this #guess which character from another popular franchise i based my crack villain off #soundtrack to this was 800 percent mouth moods #in all seriousness though huge congrats to @startrekkingaroundasgard #you deserve all the love #unfortunately i showed my love by writing insane crack fic but HEY #loki is in it so hopefully that makes up for the c r i n g e

[thisbrokenmask]

Matching Pair

pairing: female reader x Kim Namjoon

genre: fluff, very light angst

word count: 2,266

warnings: brief mentions of struggling to conceive, hella fluff

summary: you return from a day of shopping with a surprise for your husband.

a/n: so, this fic is unbeta’d and was written on my phone, but I was too excited to write it after getting some very wonderful news today - I found out I’m going to become an auntie for the very first time next summer! I’m beyond excited, and it ended up giving me inspiration for how to finally use the ‘Fuzzy Boots’ prompt on my @btsholidaybingo​ card!

“Joonie?” you call out for your husband as you close the front door of your home, already feeling the heat of the house warming you from the growing winter chill outside. Gently putting the shopping bags containing your few new purchases down to the side, you take off your shoes and your coat and put them in the closet by the front door. You don’t hear an answering call from Namjoon, but you do find his house keys still in the little cubby in the closet when you hang yours back up, so you know he’s home.  

Heart fluttering and excitement rolling in your tummy, you grab the handles of your shopping bags and head upstairs, your bare feet sinking into the carpet of the stairs with quiet relief. Even though you decided against heels today, the several hours you spent searching for the perfect items has still left them aching and you once again pat yourself on the back for choosing a thick pile when you decorated the house.

You bite your bottom lip to try and hold back your grin as you head to your bedroom to deposit all but one of your shopping bags, although you can’t help the slight skip in your walk as you once again go over what’s about to happen. Leaving your discarded purchases at the foot of the bed to sort out later, you clutch the most important one tightly as you seek out your spouse. 

Surprisingly, he’s not in his home studio, the small soundproof room normally your first port of call on the rare days Namjoon doesn’t head into the BigHit buildings to work. No, instead you find him in the little snug-come-library at the end of the hall, a slight dip in his brow from how concentrated he is on the words in front of him.

The library was a room you both insisted on having when you found this house, as you both needed somewhere to store your vast collections of books you had amassed over your lives. The custom floor-to-ceiling shelving had been fitted perfectly for the room, with a few open spaces left for artwork to break up the visual of hundreds of book spines. 

While your respective hoards of literature had combined, there were still traces of your individual hobbies nestled among them. Several small houseplants contributed pockets of green and, as Namjoon pointed out, a sort of poetic contradiction to the many books you owned; the living among the dead, as it were. He tended to them daily, whereas your offerings required much less attention. 

In your many years of travelling before and after meeting Namjoon, you’d developed the habit of collecting one small trinket from each country or city you visited. Whether they represented particular landmarks, native animals or cultural figures, you always brought home something to remember each place by, and now many of those trinkets filled the spaces left behind by oddly-shaped books or accompanied a bonsai as it grew between the shelves. 

In the centre of the room, on top of the plush mauve rug you’d fallen in love with at first sight, sat two armchairs. They didn’t match each other, but matched you and your husband instead. You’d gotten the idea from UP!, knowing when you’d first seen Carl and Ellie’s individual chairs that you wanted to do that with your future partner. And the library became the perfect place for these perfectly mismatched chairs, another way to show how the two of you had come together in this room that housed so many of your joint passions. 

Your chair, currently empty, was the plushest wingback chair you’d ever seen; a beautiful, royal blue velvet chair that made you feel like you were in a house that could be found in a Jane Austen novel. Your husband’s chair, in which he was now sat, was burnt orange in colour, square and simple in shape, with arms curled over to remove any harsh lines. You’d hated it, initially, but the more you’d seen it on the shop floor and then saw your husband lean back into its cushions, the more you decided that it suited him, and that was what mattered. Despite its simplicity, it was a bit too big for you to sit in comfortably, although you would often climb into it and burrow under several blankets when he was away.  

You’d now grown accustomed to the barrage of colours and styles in your little library, a fondness for the apparent chaos that still shocked newcomers, making you giggle every time. 

As you so often find yourself doing, you take a second to admire Namjoon in his studious reading pose: one leg resting across the knee of the other, his right elbow propped up on the armchair and his hand cradling his chin, index finger extended across his lips in contemplation. His left hand cradles his book seemingly effortlessly, his simple gold wedding band glinting in the warm orange of the afternoon winter sun that pours in through the window across the room. It’s still the only golden piece of jewellery he wears, and it still makes your heart bloom every time you catch sight of it. 

In the split second you’ve taken in his appearance, he’s become aware of your presence. Only his eyes move at first, flicking up from the page to the door to see who’s walked in. When he sees you standing in the doorway, however, he immediately slips his bookmark into place and puts the volume down on the little table between the chairs. The ease and immediacy with which he gives you his whole attention never fails to make you feel a little giddy. 

“Hey,” Namjoon’s expression melts into his warmest smile, all traces of his previous concentration vanished at the sight of his wife. His eyes briefly drop to the bag in your hand before returning to you. “Have fun shopping?”

You nod as he extends his hand towards you, slipping your palm into his and letting him gently pull you close. He sits you in his lap, one arm curled around the back of your waist and the other gently resting across your thighs, his hand melding to match the curve of your flesh. The warmth of his palm is noticeable even through your jeans, rippling throughout your body like a breeze kissing the surface of a lake. 

“Is that for me?” he nods towards the bag by his feet, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple. 

“Nope,” you smile, then pause. “Well, I guess it kinda is. Wanna see?”

If Namjoon is confused, he doesn’t show it. He loves the way you think, loves how you can see something completely different from him when you both look at the same art pieces on your gallery trips, loves how you can find even the loosest connections between two ideas in a way he’d never thought of. He doesn’t always understand you at first, but he loves that about you, so he waits patiently for you to explain. 

You lift the bag into your lap, the hand across your thighs moving to secure it in place while you open it. You turn it away from him as you pull out the contents, but he’s not even trying to peep inside; his eyes are focused on you, on the little ways your expression changes when you get thoughtful, or excited, or anxious, and right now you’re a bit of all three. 

“Ta-dah!” you singsong proudly, presenting him with a pair of fuzzy, light brown slipper boots. You try not to giggle as his expression falters slightly, although he quickly covers up his obvious confusion with bemused intrigue, gaze jumping between you and the boots as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on. 

“These… are for me?” he can tell just by looking at them that the boots are way too small for him, they’re definitely your size, and he’s struggling to figure out how they could be ‘kinda’ for him. 

“No, these ones are mine, silly!” you laugh, gently bopping the tip of his nose with your finger. The relieved sigh that falls past his lips only keeps your laughter rolling and he loves the sound, cheeks dumpling as he grins up at you. 

“Of course,” he agrees easily, smirking down at the boots as you gently run your fingers through the fluffy material, then cocks his eyebrow. “So how am I involved in this?” he pauses, then tilts his head to one side. “You’re not going to wear them to bed, are you? I know I said your feet are cold but I actually don’t mind it so much anymore-”

“These ones are mine,” you say, cutting him off, holding up your boots for emphasis before twisting in his lap to put them on the floor. His hand on your waist reflexively holds you tighter to keep you from toppling. 

When you then look at him with a smile he can only describe as mischievous, he knows he’s fucked: he’s a sucker for your playfulness, willingly walking into even your silliest pranks just to see your face light up and hear the melody of your laughter when you celebrate your victory.

His mind whirs through every option he can think of that could somehow relate those fluffy little boots to himself. Maybe you’ve bought him new slippers too, but like your mismatched chairs they’ll be different styles, perfectly suiting each of you in a way that makes them work together. Maybe you’ve actually bought him matching ones and he can’t decide what will be worse: having to wear them to please you or refuse to wear them to please himself. He feels the smallest flicker of heat in his cheeks when he considers fluffy handcuffs, but he dismisses that though when he remembers how your gaze darkens whenever you get out the pairs you already own rather than brightens, like it has done right now. 

He’s at a loss, but you don’t make him wait much longer before you grant him an explanation. 

“They didn’t have matching daddy boots, unfortunately, but-” he doesn’t have time to register the term when you pull out the remaining items in the bag with a flourish. “They did have these matching baby boots, and I just couldn’t resist!”

He stares down at the little pair of fuzzy boots, the same light brown colour as yours. They’re barely bigger than your palm as they sit side by side and he doesn’t know how something so small can knock all of the air from his body. 

He can’t speak, can’t swallow, almost can’t breathe. He can only stare. 

You watch as Namjoon’s features drop and give him a few moments to process the sight in front of him. You’re sure your lip is about to bleed with how hard you’re biting into it, desperate to cry and cheer and celebrate with him but wanting to give him his processing time. 

When he doesn’t say anything after a longer time than you were expecting, you begin to worry he’s upset rather than shocked. When he finally speaks, though, his tone is so level you genuinely think he’s angry. 

“Y/n,” he says, gaze lifting to meet your eyes and locking onto them. You feel his body grow tense beneath you, the grip on your waist tightening and releasing as he battles with the emotions building in his chest. “Who are these for?” His throat bobs with a dry swallow and you feel your stomach drop a little bit, suddenly realising how this may have come across to him. 

You and Namjoon got married nearly two years ago now, and you’ve been trying for a baby for just over a year. During that time, Namjoon has found more than one or two bags of baby clothes tucked away in your side of the closet, onesies and booties in varying designs and colours despite the fact that none of your attempts had been successful. His heart had broken for you every time, knowing how desperate you were to become a mother, but, despite his own deep-seated desire to be a father, he’d insisted you return the items each time and forbade you from bringing home anymore baby items that weren’t gifts for expecting friends or relatives. It was painful for him, too, to keep seeing the negative pregnancy tests in the bathroom trash, but he knew that it would only hurt more if you kept the clothes with no baby to fill them. 

It had been months since you’d last even looked at the baby aisles in any stores, but today was the day things changed. 

“They’re for us,” you told him gently, the words barely above a whisper yet filling the space between you. You see the tears begin to well in his eyes at the same time his grip on you tightens one last time. He stares up at you, eyes wide and watery and full of hope, and you let the widest grin loose on your lips. 

Leaning forward to touch your forehead to his, both yours and Namjoon’s eyes fall closed. Shuddering breaths push at the air between you, your hand pressing to his chest to feel the way his heartbeat gallops under your palm. Your own tears start to glide over the apples of your cheeks as you finally let the weight of your news overwhelm you, knowing that you’re both finally going to see your dreams come to life. 

“They’re for our baby.”

If you would like to read any of my other works, please follow me and head on over to my masterlist ♡

#kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon fic #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts fluff #bts angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #rm fic #rm x reader #rm x y/n #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts holiday bingo #fuzzy boots #dad namjoon #bts as dads #dad bts #BTS fic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bangtan #bts

[antiadvil]

Sparks Fly

Summary: Dan and Phil’s vacation after Vidcon is going well, until a mistake from Phil sets the whole thing up in flames. Rating: PG-13 wc: ~2.2k A/N: written for the @phandomreversebang! Shoutout to my team ( @schnaphan as the talented artist and @catboydan as my incredibly tolerant beta who did not mind me getting the fic done a day before posting) for being incredibly helpful and supportive of the weird direction I decided to take a “sparks fly” prompt in. You can see @schnaphan’s art here.

Read on ao3 or beneath the cut.

Phil was proud of this one. An airbnb cabin, far away enough from the rest of the world that they would get some space to themselves for once, but close enough to civilization that it had broadband internet. The perfect place to wind down together after Vidcon. He stretched his feet out onto the glossy wooden coffee table and turned another page, trying to focus on his book.

“Ah!” Dan jumped back a bit as he entered the living room. “Did we really need to keep the cutout?”

“It’s funny,” Phil insisted. He wasn’t sure what exactly had inspired him to stuff the cardboard cutout of Dan into their suitcases when the man from the convention asked if they wanted to keep it, but it annoyed Dan to see a replica of himself stand in the cabin’s living room, so stand it did.

“It keeps scaring the shit out of me.” Dan glared at it, somewhat resentfully.

“Even better.” Phil attempted a wink.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Just wanted to say I’m tired. Going to bed.”

Phil looked up from his book, trying to suppress his disappointment. “So early?”

“Tired.” Dan leaned over the back of the sofa to try to reach Phil’s face, reaching out with his hands to pull him closer when Phil jokingly pulled away.

“Good night,” Dan said, kissing Phil on the forehead, and then on both cheeks when he pouted. “Do your best to survive without me. You’ll have your book to keep you company. Very intellectual.”

Phil rolled his eyes, turning back to his (somewhat trashy) horror novel. “Good night. Sleep well.” It was good that Dan was going to bed early, probably, he hadn’t been sleeping well recently. Hopefully he’d be able to catch up on some sleep tonight and feel better.

The cottage was quieter than Phil expected with Dan in bed in the other room. It was a bit eerie, so far away from the rest of the world, alone in the woods, and Phil found scenes from the axe murderer horror novel in his hand flitting through his head a bit more vividly than he would have liked.

He needed something to calm him down, ground him, and he remembered from the advice he had absorbed through Dan’s therapist. A scented candle, maybe? It would be cozy and warm, and you never saw scented candles in books about axe murderers. There were scented candles already provided on the coffee table, he’d just have to find the matches.

There were probably some in the kitchen. He stood up and moved to the kitchen, searching the cabinet until he found the matches. He struck one, absentmindedly, before remembering the candle was in the other room. The flame was already flickering down—he didn’t have long to get there before it burnt out.

His resolve strengthening him, he summoned extra reserves of strength from deep within him to start a sprint back towards the living room. He was just rounding the corner when he noticed a human figure looming ahead of him. “Ah!” He jumped slightly before realizing it was just the cutout. God, Dan was right. It was terrifying. He looked for the candle, then paused. The match. Where was the match?

A flickering, growing glow in the corner of his eye answered his question. “Oh fuck,” Phil whispered. “Oh fuck, DAN, oh fuck-” he ran towards their room. “DAN,” he shouted again, swinging the door open.

Dan was sitting up in bed, massaging his head. “What the fuck did you do, Phil?”

“Fire,” Phil managed, “fire!”

He was starting to smell the smoke. Dan must’ve too, because his eyes widened. “Phil, you idiot, we can’t get out this way.”

Dan was sort of right, he supposed, the living room was between their bedroom and both the front and back doors, and a large chunk of it was on fire right now.

“You idiot, you should’ve gotten out.” Dan sounded scared now.

Phil wished he could say he had gone back out of some deep seated need to save Dan, but if he was being honest, it was just instinct at this point to run for Dan every time he made a mess. “It’s fine,” he said, looking around for an exit. The window. Phil silently thanked his past self for booking an Airbnb with only one story.

Dan’s eyes followed Phil’s gaze, and he must’ve had the same thought, because he grabbed Phil’s arm, dragging him over to the window and wrenching it open. “The screen-” Phil said, before Dan let go of his hand to push at it until the screen came loose, falling onto the ground on the other side of the window.

“Come on,” Dan said, swinging a leg over the side. He hopped awkwardly down, dragging his other leg after him. “Come on.”

Phil’s legs seemed to seize up, but with enough of Dan’s tugging he made it over the windowsill, his foot catching and sending him tumbling into the sweetly scented, but somewhat thorny, flowerbed. “Ow,” he muttered, looking at the scratches running their way down his long, pale arms. He found himself staring at them, transfixed, as a single drop of blood welled up and trickled down his arm.

Dan pulled at his arm again. “Phil, move-”

Phil stumbled to his feet and out of the flowerbed, following Dan until they were about 20 feet away from the house, just where the grass turned into woods. Oh god, Phil could just see the headlines about how two British idiots were the cause of the latest California wildfire—

“Call 911,” Dan said, sounding just a little less frantic now that they were out of the house.

Phil patted his pockets, looking for his phone. He found a phone-shaped lump in the left one, and pulled it out, his hands shaking as he tried to pull up the phone icon and type in the numbers. It took him a couple of tries, but he finally got the number in right.

A woman’s cool voice sounded from Phil’s phone speakers. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Right! Emergency. I’m here with my—um—friend,” Phil said awkwardly. “We’re on vacation, from the UK, well, vacation after a convention—you don’t care about visas, do you?” he said, suddenly remembering Dan’s Bahamas fiasco from a few years ago.

Dan glared at him. “The fire,” he prodded.

“Right!” Phil said. “My house is on fire.”

“Do you have an address?” the woman on the other end asked in the calmest voice Phil had ever heard.

“Address,” Phil motioned to Dan with a gesture he hoped clearly communicated, “get me the address for this airbnb,” but Dan didn’t seem to understand. He just looked confused.

“What?”

“What’s the address of this place?”

“Oh!” Dan said, digging out his phone (Phil was suddenly grateful that neither of them could be separated from their phones for long enough to lose them in an emergency). He stared at his screen anxiously, as if he was waiting for something to load.

When it finally did, he didn’t even read it out loud, just shoved the email in front of Phil’s face so he could read it to the dispatcher.

“Alright, sir, help is on the way,” the woman on the phone said. “Are you and your friend a safe distance from the house?”

Phil looked around. “Um, I think so.”

“Perfect. And there’s no one else in the building? Any pets?”

“No. Just us.”

“We’ll be sending an ambulance around just to check that everyone is alright, just so you know.”

Phil hoped he wouldn’t be charged for that. He missed the NHS. “Okay.”

“I’m just going to need you to sit tight until then, okay? Now, can you answer a few questions about the fire?”

She asked a few vague questions about how the fire started, and Phil was grateful that he didn’t have to actually explain what happened, just say it was an accident. Her questions seemed more designed to keep him on the line and calm him down until the fire truck came than to get any actual answers about the fire from him. Phil tried not to look too hard at the growing flames, glowing in the window.

After a few minutes, he could hear sirens in the distance, and a fire truck and ambulance pulled up in his driveway. A few figures in bulky suits hopped out of the truck, immediately getting to work unrolling a hose and aiming it towards the windows of the living room, where Phil could see flames flickering.

“Right,” a very tall man in firefighter gear strode over to them. “I just have a few questions about how the fire started. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help?”

“You should probably talk to Phil about that, I have to make a few calls,” Dan said, ducking away and patting Phil’s hand before leaving him alone to face his interrogation.

“Yeah,” Phil gulped. “I was there.” He forced himself to look up to make eye contact with the firefighter.

“Right,” the man said, writing something in a notepad. “You saw it start?”

“Yes,” Phil said. “I, uh, was carrying a match.”

The man raised an eyebrow and wrote something down again. “You were carrying a match,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Phil said, finally breaking eye contact. “I was carrying a lit match and I dropped it.”

“Hmmm.” Some more writing. “Why’d you drop it?”

“Well, um, me and my-” Phil hesitated for just a second. “Me and my friend kept this cardboard cutout from this convention we went to, and when I walked back into the living room it startled me and I dropped it.” He didn’t dare look up and risk making eye contact again, but even the other man’s pen scribbling seemed judgemental.

“Right. So then something caught on fire from that?”

“I think it was the carpet. I’m not sure.”

“Well,” the man said, clearing his throat. “You and your friend are lucky you’re safe. I hope you’ve learned to be more careful with matches next time.”

“I have. Sir.” Phil cringed inwardly, hoping it didn’t show on his face. Sir? Was he a child being scolded at school?

The firefighter seemed to accept Phil’s assurance, though, nodding once before turning away and moving back to the truck, just as Dan emerged from the ambulance and jogged over.

“Your turn.” Dan nodded towards the ambulance.

Phil sighed. At least the paramedics probably wouldn’t ask him any questions about how he had managed to start a house fire.

When Phil’s exam was done and he got out of the ambulance, Dan was waiting for him. “I found us a hotel,” he said.

“I love you,” Phil said.

“As you should.”

“What about our stuff?” Phil asked, anxious.

“They let me go in to get our suitcases. Nothing else, though I’m not sure I’d be able to find anything else if I was allowed to try. The living room looked pretty bad.”

They hadn’t gotten a chance to unpack much yet. Just having their suitcases should be fine, though Phil missed his horror novel already. But still, Phil groaned. “Are we going to be in trouble with the Airbnb host?”

“Nope,” Dan said. “I called already, they have insurance for idiots like us.” He smiled as he said it. Phil couldn’t help but appreciate that he had lumped the two of them together, as if this whole mess hadn’t been entirely Phil’s fault. “We’re not getting our money back, though.”

Phil sighed. “Understandable.” It was probably the best outcome he could ask for, especially with he and Dan safe… and how expensive US medical bills could get. “How far is the hotel?”

“About half an hour.” Phil opened his mouth, but Dan cut him off. “I’ll drive. You’ve caused enough damage for today.”

He was smiling, just teasing, but Phil couldn’t help the flush of shame that came over him anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Dan threw an arm around Phil’s back and pulled him closer. “I know,” he whispered. “Now come on. Let’s get out of here and get some rest.”

The hotel room wasn’t as nice as their cabin had been. It was on the smaller side, and the carpet was scratchy and gray. The mattress on the equally gray bed was a bit lumpy, but Phil couldn’t bring himself to care as he dragged himself into it.

Dan collapsed next to him. “How is it that I’m the one functional in an emergency?” he asked. “I’m the one crippled by existential despair all the time.”

“I don’t know,” Phil confessed, wringing his hands. “I just… I panicked.”

“I know,” Dan sighed, patting Phil’s face fondly.

“Nothing like a near death experience to solidify a relationship, though, right?” Phil joked weakly.

Dan patted his face again, a bit more clumsily. “Nothing like a near death experience to make me tired.”

He lapsed into silence then, and Phil listened to him fall asleep, counting every breath, matching them with his own until his eyes drifted closed and he fell into a dark, dreamless sleep where, finally, he could no longer smell the wood smoke.

#phan #phanfic #my writing #phanfiction

[peeterparkr]

The Holiday.|Tom Holland

chapter one: The Prince and the Pauper. (Pauper.)

↳ read Sophia’s version here and a little bit of Tom. (Tim fic)

So, the christmas series is finally here! This is a 2 fics in one, meaning I’ll write Tom’s fic and @jambrosemc will write a Tim Chalamet fic, if you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s based on the movie The Holiday, where two women after being heartbroken switch their homes and lives for a bit. Both fics are reader insert, however Emma’s character will be named Sophia in this fic and my character will be named Iris in her fic. Remember the fics are connected and that Tom’s introduction is held in @jambrosemc​ ‘s fic. And so Tim’s introduction is here. Hope it’s not complicated and we hope you love it. 

STORY SUMMARY:  Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other's countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny. 

chapter summary: The heartbreak of an unrequited lover. pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad, mentions of sex, alcohol, mentions of cheating.  word count: 7.2k

story masterlist. 

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There is something unequivocally  known about love, everything that’s been said about it, is almost true. We’ve been bombarded with love songs, romantic comedies, romance novels, poetry, it’s everywhere. There can never be enough love songs, because no matter how incredible it never seems to be the same, you’ll never see two pieces that are identical, some of them are similar, of course, but they all speak from a very deep side of Love.  Love isn’t one thing that is written down, not an exact science. There’s no right formula to whatever love is. But every single thing written about love might be true, at least to someone. Love is something so personal and yet we can all relate to it, but then again there’s never two loves that will feel the same. There can be two love stories starting at the same time but you’ll never feel like it’s the same. But everytime someone dares to write or speak or sing about love, it’s most likely to be true. Or so you’ve learned throughout the years.

In Romeo and Juliet,  Romeo asked himself ‘Did my heart love till now?’, and there's common sense to it, we’ve all felt that…We’ve all wondered if you’ve known love before you met the one.  You believed you had, you thought you had it all figured out. How much can one learn about love? We’ve all felt it. At some point, or another. You had. It’s incredibly easy to understand that though love is unique in its own sense, love is universal.

You did believe that everything concerning love was true. Shakespeare also said, "Journeys end when lovers meet."

Was it true? You loved to rely on that thought, that we were meant to travel until we found the one. That two people are destined to meet in the middle and start a new one together.

You loved to think about love more than anyone did, you were hopeless. It’s incredibly complex, and subtle and it’s got the power to change someone, and a story, completely. Love is not easy.

Love is also blind, you, perfectly,  knew about that. It was smart to know that you’d been blinded yourself.

Love fades. Love is lost. Love is complicated. Love can be something eternal, or love can only last for a night.

Then, there was the one love you knew, the one you’d been living for a while. Unrequited love. No one really talks about that one. All love stories rely on the fact that the two lovers will end up together. But the unrequited love? No, no one dares to write about it. Maybe because they’re too sad in their sorrow to even think of that. You always wondered what would be of that story if someone ever dared to write it. And what’s the destiny awaiting for them?

Always the bad luck, the ones with the blinded reason, but always foreign to that one feeling of joy. Always wounded, and always left when the sun is out. The handicapped of hearts.

You were one, you were one of them, the one who is in love with that one guy who never dares to love back.

It gets even worse around the Holidays, everyone speaks of it. It’s everywhere. You go to the mall and see people buying gifts for their significant others, you turn the TV on and there’s the usual bad romantic films that you ended up watching, always the same, the girl goes from the big city back to her old town and her high school sweetheart is in love with her still, all while there’s an angel or Santa Claus, or whatever they come up this time, and she finds herself falling back in love with her old town, and she’s a painter or whatever and she lets go her dream of the big city to go back to her pathetic love interest.

Yet you always watched them, curled up in front of your TV with the candy that you were supposed to give out on Halloween but instead kept them for Christmas.

That was you, a hopeless romantic who was desperate for love.

You were there, wrapping a delicate christmas present that probably was not wanted but that you were too blinded and too stupid to see that. Also trying to wrap your own mind whether you’d give this out or not.

You were pathetic, and there he was in all his splendor. Chad.

Of course, maybe that’s what you get for being in love with a man named Chad, but he didn’t live up to his name. He was handsome, and incredibly perfect, and you were always so mesmerized by him. You had been in love with him for three years now, three miserable years. And honestly it’s been the worst years of your life, worst birthday, christmases, Halloween, New Years Eve’s that needed wine and Xanax. The biggest curse. All because you’re in love with a man who’s never and will never ever love you back.

He probably wasn’t conventionally good looking, not for most girls around anyway, but he had a confidence and a sly sexuality that could get you to your knees in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, dear, please tell me you’re not deeply lost looking at Chad?” Angela, your coworker and probably closest thing to a friend asked.

“What?” You were snapped out of your trance. “No, no!” Though you had been.

The holidays party at the newspaper you worked at. You wrote the only good news, you’d say, the column of UNIONS, when you described marriages and gave the couples a little bit of spotlight to their recent and new found joy. You wanted to write way more than that, honestly, but you didn’t mind. Though you knew you were probably wasted potential. Potential, everyone said you had it.

“I thought that was over,” Angela pointed out.

“It is! It is—“You tried to say. “It—is, mostly.”

Angela rolled her eyes, “thought so,” she snapped. “What even was the deal with you two? You used to fuck him right?”

“I—“you coughed. “Yeah, I used to sleep with him, but more importantly I was in love with him.”

Still were, for that matter.

“Oh, great, and then—you discovered he was fucking that other girl in accounting, Denise.”

“Yes, I did find out and hence why I stopped… sleeping with him,” you whispered, embarrassed. “And I don’t want to talk about this at the party.”

“But like I always see you two together, so he cheats on you and you keep being friends with him?” Angela pushed to your own disarray. “Plus, I’m like 300% sure you’re the one who writes the articles for him, he hasn’t one ounce of talent and you do.”

You did write his stuff. But couldn’t get anywhere yourself.

“I well-”

“And he cheated, y/n.”

“Yes but he didn’t cheat, you see in his mind we weren’t in a relationship and we were in mine… but like—“

“So if you’re not in a relationship that means you have to expect he’s going to fuck other women?” She pointed out.

“I—“ you didn’t know what to say. “No, no, I mean—but I was so in love with him, but—“Somehow this had opened a gate that you hadn’t opened in a while. “Wait—No, no I can’t cry,” you said to yourself feeling like there was going to be a cascade pooling your eyes. “Does it look like I’m crying?”

“Y/n, maybe—Look,” she wiped off a tear, I—“She coughed. “Did he ever say he loved you?”

“I—yes, three times.” You had counted them. “When I reminded him of that he said it must've been a  question and it most certainly was not.”

“You see y/n, when you catch a man fucking another woman you’re not supposed to remain friends with him, you’re supposed to make a scene, threaten to chop off his dick, throw things at him, like I did with your brother.”

You rolled your eyes, “Tim didn’t cheat on you,” you said. “You slept with him once, didn’t talk to each other for like a month and he found someone else and you made a scene.”

You knew your brother was many things but he wasn’t a cheater, he was not a bad person. Tim was someone with enough confidence to know what he wanted and sure, he did find a one night love with strangers every now and then, but he wasn’t a bad person. He probably was too confused. He’s the typical man who is afraid of commitment and has no follow through.

He never fell in love, that wasn’t his thing. The opposite of you, who fell in love deeply. Tim never—wanted any commitment. He could have a one night stand and never follow through.

“But—you see that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Angela continued.

“But I’m not doing anything, we just—text,” you admitted with pity, “and sometimes we FaceTime but like that’s it, and we’ve gone out for lunch and look, he says we’d be idiots to give up our friendship but—“You couldn’t continue.

“Fucking men, they’re trash, all of them, he’s got you right where he wants you, who wouldn't want a fantastic girl like you in love with him ... hanging on his every word …?” She asked. “Chad knows anytime he wants to crawl back …”

“And he is… Look, today he—he said we should go out and he gave me a Christmas present.”

“Which was?”

“A set of lingerie but—“

“Oh my god y/n,” she snapped. “I can’t believe how pathetic you are.”

“Is it pathetic really? To think the world is near perfection every time I’m with him?”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Very. It’s...Chad.”

“I… is it wrong, really? I just want to be loved.”

“And you chose Chad?”

Before you could say anything, your boss called out. “Everybody gather around. I have an important announcement to make,” your boss said. “First of all you, I want to wish each and every one of you a Merry  Christmas. It’s been a year, hasn’t it? I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished,”he kept rambling on their achievements or whatsoever they had done throughout the year, you couldn’t care less. “Given that, we may be able to get by with a smaller announcement—Which involves y/n—y/n? Are you there?”

Angela raised your hand.

“Well y/n your column on weddings has been lovely,” he said.

Was it though?

“And—Well, a wedding was privately announced earlier, and I don’t think any other paper in town knows about it and I want you to be the first to report on this particular union,   as it is between two of our most esteemed colleagues got hitched! Bring a loud cheer for Chad Bloom and Denise Higgins!”

Boom.

It all felt...no.

You tried desperately not to cry. Everyone could see you there. Were you dreaming? This was a nightmare.

You didn’t know how you got the guts to get out of that office without crying. You’ve never felt braver before, but you had to give the politest of smiles to Chad and everyone around to then proceed to get your coat and head home. How pathetic did you look in your car crying to a guy who definitely was going to do that.

This felt like a nightmare. The love of your life was engaged.  And you couldn’t do anything about it. Because you didn’t believe in multiple loves, only one, love wouldn’t come again and knock on your door. This was it, you were destined to be lonely and stay lonely. This was your very worst nightmare, all that time wasted upon and there was nothing you could do about it.

It hurt, your heart was wrenched. You’d open the Halloween candy sooner, and you’d bought ice cream, three pints of ice cream.

Just a week before he had given you the set of lingerie and said he was eager to see you wearing it. Honestly, you had lied to Angela. You had seen him a couple of times, and sooner or later you’d end up in between the sheets because you had absolutely no self control when it came to him. He knew how to press your buttons and where to touch you and he’d try to charm you each time and you’d end up falling for it. He’d say that he’d changed and that he always believed in you.

Honestly, you always fell for it because you thought you were both destined to be in love.

But now it was all gone, you’d lost him. He was going to marry someone else.

This probably was the lowest point in your life, it really was. Because it was so stupid to fall in love with someone who was just going to step on you, and you needed someone. Time was passing by, it was getting darker and night was only drowning you more. You needed someone to talk to, who’d listen. But someone who wouldn’t judge you just as bad or who couldn’t judge you as bad.

You were getting tired of crying but you couldn’t help it. You felt insignificant and as small as humanly possible. So very crushed.

You called your brother, because though he probably would judge you, and he’d probably not care, he was kind of forced to listen because you were relatives and you did help him from time to time. Lately more than you wanted to.

“Y/N—?” Tim answered, and you could hear there was music playing behind him. Of course he’d be awake in the middle of the night. He probably was out clubbing.

“Tim—I need—I’m not okay,” you admitted.

“Y/N I can’t really—“he laughed in between. “Hear you.”

“Chad is engaged!” You said louder.

He laughed. “Chad, what a stupid name.”

“Tim I’m serious!” She stated.

“How serious can this be his name is Chad!” Tim giggled. He was clearly drunk.

“Tim! I—He’s engaged I—I can’t believe it just a week ago he said he—“

“We’ve both known Chad is an asshole y/n, his name is Chad for fuck’s sake,” Tim pushed. “We both—I thought you were over him.”

“I… well.”

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n.”

“I’m never gonna love again,” you stated.

He scoffed. “Love doesn’t exist, y/n,” he stated. “Not for someone named Chad.”

“Stop.”

“He—“Tim sighed. “Look, we both knew he was an idiot, and we both knew he was going to break your heart and—He already had! May I remind you of that? He cheated on you!” He stated. “He is an asshole who doesn’t deserve any of your tears and I’m a hundred percent sure you are crying.”

You were, for that matter. Love for you was also always shedding tears.Sad tears. Love hurts. “I love him.”

“And I love this vodka on my hand,” he stated. “That—means nothing, okay?”

“You’ve never been in love,” she snapped. “You don’t know how it feels to have your love taken away—“

“Don’t go there, y/n.”

“I—I just—I can’t—“

“Y/N you need a break,” Tim said without really caring. “I’ll call you back later alright? I’m busy.”

A break.

Yes, that’s exactly what you needed. A break from your stupid and pathetic life, a break from your little fantasy. A break from Chad. Honestly, you were tired of it. Always having the worst of luck. You needed a break from men, though you barely had… Being completely honest, it only takes one man to lose faith in humanity. They hold that power.

You knew what love was and well, you’d never have it. You were destined to be the side character, the best friend and the one plot device. Not relevant.

Because honestly how stupid were you.

But was it really so bad to feel that way? To long for love, for someone who would run to you, and whom you could fall so deeply with. Guess now you had to build up walls. Because now you couldn’t get nobody else to hurt you again, nobody was worth this pain. Nobody should ever feel this way. You never wanted to let anyone hurt you again.

Honestly, you so needed a break.  But where and how?

You couldn’t stay in your place, it held too many memories, lots of them of you being stupid with Chad because you were such an idiot for letting him in your house and corrupt your place. You needed a break because everything would remind you of him, your car, his car, his house, this town, everything. Also your place was too sad.

You could go away. You had to, because you couldn’t let yourself drown in more sorrow. You were so unbelievably tired of it.

You had to go. Away from him, away from this place and your stupid house. Hell, if you could, you’d go to another country.

You rang Timmy again.

“What- y/n?”

“Where should I go?”

“What?”

“Yes on vacation,” you added.

“How do I-I don’t know, fuck it eh, oh wherever they speak English, bye.” He hung up on you again.

Where did they speak English?

England, of course.

Hell, maybe that’s why Chad didn’t love you, you were stupid, probably. England. London. You’d always wanted to go there. Anywhere really, but you never went anywhere because you were still waiting on Chad. Jesus, how much time did you spend wasting on that man?

England.

You opened up your laptop, ready for it. You needed to get away and not waste the holidays watching old and bad Hallmark movies eating ice cream by yourself. Or maybe yes, just far away from your own house.

Airbnb.

You went straight to London, it always seemed like a dream, besides it could work. And you scrolled through houses, big ones, small ones.

Then you found one. ‘Cozy, lovely place above a bookshop’. It did call your mind, it gave the idea of a perfect fantasy, it seemed nice enough.

And far, very far. And so different from whatever her fantasy with Chad had been, what was his thing? Island in the Caribbean.

You kept reading.

“In the other direction, the Bayswater Road will take you to Notting Hill (location of the Julia Roberts/ Hugh Grant film of the same name) and its fantastic local restaurants and bars, boutique shops, and the famous Portobello Road Market.”

That caught your mind. It seemed… perfect but to live with that fantasy of yours to live in a stupid romcom. Could it be?

No, no. You had to go in with the idea that no matter how romantic, you had bad luck and not even such a romantic place would make you have someone to love. You were really supposed to be always lonely. But the idea… of leaving did thrill you.

You didn’t think much of it, but the next morning, you still had that thought roaming in your mind, and eventually… you tried to reach out. It had closed, however. But you had saved the ad.

Sophia.

That was her name.

Hey! I’m interested in your house! That seemed too weird. Besides she had closed it.

You decided to reach out anyway.

“Hey, I was interested in your house! I don’t know if someone else rented it but I thought it was worth the shot. Is it still available? I’m sorry if it’s not. I just really liked your place! It’s okay if it’s not! Sorry! Thank you!” You sent it in. Wondering if you’d apologized just enough times.

You knew she’d probably not respond.

“Oh, sorry! I was renting it because I was planning to go on holiday with my boyfriend but plans changed. We broke up recently so I won’t be going anymore,” she answered.  That had been quick. Lucky she was online but the place was no longer available.

This was your bad luck only. Of course she wasn’t going to rent it. The dream seemed too far away. But… she had just broken up, she probably was feeling awful.

“Oh, I’m sorry!  why did you break up with him?” You asked.

Then read again what you’d just asked. What was wrong with you? This was a stranger. They didn’t need to give any explanation.

“I’m sorry you don’t have to answer that. I don’t know why I asked.” You added.

She was typing. “No, don’t worry! I guess it’s pretty complicated but long story short, he cheated on me.”

Been there, you thought to yourself. But probably at least most likely she was dating him and they were in a relationship not like you with your stupid “whatsoevership” with Chad.

“Men are trash,” you texted her.

“To say the least,” she answered.

You bit your lip. You knew you had to open up to. Well you didn’t have to, but you… felt the need to.

“I’m really sorry, I know how it feels. I was actually looking at your place to escape from a man myself. The love of my life, Chad, just got engaged.”

As soon as you sent it you saw how stupid you looked. You were absolutely pathetic.

“Chad?” Sophia asked.

You chuckled. You could see the smirk from the other side.

“I know. It’s my fault for falling in love with a Chad. Lives up to his stupid name.” Was your response.

It honestly was. But thought it seemed fun to poke on his name, it really didn’t occur to you that it was because of his name that he was an asshole, don’t blame it on a name.

“Well, I’m sorry that “Chad” had to be the love of your life. It sounds like we both need to get away.” Sophia sent.

Yes, you too were sorry.

“Definitely, but I’m gonna keep looking. I need to be at least 500 miles away from him.”

You really were going to keep looking, maybe not as perfect as the place Sophia had but at least go away.

“Maybe we could work something out?” Sophia asked.

Huh.

You grinned before chuckling. “Let’s switch lives like in The Parent Trap, although we’re not twins we’d be switching breakup lives.”

That would be a fun idea, impossible of course but you secretly hoped it could be done.

“Sounds interesting! Where are you from?” She asked.

Was she really up for it or was she just like you? Bored and alone enough to be talking to a stranger you’d met over Airbnb. Some people do tinder, but guessed you did Airbnb to make friends with other women who’d fallen under the sorrow that is falling in love with men.

“Astoria, Oregon. Pretty boring compared to London I guess.” Was your answer. Of course if she was remotely interested on switching before, all hopes would flush now.

“Not at all! All I care is that it’s far from here.” Sophia answered.

Was… it for real?

“Me too.”

You answered in hopes, but not really she’d back away.

“So, should we switch?” She asked.

You stared at the screen, not believing it. You had to make sure. “You’re serious? My place is nothing like yours.”

“Surely it’s not too horrible.”

It wasn’t, honestly. It was pretty. But not exciting, it was only normal. It was clean, it was full of books.

“I have a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. That's it. And I’m not near a romantic location like yours. I do have a dog, though.”

You didn’t know why you were sabotaging yourself. Matter of habits, maybe.

She didn’t.. Back away. “That’s perfect, I want far away from romance.”

So weird, you wanted to go near something romantic to be reminded love exists, or whatever. You didn’t understand why. Honestly, it probably was only a way to cope with this.

“Well, this is your chance.”

Honestly, this place was everything but romantic.

“Can I ask you one thing?” She asked.

She was going to back away. “Sure.”

“Are there any men in your town?” She asked.

Well, there goes your chance. You had to be honest about it. “Honestly? Zero.”

You waited for the ‘not interested' answer, instead she gave you: “When can I come?”

You scoffed with delight, not believing it. “Tomorrow too soon?” You asked, half-joking only. Honestly, you had to get away now.

“Tomorrow’s perfect actually.”

You couldn’t believe it. “wait wait wait but like are you for real?”

“Absolutely, or would it be too crazy?”

It ws for that matter, but when you’re brokenhearted you have no common sense. You didn’t have one of your own, that is. But this was exciting and this seemed like an adventure. A great idea for the one book you’d promised yourself you’d end up writing one day, instead of writing every other article for Chad.

You thought about it, you really wanted to go through with it. “It is but I’m down for it, but like, okay do you want pics of my home or something so you don’t think I’m a creepy old man who might kidnap you?”

And that would bring less of suspicion, god, why were you like this?

“Umm, yes actually :) that would be great.”

Yeah, she’d say that.

“Okay, wait, want my phone number so we’re not talking over air bnb?”

“Yes, I feel like that might be better.”

What was going on? Why were you exchanging numbers with a girl who you had never met and who lived in a completely different country. Besides, it was even crazier to think you btoh were thinking about switching places. You were crazy, completely off reason. Yet you didn’t know how or why you ended up both texting more, and talking. Showing each other’s places and ranting about men.

You couldn’t blame her for not believing in love, of course she wouldn’t. The ne guy she gives her heart to cheated on her. You wouldn’t blame her, at all. Besides, it was just…

You both had a very different version of it, but it was… Different. Yes, different, you guessed there was no other way to put it into it.

The texting didn’t cease, it continued more than you ever thought it would. Because sometimes it’s easier to rant to a stranger about life and love’s misfortunes. It seemed incredibly stupid how you both were talking about men who decided to ruin your lives. How in this world had you ended up venting to a stranger?

Danny blamed it on her. Danny seemed like the typical male who wanted to have a girlfriend and well, there was Sophia. It seemed sad, seemed like they both settled for it. Not even Sophia seemed to talk about him with love. She was just so… Not into it. Just talking about someone who she used to share time with.

She had given up on it. You couldn’t understand that. If the one who wasn’t the one could make her happy at some point, how happy would she be with the one?

However, you both seemed very alike, and both of you probably were in the same situation. Well, of course, the cheating part was different. But you’d gone through it as well. But Sophia explained that Danny, her ex, hadn’t even felt sorry for cheating.

You knew that story like the palm of your hand. Chad well… He blamed it on you, too. And he had said it, he didn’t cheat.

And though the stories were so different, the feeling was the same, of wanting to take a break from your pain, from a heartache and being so damn unreasonable to think of this. Honestly, though the idea of London seemed romantic, you knew you’d end up curled up crying on the other side of the world.

Sophia seemed to be very well put together, she had her bookshop, which added to her life. And sure, she seemed like a workaholic but she seemed to be kind. Someone who had the guts to follow her dreams and someone who barely had time to think about love.

You wished you were a bit more like her. She seemed like a main character. Even her name was a main character one.

The texting, not sure how or when, turned into a facetime call, and there you were, facetiming with a stranger about the lack of love you’d been involved with.  You pitied her, though. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could completely understand what she was going through. She seemed tough enough. But for her, love had rules. It had to be a certain way, and life had to have a certain balance and everything had to be merely perfect. But love for her was simple, the only rule was not to cheat.

Danny, her ex, had broken that rule. Which honestly, from what you’d gathered she was someone who actually tried. But… No, Sophia had seen him fade out. It always scared you to see that, to see how someone falls out of love. Sophia had seen it. But maybe Sophia’s belief, or lack of, of love was just… Surreal. But you understood it, not completely. But you did.

How could she believe in love when she’d never had it? Truly had it.

And she spoke of love as if it was a disease. Maybe it was, a disease. But was love really the disease or the aftermath the true one?

She didn’t believe in love. And not in a way that everyone has gone through, not in the way when you’re so brokenhearted that you don’t believe in it for a while. No, she didn’t want to give it a chance. For her, life was supposed to be about her success and her job, and the thrill of owning a bookshop.

Maybe she was the one who was right, after all you'd proved that love only could hurt. And how could you, after all of this, believe in it?

“So how long were you with him?” You asked her, as you were pacing around your kitchen, honestly you didn’t care if a complete stranger was seeing you in your ‘Chad reaction’, the bottle of wine, the chips, the cookies, your pj’s. Your pug dog, Tommy following you around.

Yet she was there, so elegantly, with her glass of wine. How was she handling it so well?

She gave it a thought. “About four years. What about you? How long have you loved Chad?” She smirked at the thought.

Four years. It seemed… enough. You rolled your eyes at the mention of his name. “Oh god it does sound super stupid,” you groaned. “But… Three stupid and miserable years, it’s a low point,” you said before finally opening up the wine and pouring a glass.

“No, it’s not stupid,” she answered. But it was, his name was Chad. “But, I can imagine how it would be a low point.”

Very, very low point. “But like you told me—He blamed it on you?” You couldn’t put your mind to it, at least Chad had accepted he’d slept with Denise. Of course, he didn’t say he cheated but he hadn’t… blamed it on you.

“He did,” she admitted. “He said I worked too much, and that I didn’t give him enough attention.”

You clenched your jaw, incredulous of how stupid he was. If you met the guy you’d probably slap him. “Fuck him, honestly, you’re successful bet he was intimidated by your success.” Because that’s how men work.

Sophia sighed. “Hmm, I doubt it. He just seemed… “ She paused. “bored of me.” You could see she was hurt. “I mean, he was right about one thing. I do spend most of my time at work, but that doesn’t give him any right to do that.”

“No. it doesn’t,” you agreed as you plopped on your couch, your dog jumping to your lap .” Why—Why are men—Like—”You didn’t know what you wanted to ask. “No, never mind that’s my question,” and it was. “Why are men?”

She let out a soft laugh. “Why are men indeed. More specifically, why is Chad?” She joked.

You laughed, too, with distress, running a hand through your face. “Ugh, don’t even mention him,” you whined. “He’s an asshole, can you imagine just a week ago he wanted to sleep with me?” You snaked with disbelief.

She groaned. “What I really have trouble understanding is why you ever wanted to sleep with him.” You had the question backwards, why had he ever looked at you? “Maybe his personality, but he seems like such a wad.”

You didn’t know how to answer the question. Then again, you had the same question for her. Why Danny? Why, being such an incredible woman, had she chosen Danny? Love is blind. You’d learned that over the years.

Maybe because ‘Danny and Sophia’ sounded like something with balance. But did it really? How could she see it so simply?

“Look—I—” You took a deep breath. “I believe in love at first sight,” and you did, in your own way. “and I don’t know, I guess—I saw the fantasy, you know?” You explained. “Thought we could—I don’t know, he was charming,” because he had been, at very first, he had been charming and he’d learned how to make you fall in love with him. “I guess I wanted that, you know the whole love story,” you sounded so childish and stupid but how could anyone ever apologize for being in love. “And he made me believe he could give it to me and then he just never—”You had to face the truth. “He only wanted sex and I fell in love,” it all ended so simply. Maybe Sophia was right all along. “Pathetic right?”

She watched you, and you saw it, the pity in her eyes. Yet someone else feeling sad for you.  She probably did think you were pathetic. “No, I don’t think it’s pathetic… I think… well, I’ve come to the conclusion that love isn’t worth any cost,” she answered. “Not really, especially since it doesn’t even seem real.” You wondered again, how come she’d never felt it. “Love makes people get their hopes up. It makes us… give too much of ourselves to other people, when we don’t even know what our future with them looks like,” she explained. Yes you were probably a mental woman to her. “But I don’t think it’s pathetic that you wanted to believe in something that only seems to come from fairytales, I just think that’s what most people do.”

How bad is it to want a fairytale? “Love is worth it, though,” you said, because how come a beautiful feeling could carry so much pain. “It’s men who are the problem.”

She grinned, defeatedly. “Suppose you got me there…”

You had to ask though. “But you... like really don’t believe in love?” You asked. “Then why were you with Danny? Didn’t you love him?”

She grimaced and took a sip of her wine. “You know,” she paused to think a bit. “I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” You understood that part, believing someone loves you back and then it turns out they didn’t… Well, it hurt. “But, I guess he just…”She probably didn’t understand it herself. “And it just made me realize that, even if love is real, it comes so rarely that I don't believe I would ever find it.” That you could understand, though you were so enthusiastic about the feeling, you knew you weren’t meant to find it. “I just don’t think most people do.” She watched you, curiously. “Why have you put so much into it if you were hurt?”

It was an escape, really. Love seemed to make people happy and you wanted to be happy. She reminded you so much of Tim, talking trash about love and not understanding the thrill for it. Being so done with the feeling.

“I think… I dunno, love isn’t a one time thing,” you started with that, because it was true. “I think the problem is I suffered from unrequited love, but I think I… I dunno, I think we get chances,” you said. “Not me though,” you scoffed. “but it’s… I don’t know, I think I’ve always read about love and I’ve always wanted that, and love is complicated, that’s it,” you said, because love could come in so many ways. “I don’t think you can easily-“You shook your head. “I mean I do believe in a sort of thing like love at first sight but I mean, I believe in second chances, but like not for everyone,” seemed like believed in second chances for Chad. “ I guess I… I think there is such a thing as love I’m just… “ you took a deep breath. “super unlucky and maybe that sweet fantasy of any Julia Roberts’ romcom isn’t for me, I’m destined to be a side character who gets no… attention.” Or love.

Sophia probably believed you were helpless. You were. “Oh, come on Iris, that’s not true,” it was easy for her to say. She was the main character. “I mean, if you do come here then you’ll have plenty of opportunity to live a Julia Roberts movie. People seem to find this place so thrilling…” Why wouldn’t they. “I don’t seem to know much about love, or to really be the one to talk to about it, though… “ She admitted truthfully. She gave it a thought. “You know, you should talk to my friend, Tom, if you come. I think you’d get along well, he gushes on about love all the time.”

Your dog raised its head as soon as he heard his name. Tom. You smiled and petted him. “It is thrilling I mean, it’s near Notting Hill,” you were excited. “I just need Hugh Grant and that’s it but…”You knew it wouldn’t come. “You might come here and hate on love with my brother, he hates everything related to it.”

He really did. Tim was even worse than her. Tim never, ever had believed in love. He said he didn’t want to bother about it, no commitment, not ever seeing someone twice because why would he? He said it was a waste of time. Shades of gray on love. And he said he didn’t want to risk just to get hurt. He said love was… a mystery he didn’t want to explore. He liked simple things.

“Really? He sounds better than most men already,” she commented.

You laughed. “He’s not.”

If you ever bumped into someone like your brother you’d end up running the other way.

She chuckled. “Aren’t siblings meant to support one another?”

You scoffed. “You’d think that,” you pointed out. “But no, he’s a man,” you stated clearly. “I don’t know who’s worse men who hate love or men who pretend to love love,” you snaked. Probably the second one. “Your friend is probably the second one.”

Men who don’t believe in love at least are direct about it, and the second type they know and try to hurt you.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He seems to really believe in it, maybe more than you. He’s really sweet, typically… “She said. “I mean, he is a man so he has his days”

You heard her…. And then you clicked it. Tom, that friend of hers, he probably was in love with her. “Oh,” you closed your eyes. “Of course…. so… Right, right,” she chuckled. “But you don’t believe in love and...Right, right,” you thought it was ironic. You hadn’t even met the guy but you could tell that he probably was so smitten with her and she didn’t see it. A perfect love story.  Why couldn’t she see it? “Perfect setup, see?” You said. “This town is perfect for you, nothing that has to do with romance. It’s a great way to get away from everything romance.”

She seemed confused, because of course, she didn’t see it, she couldn’t, for that matter. But god, how did she not see it?

“Then I can’t wait to go, really,” she went along. “I mean, it seems perfect for you here, too. You can surround yourself in things to remember the “fantasy” of love again,” she offered. “So, are we really switching tomorrow?”

You couldn’t quite put your mind to it. It had been hours of you speaking with this stranger. And all because you wanted to change lives with a stranger. Were you actually going to go through with it? You wanted to.

“You think there are any flights?” You asked, half joking.

“I’m sure there have to be some. Should we check?” She offered.

You smirked and reached for your laptop, conveniently in front of you. “Definitely.”

You expected her to back up.

“Wonderful.” She hadn't. “How long are we doing this for?”

Forever? You wanted to say. “Uh, depends, holidays are coming soon… “ You pointed you. “So, even though I have no interest in spending Christmas here, what’s your idea?”

Because you didn’t want to spend Christmas with your family and hear that question, because you’d promised you’d bring Chad for Christmas. Why? You didn’t know. Because you were an idiot.

Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Nothing is really keeping me here for it, honestly.”

“I’m just-- you’re okay with dogs, right?” You asked as you pointed the camera at your puppy, honestly you had lied, Tommy was the love of your life. A young pug who loved to follow you around. “Because little Tommy here is going to miss me.”

She smiled at him. “I’d love to take care of… did you say…”She tried not to laugh. “l-little Tommy?”

You grinned as you hugged the dog close. “Yeah, his name is Tom. He’s the only male that matters.”

“Oh, I love that. I would love to trade Tom’s with you,” she chuckled.

Oh god, why didn’t she see it?

“As long as I don’t have to feed that one,” you chuckled.

“I do hope that you don’t have to, he seems somewhat capable of caring for himself,” she grinned. “Oh, by the way. He’ll be running my shop for me while I’m away, sometimes he stays later for work so if you hear him downstairs don’t worry.”

Of course he was, he was in love with her. You chuckled and then started to actually look for flights. “I probably won’t notice, honestly…” You scrolled through the flights and there was one. “Okay so here’s a flight, can you believe there’s actually one for tomorrow?”

She probably was looking for flights. “I found one too, shockingly enough… Are we really going through with this?”

Were you?

You were excited, scared but excited. “I think we are.”

“Well, alright then… “ She seemed to be rational yet.

“On three then….?” You asked, knowing this decision would probably change your entire life, not sure why. BUt you had a feeling that this was either the worst decision you’d ever made or the best one. This was the so-needed break you needed, you needed to breathe, and this was the perfect way to do so. Yes, this was unplanned and this was mysterious but this was what you needed an irrational decision.

“One…”She started.

“Two…”

“Three!” You said at the same time.

You’d bought the ticket. There was no going back now. You were going to London to a Stranger’s house for the Holidays.

sophia’s version <- REMEMBER TO READ TO KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH TOM. 

story masterlist.

next chapter

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