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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Parking Lot

This is a love letter to the Dean who told Cassie everything about his life after knowing her for 2 weeks and who didn’t see What Is And What Should Never Be as a horror show until he saw his bond with Sam was gone. I don’t think it would work for a later seasons Dean, who had pretty conclusively abandoned this idea for himself. I’d love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Parking Lot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3801

Summary: A parking lot quickie leads to an illuminating argument between Dean and the reader.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst, ~*idiots in love*~, fluff

In a couple ways it seemed like a lesson; you really shouldn’t have been fooling around in a parking lot no matter how late at night it was. Especially not a bar’s parking lot, potentially more likely to be busy at this hour, shadows be damned.

But it wasn’t all your fault, not by a long shot. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, getting a Manhattan rather than his standard straight bourbon just for the cherry, rolling it around with his tongue and licking his fingers of the juice while you waited for the guys you were playing pool against to shoot.

If Sam had been there you might’ve been able to keep it together for politeness’s sake, but you didn’t give a shit about these people and you weren’t doing research for a case, just blowing off steam post-job before heading out of town in the morning.

Two could play at Dean’s game, though, you arching your back deep into the table to make a shot and practically purring “your turn” when he was up, hovering close enough to see the goosebumps spread over his neck when he smirked and obeyed. He finished the game lightning fast with a string of laser-focused shots and you silently downed the rest of his drink as the guys ponied up, tossing thick folds of cash onto the table and shaking Dean’s hand. You didn’t even feel guilty for hustling them, partly for their ignoring you but mostly for the distraction of Dean’s hands reracking the balls and grabbing your coat, sliding a palm to your lower back with his pinky just barely under your waistband. It was all you could do to wait until you get to the back of the parking lot to shove him up against the Impala and bite his bottom lip almost too hard before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

You felt the smile and heard the groan at the same time, both pouring into your mouth as you ripped at Dean’s jacket, trying to yank his flannel off his shoulders with it. You abandoned the project to paw at Dean’s tee once you’d gotten the outer layers bunched down around his elbows, kissing him hungry and dark like he was yours to take.

One of Dean’s bitten off groans trailed off into a barely-there whimper. For all his posturing he loved this, when he could give up being predator and let go for a few minutes to be your prey. He didn’t start fumbling for the door handle until you flicked open his belt, his other hand clutching at a handful of hair at the back of your neck and kissing down your jugular fast and hard. Imagining the way Sam was going to roll his eyes at the hickeys only added adrenaline while Dean finally got the backseat door open, sliding you in and unfurling on top of you. Still working on his jeans, you dragged him tight between your legs.

“You are—so—mean,” you grinned between kisses. “Teasing me like—that.”

Dean’s eyebrows kicked up on his forehead, playing dumb like you knew he would. “Me? Never.” His act dropped the moment you finally got his fly open, wrapping your hand around his cock through his boxers and punching all the air out of his lungs. His head rolled back on his neck almost violently, impossibly long eyelashes grazing his cheekbones and lips parted around a breathy “fuck.”

His switch flipped, Dean scrambled to strip you as fast as possible. You tried to help him in large part to avoid tearing your clothes, ending up crushed into the leather of the bench seat somehow with one leg fully out of your jeans and underwear, the other knee tangled up in the fabric. He’d shoved up your shirt and bra and it would’ve been uncomfortable and tight if any of your senses had been turned to it instead of Dean wetting his middle finger to slip-slide along your clit, murmuring something about “I love it when you do that,” into the side of your neck as he swirled circles into you. After a few moments you were writhing in the seat and Dean pulled that finger back up, sucking you off of it before pushing it up inside you, then another.

“Fuck me, Jesus Christ Dean,” you moaned against his tongue, yanking him forward until he guided himself into you. The stunted warm-up helped but that first push was always a shock, and whatever sound you made was loud enough that Dean covered your mouth with his hand, grinning conspiratorially down over fingers still steeped in you as he thumped you into the car door.

“Quiet—someone’s going to hear you.”

You bit his hand and Dean yelped with a chuckle, pulling it back before you roped around his neck and kissed him lasciviously. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” you smirked.

He stabilized himself against the Impala’s door to pound into you harder, you wrapping your legs around his waist and whisper-moaning filthy nothings into his ear, biting his neck until suddenly you felt that finely honed awareness pique in the back of your mind, flaring hot enough to burn and you froze, thighs clamped tight around Dean.

“Baby, I—”

“Don’t fucking move—did you hear that?” you hissed.

Dean tried to pull back and tensed hard, shuddering into you as you tried to lift your head to see as surreptitiously as possible before the delayed processing hit you. When you looked up at Dean he didn’t meet your eyes, wincing over one shoulder with his arms still planted.

“Tell me you didn’t,” you whispered.

He was silent for a half-second, still didn’t meet your eyes. “I tried t—you fucking death-gripped me with your legs, what was I supp—”

“Oh my god, get off of me,” you yelped, trying your best to sit up and snatch at anything to clean yourself up before realizing it was useless. “FUCK! Fuck, Dean, fuck, what’re we going to—I can’t be—”

He leaned back into the seat to get back into his jeans and fasten his belt. “One thing at a time, okay? They’ve got like pills and stuff right? We don’t even know if it’ll take.”

You rolled your eyes angrily at him as you jammed your leg back into your jeans. “Our fucking luck it’s already triplets.” You ran a hand through your hair and took a deep, hard breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“No, I get it.” He slumped into the seat next to you. A long beat passed, you and Dean both sitting stupid, half-dressed in jeans and untied boots, hair all over the place. He cleared his throat. “Wanna head out?” His voice was small and rough; you knew he was sorry and maybe a little embarrassed. If you were more highly evolved you might’ve been able to console him more in that moment, but your heart was bounding through your chest about what was going to happen next—if. You managed to squeeze his hand in solidarity if nothing else before grabbing your stuff and moving to the front seat.

Minutes of silent road passed before Dean reached over and covered your knee with his hand. You capped it with one of yours and saw his lips twitch up at the corner in response.

He glanced over at you tentatively. “Maybe it uh, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?”

Your incredulity spun you around in your seat so you were fully squared to him. “What?”

It was dark in the car but you thought maybe Dean’s cheeks started to look pink. “I don’t know, teaching a little squirt how to play catch or whatever, might be cute.”

“You cannot be serious.”

His eyes flicked back over to you and his lips pursed out, trying to look non-plussed. “Whatever. Just trying to make you feel better.”

“No, you’re not. Because that exact possibility is scaring the shit out of me right now and two minutes ago you were trying to convince me we were going to pill this away. So it’s—is that something you want? Having a kid someday?”

Dean took his hand back under the guise of using two hands to turn the steering wheel. “No.”

You waited, willed your own heartbeat to slow down. As you knew he would, Dean kept talking, keeping his eyes on the road more to avoid the vulnerability of looking in your eyes rather than out of necessity on the long, straight stretch of road. “I don’t know. It really seems that bad to you? Having something that’s really, like, ours? Just you and me?”

“We’re not talking about a something, Dean, we’re talking about a fucking kid.”

“Jesus, fine, forget it. Sorry I asked.”

His knuckles went white on the steering wheel and underlined that Dean Was Done Talking. What an absolute waste of a fun little night out, leaving Sam to have a couple hours alone. Now instead of getting back looser to a well-rested Sam, you were going to barrel into this crappy motel terrified with a pissed off Dean, dropping it all at the younger Winchester’s feet to deal with (again).

It took you until the motel parking lot to muster up the courage to touch Dean’s wrist. “Can we talk for a second?” Dean pretended to be annoyed but you could tell it was an act shielding a spot of tenderness. He flopped his hands in his lap and looked over at you expectantly. “Maybe it’s dumb to even talk about this; like you said, it might be nothing. But I just—I mean if—do you really want that? What would that even look like? Not even with me or whatever obviously but leaving hunting, leaving Sam—”

“Leaving Sam? Who said anything about leaving Sam?”

“You volunteering him as nanny?”

Dean sort of half-rolled his eyes and shifted to face you. “You know as well as I do that Sam doesn’t want to be doing this, not forever. I’m not saying we should be fucking trying, obviously, I’m just—I’m going to stick around no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ditch you with my mistake.”

You scoffed. “How noble.”

“Not like that. But I’m not a complete moron, I know we’ve played with fire a couple times and I know what I’m doing.”

“I guess I just figured that was heat of the moment stuff.”

A flash of something passed over his face, gone almost too fast for you to decipher. Offense? Sadness? “Yeah, part of it. But you—you’ve never even thought about it?”

“Thought about how I’d get a couple hundred dollars and find a clinic, yeah. I—we can’t be hunters with a baby. And I won’t be stashed in some safe house somewhere, see you and Sam for a day or two every couple months, be the loner single mom who can’t tell anyone anything about her life.”

“Single mom? I’m not a fucking deadbeat. I just said I wouldn’t make you deal alone.”

You shot him an exasperated look and took a deliberate breath to keep from rising to the bait. “So what, now you want to get married? Dean, I’m not even really your damn girlfriend.”

He reached for the handle fast enough that you had to scramble across the seat after him, Dean pausing in the open door. “Look, if it’s not what you want, that’s fucking fine. But don’t patronize me. Not my fucking girlfriend? Fuck you.”

You flew across the Impala and out of the passenger door, following Dean as he stormed across the asphalt. “Fuck me? How are you mad at me?”

He spun on his heel in the parking lot. “I tell you I’m willing to leave all of this—all of everything I really know, fucked up as that is—for you, would make you my whole future and you, you—your response is that you’re not even my girlfriend? Yeah, fuck you.”

“Dean, that’s not what I—” but he had already started storming back to the room. “DEAN!” you yelled, standing stock still in the middle of the lot. He paused with his back to you for what felt like a long second before turning back around. “I don’t want to bring this back to Sam. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—I’m scared shitless about something that might not even happen and then you spring the idea of some shotgun wedding on me—”

He rolled his eyes without even a hair of humor, the muscles in his jaw tensing hard enough to catch the cold overhead light. “See, how can you—” he started, before taking a deep, deliberate breath and starting over in a tone that was forced calm. “That’s everything I ha—that’s all I can give you, is loving you and fucking being there for you. So if it’s that fucking cheap or skanky to you then I’m sorry for wasting your fucking time.” When you didn’t respond his spine straightened a few degrees. “What? Say something. Tell me how stupid I am for suggesting that being tied together might not ruin your fucking life.”

You felt that your mouth had fallen open but didn’t care. “You love me?”

Dean’s face contorted like he was looking at a mirage of something bizarre, curious and disbelieving and frustrated. “I lo—of course I love you, what the fuck?”

“Y—you’ve never said that to me.”

“What? Yes I have.” His voice softened a shade, the certainty his anger had afforded him beginning to slip away like sand at high tide, but his eyebrows stayed indignant.

You’d never been more certain of anything in your life, that Dean had never said that, because it was something you wanted constantly. Craved, even. Were kept awake at night by; the desire to have your feelings for Dean reciprocated too intense even to dream about. So you justified and bargained with yourself: if fooling around and this kind of casual commitment—girl who would cover him and Sam in a firefight and didn’t hound him for a label—was what he wanted, it was what you would give. Anything for more time with him or the chance to kiss those lips, to see the way he looked first thing in the morning, to get annoyed at his bullshit idiosyncrasies.

“No, you haven’t.” So many more words tried to burst forward from you that you had to bite your lip to be sure your mouth stayed closed.

Dean held your eyes, willing you to say something until he lost his patience. “Who says that stupid shit all the time anyway? You know I love you; I’d do fucking anything for you.” His voice had started to rise again but the heat behind it was some sort of hungry desperation, not hurt rage. “I’m—you don’t think I love you?”

You started to feel completely exposed by the industrial light, seared alive by green eyes. Shifting your weight from foot to foot didn’t help, and you fought angrily against the lump forming in your throat.

He looked over his shoulder and the barked “FUCK!” startled you despite yourself. “Kid, I—FUCK, that’s what this is? I loved you since that first fucking hunt in Cleveland! You really think I’m just…? This isn’t some Beaver Cleaver ‘I put you in a family way’ bullshit, I—I don’t know, I just, with you it feels like for the first time maybe it’s not insane to think that I could—that we could—whatever, man, I’m not fucking talking about this.” A hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic you recognized immediately.

You took two big steps toward him. “Dean, I just—I didn’t know. That’s—I mean I’m not going to say I’ve been thinking about it; but it—it’s more because I didn’t even think it was on the table, you know? I thought we were, I don’t know, really close friends that sleep together.”

Dean’s eyebrows flew up his forehead and he blew an almost-laugh out of his nose. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Never heard of any friends that live together and fuck raw.” His tongue slid along his molars and he sucked his teeth looking down at the ground, flicker of a despondent, self-deprecating smile twitching his lips. “Uh, noted, I guess. Sorry I misunderstoo—” and his eyes on the blacktop prevented him from seeing you cross the few strides between you, catching him off guard when you kissed him hard enough to bruise, hard enough to feel everything you wanted to say, wanted to scream (at him, from the rooftops, ohmygodhelovesme) take a backseat for a moment. He grunted at the impact, stunned for a half-beat before surging forward into you, wrapping into your hair and pawing at your hips with desperate effort to get closer. Feeling the grin against your mouth, you wished you weren’t standing in the absolute middle of the parking lot, frenzy to have something to push each other against building to a fever pitch inside you when Dean tugged your hair back to look at your face.

He looked downright pornographic; swollen, flushed pout and impossible lashes framing bedroom eyes Marilyn or Sophia would’ve envied. A washing of cockiness only amplified the effect, those pillowy lips pulling into a lazy smirk. “So is this a really-close-friends kiss or what? Trying to figure out how much tongue I’m supposed to slip you.”

You giggled good-naturedly, letting the weight of your head press into his palm. “You are such an asshole.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love it.” He sucked on that sweet pulse spot under your ear deeply, some accessory movement with his tongue enough to make you see stars and miss that it was you letting out that ungraceful whine-moan. When Dean spoke the air passing over your spit-slick neck exploded in goosebumps. “And I love you.”

Dean kissed you in that searching, delicious, eat-you-alive way he sometimes did after a particularly victorious hunt when he either had all the time in the world or didn’t give a fuck about making it; soothing-probing with a little edge of danger that hypnotized you. It pulled at the sweater of your being and tugged, steady and cloying until you were something loose and ephemerous in Dean’s hands, something equally likely to float away or explode right there in that parking lot, clearing a hundred miles in every direction and leaving behind only the imprint of your craving for him. It’s a miracle your brain was able to function at all. In the best circumstances this flayed you open and coming on the heels of having the most beautiful gift you could imagine dropped at your feet—Dean loves you, he loves you and always has—it felt like it could stop your heart and you wouldn’t care.

“I need about twenty minutes in a cold shower or I promise I’ll knock you up right the fuck here,” Dean growled, low with sin directly into your ear.

You laughed breathily. “I thought you said that might be a good thing.”

His chuckle was rough as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. He rested there for a moment before murmuring into your hair. “You really thought we were just messing around?”

“Dean, come on, I—don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

You swallowed shakily, tried to get a handle on your thoughts through the endorphins. “You—I—I’ve had it bad for you, thought if I really like, acknowledged it that it might fuck up what I did get to have of you or that some commitment would freak you out or whatever so I just—I don’t know, tried to be cool about it. Obviously we’ve always been kind of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ when we were apart—”

Dean cut off your rambling. “Uh, has there been something you’ve been ‘don’t tell’-ing? I wasn’t ‘don’t ask don’t tell’-ing.”

“You haven’t?” you asked, surprised enough to be knocked off your nebulous trail of thought.

“No, I mean—no. You would’ve been fine with that?” The disbelief was so clear on his face it was practically casting a glow around him.

“Not fine with it—of course not—the thought of it kept me up nights, but I didn’t you to think I was some jealous freak.”

A smile spread over his face slowly, butter on hot toast. “So you would’ve been jealous?”

“I was jealous, I thought that’s what was happening.”

Dean’s head lolled back on his neck a few degrees, smirk cementing itself in place. “That’s kinda hot.”

It took the tension out of the moment and you chuckled under your breath, glancing down at your feet. “Yeah, you would say that right now, psycho.” It was breathy and shaky but Dean let you have it, throwing his elbow around your neck affectionately and tucking you into his side. With a kiss to the crown of your head, he started you both walking to the room lazily. At the door, you stilled him as he reached for the knob.

“Would you really want to keep it? Like, no bullshit, if that’s the situation, that I’m actually—you know, you wouldn’t want me to…?”

He licked his lips and bit the bottom one. They parted for a moment before he began to speak as his gaze flicked between your eyes. “Babe,” he finally breathed, and there was a note of croak there. “I’m in this for the long haul. If that’s where we’re going then we’ll deal with it. If you don’t—if you’re not there, I get it, but for me, I—yeah. If it’s going to be anyone for me, it’s you.”

“Even now?”

“I could think of worse things. Worse things have happened to me this week, probably.”

There were so many follow up questions running through your mind, so many rock-solid certainties that Dean wouldn’t really be able to quit hunting, that even figuring out how to go to an OB-gyn on fake IDs was likely to be more complicated than either of you realized, but his lack of hesitation was so sweet, so earnest, and you were still riding that he loves me high. And you might’ve gotten lucky; it might be nothing, no parking lot baby to contend with, just a tense reminder to be more careful next time. It was easier than you might’ve thought to give yourself permission to relish it for the night, consequences be damned.

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spook-central · 3 years

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So you know how I said I was gonna write a short Ray fic based on that garage kiss in Some Kind of Wonderful?

GUESS WHAT I DID IT

I’ll be posting it here and on archive of our own! Find me there at egonspenglersnose and give it some love!)

It’s based on this scene and this song if you need a little more context! Enjoy!

•••

She Loves Me

Word Count: 2939

Warnings: none it’s fluffy!

The day had started off normally enough, aside from the usual craziness that often occurred around the firehouse. Spring was in the air, and after what had felt like a bleak and oppressive winter, it was finally time to open up the doors and air the place out.

It felt good, letting the spring air in, and it made your overtime far more bearable.

You often stayed late a few times a week to make sure everything was caught up on for the next day when things got busy during the work week, something which Janine always appreciated greatly. Tonight was no exception, but the sun staying out for a longer time in the evenings definitely made it more enjoyable.

It also helped that Ray had lingered behind this evening to work on the Ecto. You had always been incredibly fond of him, and it was obvious to just about everyone that a crush had blossomed on your part.

You recalled the day you had met him; they had hired you on the spot mainly because they needed the help but also because you had a fairly impressive resume, and Ray was one of the first of the guys you had been introduced to.

He was quite honestly one of the best looking men you had ever met, and so incredibly sweet. You immediately liked him and got a good feeling about him.

You loved how passionate he was about the Ecto, and his overall knowledge of cars had always impressed you. Even if you didn’t know much about them, you loved his enthusiasm for them and it easily rubbed off on you.

Now, as you finished up the last of your paperwork for the evening, you could hear him tinkering away not far from you. Ecto had her fair share of problems, but there was nothing Ray wouldn’t do for that car. It was like another member of the team, and you couldn’t imagine the guys doing anything without it.

Ray would occasionally come in from where he was working for something he needed, and your eyes would meet on occasion. You had never had the guts to tell him of your feelings. Ray was just so cute and enthusiastic about what he did that it was hard NOT to give him heart eyes 24/7.

From time to time, you would hear him shuffle in for a drink of water or a missing wrench that he had left in the lab, smiling at him as you took in the sight of his wild brown hair and big, sweet eyes. How was it fair for one human to be that cute? You felt like you were sixteen again with the way you wanted to fawn over him.

However, restraint was a quality you possessed as well, and you hoped that you had been able to be somewhat subtle around him.

Oh well, maybe someday you would have enough courage. Sighing as you finished up your paperwork for the night, you stood to stretch your back, adjusting your jeans, purse and blouse as you made your way towards the door.

“She still down and out?” You asked Ray as you came to stand carefully beside the lovely car he had so caringly constructed and repaired. It really was his baby, in a funny way, and you respected the work that had gone into it a great deal. Ecto kept the guys in one piece, and you gave the vehicle a sweet little pat on the roof as if to say thank you.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he said, his voice echoing off of the metal interior before attempting to stand up too quickly and bumping his head on it. “Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it always gets me like that,” he chuckled, rubbing the spot on the back of his head that had been bumped and smiling that sweet, bright smile of his at you that always made you melt. “Are you headed out for the day?”

“Yup, unless you need anything else from me that is,” truth be told, you would’ve gladly stayed all night just to hang around with him. Ray seemed hesitant to fully say Goodnight, and you couldn’t help wondering if he was thinking the same thing.

“Well, uh...hand me the socket wrench?” You had gotten a fairly decent rundown of which tools were which upon receiving your first car as a teenager thanks to your father, so luckily you knew exactly what he needed. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” adjusting your purse on your shoulder, you couldn’t help asking about a case that had piqued your interest. “How did that class 5 turn out?”

“The one from yesterday?”

“Yeah, that one sounded nuts!”

“It was,” he laughed, “Venkman’s aim is getting better, he didn’t make any chandeliers explode this time.”

“I thought that one was Egon?”

You both laughed, and part of you was thrilled at how naturally conversation came for the both of you.

Needing a socket wrench turned into needing pliers, but soon enough Ray ran out of tools to need and it was clear that he really just wanted to spend time with you. You weren’t about to object in the slightest, comfortably sitting on a nearby stool and watching as he worked.

Truth be told, he had liked you ever since meeting you on that first day. You were always kind to him, and listened to anything he had to say no matter how out there it was.

He also couldn’t help thinking that you were incredibly pretty and very smart, but his own shy nature prevented him from saying so the way he wanted to.

A long time passed with you talking to Ray as he worked, and it was quite nice. The sun was setting now, the light golden as it streamed in from the open door beside the Ecto, but you didn’t mind.

“So Venkman seriously busted up this woman’s entire China cabinet?” The conversation had strayed back to Venkman now, and you couldn’t help laughing. He was such an odd duck, and you always got a kick out of him and his wild antics.

“We were able to blame it on the ghost being rowdy, but my god, it was a mess!” Ray tried to smooth back his messy hair as he laughed again, his hands covered in engine grease and not helping the situation much.

“He seems like he can be a real peach when he’s not causing trouble,” you rolled your eyes, smiling as Ray closed up the Ecto’s hood.

“He teases me plenty, that’s for sure, but I love him. He’s one of my best friends,” Ray was clearly fond of Venkman, and you didn’t doubt that their bond was a special one.

“What on earth does he tease you about?”

“Mostly my luck with women. Not that his is anything to go by,” this got a gut laugh out of you, and you were surprised by how witty Ray could be at times.

“No kidding. What, does he think you haven’t got game or something?”

“He tells me women won’t want to kiss me since I smoke so much.” Ray rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help thinking about how far from the truth that actually was. “Or he acts like I don’t know how to do it at all. I mean, sure, I spend a lot of time at work but I’m not a complete hermit.”

You both laughed again, and you sat your purse on the ground as you got a rather cheeky idea. Was it even smart to try and approach things like this? Would he go for it? God, you hoped so.

“I’m sure you know how. I mean, everybody has a general idea of how to lay a proper smooch on someone if they want to.”

He raised an eyebrow at this, thinking the phrasing was humorous and wanting to hear more from you on this subject in particular.

“A ‘proper smooch’?”

“Yeah, you know. The kiss that kills. Butterflies and rainbows and all that stuff.”

He watched you as you took a few causal steps toward the Ecto now, the gears visibly turning in his head. Was this some subtle attempt at flirting?

The nearby radio, which had been playing softly in the background the whole time, played a song that perfectly fit the mood, the lyrics softly ringing out as you contemplated what to say next.

‘Who made the rule

that I should always play the fool?

All the nights I suffered

when I need not have bothered…’

“I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those, now that I think about it,” he admitted with a half smile.

“I uh...I think I’ve gotten close, but never all the way there,” you tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, watching as Ray adjusted his uniform, which he still had on. It had smudges of engine grease on it now, and you found it endearing.

He realized that this chance was now or never, gauging by the look in your eyes that you wanted what he wanted and deciding to go for it.

“How would it work? I mean...you seem like you know more about it than me,” he took a step closer, and you knew your eyes were shining in an undeniably flirty way.

“Oh you—you want me to show you?”

“I mean...if you feel up to it. I’m no expert and I could use the help.” Cheeky man, you thought. You could certainly show him if that was what he wanted.

“Do you have your eye on somebody, Ray?”

He wiped his hands on a nearby rag, the tension heightening as you watched them and then met his eyes again. You had always had a thing for those wonderful hands of his.

“I guess you could say that, yeah,” he nodded, his big brown eyes warm and sincere and you knew what he wanted to say but didn’t right then.

Instead of pressing further, you nodded, thinking this might be the most fun lesson you ever had the pleasure of teaching anyone as you got right into it.

“Well...I mean, first you have to start off in a stationary position. That helps,” he was closer now, and your cheeks flashed a soft tinge of pink as the space between you lessened. You didn’t usually have it in you to be playful, but decided to gently hop up on the hood of the Ecto in an attempt to bring him closer. “Come a little closer than that. Can’t do a thing from that far away.”

You moved to scoot nearer to the edge of the hood, willing Ray closer and practically beaming as he closed the space between you both more and more with each step.

Had anyone else sat on the hood like this, Ray might have gotten finicky, but the sight of you so close to the car he loved so much actually only ended up getting him going even more.

“It definitely helps,” he rubbed the back of his neck now, seeing that this had clearly turned into something beyond just a lesson in kissing techniques. You could smell his cologne now that he was so close, which only seemed to set your senses on overdrive even further.

“Now, uh...do you know where your hands go?”

His eyebrows raised in what seemed like a mix of curiosity and confusion, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched now that he stood directly in front of you.

“My hands?”

“Yeah. They go on the hips of whoever you’re kissing,” the mood had certainly shifted now, and you felt more daring than you ever had before. A timid smile crossed your face as Ray allowed you to guide his hands to the appropriate place, and the realization that this was definitely about to happen made your stomach do leaps.

“Hips, got it.” God, his hands were so strong and steady and you didn’t even care if this got engine grease on your jeans, it was just thrilling to have him this close.

“Okay, now look into my eyes. Eye contact is important.” The both of you gave a shy, breathy chuckle as your eyes met, and you playfully shoved Ray’s chest. “Come on, we’ve gotta take this seriously if you want to learn anything.”

“Sorry, I get a little skittish with these things,” he admitted, and you shook your head with a smile.

“It’s okay, but the lesson isn’t quite over yet,” you said, your cheeks noticeably warmer. The tension was enough to make your heart race.

“Alright, and uh...after that?”

“Well, uh...my hands go here,” you reached up to loop your arms around his neck, inevitably bringing him directly between your legs and causing Ray to clear his throat.

“How do you, uh...I mean, how do you know that that happens every time?”

“I watch a lot of TV, I guess,” you managed a soft laugh with this, “now, uh...close your eyes.”

Ray’s heart was pounding. Was this seriously about to happen?

“Close my—? Oh, yeah, okay.” He nodded a bit, doing as you said and knowing he had wanted this for what felt like forever. He was so handsome up close, and you couldn’t believe your luck.

It was time to go in for the kill, and you didn’t waste a second.

Leaning in, the first contact was soft and exploratory, and it took Ray a moment to figure out exactly how to respond. But once he got the angle right, it was everything you had described and more.

The music swelled on the radio nearby, and you thought you could’ve melted right then and there.

‘The minutes that we missed

idle lips that should’ve kissed

and now gently together

The first kiss lasts forever

She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me, all the time…’

Tilting his head a bit, Ray found just the right angle, and one kiss turned into what felt like a million. Your hands made their way into his hair, that hair you loved so much that often seemed to fly out in all directions.

His lips were soft and very pleasant to kiss, and it occurred to you that he must use lip balm of some kind. Ray himself couldn’t believe this was happening. He honestly couldn’t fathom how he had been lucky enough to end up kissing you like this, but he was, and he was putting everything he had into it.

Ray’s mind moved at a million miles a minute. All he could think about was how it felt when you moved in a rhythm with him, how soft your lips were, your soft body, and how GOOD you smelled—

He nearly sighed as he felt your leg brace around him to bring him in as close as possible, gripping your jeans to pull you close by your hips in return.

You nearly melted into a puddle on the floor at the feeling of his grip, so strong and firm on you like he couldn’t bear to leave any space between the two of you at all.

He must have shaved that morning, you thought, having expected him to have at least a little stubble and feeling surprised that there was none. Where on earth had Ray learned to kiss so well? Boy would Venkman have egg on his face if he knew about THIS.

Unfortunately for you both, you had to break away and breathe at some point, just looking at each other until you finally managed to speak.

“Well, uh...Venkman was wrong. Way wrong. Wow.”

“It was...I mean, was it like you said? Butterflies and—and all that for you too?”

“Are you kidding?” You laughed, “sheesh, I didn’t know you had that in you. You wouldn’t have any trouble hooking any woman you wanted if you kissed her like that.”

He seemed surprised and incredibly flattered, looking down and then back up at you with a grin and eager brown eyes.

“Was it obvious at all that I was referring to you?”

“I kind of hoped that was the case,” both of you grinned then, the final chorus of the song fading out in the background as the spring breeze blew in once more.

‘She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me all the time…’

You couldn’t resist leaving a sweet peck on Ray’s cheek just because you could, earning a bright smile from him as he got a somewhat playful gleam in his eye.

“The guys are gonna be gone for the rest of the evening, and I don’t have anything else planned...would you want to grab some dinner with me?”

“Sure, but only if we can do more of this afterwards,” you giggled, and Ray helped you off the hood of the Ecto to stand you up and kiss you so that he could press you flush against him now. You were sure you looked like a cartoon character with birds chirping around your head as he pulled away.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ray said, unable to keep from grinning as he took your hand, “but you’ve got yourself a deal.”

What a lesson to teach with anyone, you thought. He was a fast learner, that was for sure.

Picking up your purse, the two of you headed out, and you couldn’t help humming that lovely chorus to yourself one last time.

‘She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me all the time…’

#ghostbusters #dan aykroyd #ray stantz #ray stantz x reader #ray stantz fanfic #ghostbusters fanfiction

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raibebe · 4 years

Text

Soft core

Genre: Fluff(?) Words: 11,4 k holy shit this is insane Prompt: Jaehyun in his vampire bdsm outfit he wore in the Punch era but make it sfw Warnings: mentions of blood, brief mentions of member x member relationships, brief descriptions of a panic attack

A/N: This was written for Aimee who loves Jaehyun with her whole heart, happy birthday Aimee 💖 I hope you had an amazing day and like this little something. I know you deactivated but I already started writing this a month ago and I’ll post it anyways in the hope you’ll see this someday and a couple of others will enjoy this as well. I have mixed and matched their outfits and tattoos from both the concept photos and the live stages. Also I’m sorry Johnny, but you fit the role of the shameless flirt so well… Bonus points for anyone who spots all cameos. Special thanks to @burtonized who made me keep going with this and listened to all my complaints.

To say you were nervous before starting your first shift at your new job in a reasonably shady bar not too far from your apartment was an understatement. You seriously questioned your own sanity and why you had even applied for the job when you had seen the offer on the beat up wooden entrance door next to an old motorcycle license plate and a bright green neon sign that illuminated the word ‘open’ a couple of days ago. The blue haired man behind the bar had given you a questioning look after you had entered the bar because you couldn’t have looked any more out of place with your soft sweater between the old wooden interior and the leather the barman and a handful of customers were wearing. It had cost all of your courage and a reminder that you needed to find a job for the weekends to walk up to the bar to ask the barman about the job offer. He had asked you a couple of questions like whether you had already waited tables before, which you had (at a place that was lit far better than this one but how different would it be?). The man who had introduced himself as Kun and honestly seemed like a big softie on the inside despite his serious look (it had to be the intense eyebrows) had agreed to hire you on the spot because he had the offer up for a while and no one had come in to ask about it and he couldn’t keep bullying his apparently very chaotic roommates to keep covering the shifts on the busy weekends anymore.

That’s how you found yourself here, a couple of days later on a Friday night, staring at the wooden door yet again (now missing the job offer and not yet illuminated by the neon sign).You took a deep breath and pushed through the door of the bar, this time not looking as out of place as you had before, wearing black skinny jeans and a simple grey v-neck. Kun looked up from where he was wiping down the counter, shooting you a smile. Today he had styled his hair up, exposing his forehead and was wearing a black button up shirt with a bunch of white details that was missing quiet some buttons at the top. “You actually came,” he grinned, “You can put your jacket and bag into the back room.” He pointed to a door with the label ‘staff only’. “We’re opening in half an hour. I’ll introduce you to the others once they decide to arrive.” Nodding you rushed to put your stuff away. You were pleasantly surprised by how clean it was in the back. The beat up interior from the main room was nowhere to be found. So it really didn’t seem too bad if it was only shabby for aesthetic purposes.

After taking a couple of more deep breaths in front of the mirror in the staff room, you felt as prepared as you would ever be and emerged back into the main room of the bar. Next to Kun behind the counter was now another man, clad in the tightest pair of leather pants you had ever seen and a loose, see through black blouse, his long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, showing off a variety of piercings in his ears that were reflecting the low light of the neon signs. When both men noticed you, the blonde flashed you a bright smile and quickly wiped his fingers on the towel he had used to dry some glasses and held it out for you to shake. “Hi, I’m Ten. Kun told me he had finally found someone willing to help us out on the weekends but he missed to tell me how cute you are. Don’t worry the customers are all nice and if anyone gives you any problems, weird stares or makes inappropriate comments, just tell me immediately and I’ll throw them out,” he introduced himself. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the image of this petite man throwing drunken men twice his size out of the bar. “Thank you,” you answered before introducing yourself as well. “Would you please wipe down the tables in the back?” Kun asked, handing you a cloth, “The other waiter should be here any minute, so he can walk you through the process.” “You’re all males working here?” You asked shyly while starting to wipe the tall round tables closest to the bar. “Honey, there’s not many woman brave enough to even set a foot in here even though about eighty percent of our regulars and hundred percent of our staff are big softies hiding behind leather jackets and tattoos,” Ten chirped, disappearing beneath the counter to check the tubes of the beer taps.

Speaking of the other staff, as if on queue the door slammed open to reveal a ridiculously tall man with the biggest brown eyes you had ever seen, his platinum hair swept back from his forehead, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Yooo, the poster with the job offer is gone, did you finally find someone?” The man all but shouted, excitedly bouncing up and down on his way to the bar, shucking off his leather jacket and carelessly throwing it on one of the bar stools to reveal toned arms and a strong chest straining his short sleeved black shirt. “Xuxi, indoor voice please,” Kun groaned, massaging his temples. “Oh sorry,” the other man - Xuxi - answered, flashing Kun big puppy eyes. “We did find someone, please don’t scare her off,” Ten answered Xuxi’s initial question, emerging back from under the counter, smashing the door shut, which caused Kun to groan again. “That thing has a handle for a reason,” he sighed. “It keeps opening itself back up otherwise,” the smaller man shrugged, leaning against the now spotless counter, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Wait, her?” Xuxi asked, eyes wide in either excitement or amazement, “As in she? A girl?” “Yes, hello,” you quietly introduced yourself, stepping out from the corner where you had been cleaning the tabletops.

“Wow, you’re so pretty,” Xuxi said instead of a proper introduction when you walked over to where the three men were standing. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, tinting them a rosy color. Sighing, Kun took the dirty cloth from you and rinsed it in the sink. “This is Xuxi, the other waiter for tonight. As you might have noticed he doesn’t have much of a filter, but i swear he is harmless.” “Just call me Lucas at work, it’s easier,” the man in question grinned, not even bothering to correct Kun and extended a hand for you to shake (needless to say because he was unnecessary tall, his huge hand could almost cover your whole fist). “I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he beamed and even though he had just called you cute, he was definitely the cutest person currently in this room. “Thank you,” you murmured, a smile spreading on your lips because Xuxi’s grin was really infectious and you felt your anxiety disappearing.

In the remaining time before the bar would officially open, Xuxi taught you everything you needed to know. From their system and how you’d take the orders and which tables you would serve to special drinks that weren’t on the menu and what to do if any customers would give you trouble. “There’s probably not much to do for the first two hours or so”, Xuxi concluded, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair, making his muscles dance beneath his shirt, “Like that you can get used to it before it gets packed. Fridays are always busy and there’s a bunch of different people coming. Did any regulars call in before?” He asked the last question to the general direction of the bar. Flipping through a book next to the cash register, Ten nodded. “127 are coming in, they got that big table in the back but other than that, no one called.” “What’s 127?” You asked curiously because that was one of the tables you were supposed to serve. “They’re a group of guys our age, but I’m not really sure what exactly they are to be honest,” Xuxi laughed while fixing the belt that held his wallet before handing you your own one. “I think they are bikers,” Ten supplied, turning around to reorganizing the bottles behind the bar for the third time tonight, “At least some of them have bikes and they sure look the part. Have you seen Johnny’s new tattoo the other week, Xuxi? That must have hurt like hell.” “Yeah, I saw the post with his chestpiece on his Instagram. That man is ripped.” “Well, you’re one to talk,” you murmured under your breath, organizing the contents of the belt to your liking. Laughing out loud, Ten slapped Kun on the chest. “We need to keep her, I like her,” he giggled and Kun just shot you a slightly pained smile, rubbing where Ten’s hand had come down. “Oh come on, old man. I didn’t even hit that hard.” “Stop calling me old, I am literally just two months older than you,” Kun groaned, softly shaking a grinning Ten. Unbothered by the bickering of the two barmen, Xuxi called over from the door: “I’ll switch on the sign!”

Your anxiety came back at full force when the bar started to fill up one hour after it opened. Resisting the urge to hide behind the bar, you approached yet another group of shady looking men to take their orders. Like the other people you had served before, they gave you a weird look while looking up and down your frame once before asking if you were new here. You just nodded and smiled politely while writing down their orders before walking back to the bar where you took out one of the trays and put the note with the order on top so Ten or Kun could put the according drinks on top. “Here, have a little drink, the night is just beginning,” Ten grinned and pushed a glass into your hands before completing the order while somehow also dancing fluently to the music that was playing through the speakers now. You eyed the drink suspiciously, the deep orange color throwing you off a bit. “It’s not spiked, no need to worry,” Xuxi told you, suddenly appearing next to you, placing his own tray with empty glasses onto the counter, winking teasingly before grabbing a colorful bottle to pour a bunch of shots, so Ten and Kun could focus on the other, more complicated drinks on the orders. You drowned the sickly sweet drink quickly and put the glass next to the ones that needed to be rinsed. You mouthed Ten a ‘thank you’ when you picked up your order and he blew you an exaggerated kiss, making you giggle and feel a little more at ease. It was like he had known you were being nervous again.

After checking in with your other tables and earning a big tip from some truckers that actually had been really nice, you made your way back to the bar to help Kun with rinsing the glasses that had been piling up. “You remember those regulars that were coming in tonight?” the blue haired barman suddenly asked, “That’s them.” He nodded towards the door where a group of men were coming in. For a moment, your breath got caught in your throat because Ten hadn’t been wrong earlier when he said that those 127 guys looked like bikers. Honestly anyone of them could have been a model for the leather clothes they were wearing while standing in front of a Harley Davidson or thrashing something with a baseball bat. (Also was one of them wearing a metal harness beneath his leather vest?) “They’re all nice people, no need to worry,” Kun calmed you down, shooting you a reassuring smile before taking the beer glass from your hands that you had started to grip so hard, your knuckles were turning white. “How many are they?” You asked him curiously while eyeing the group as they made their way over to their designated table, greeting other regulars as well as Lucas (one of them was apparently just as incapable of having an indoor voice as him when he loudly yelled ‘Lucas’ before hugging the taller male tightly).

“Yooo, Johnny’s chestpiece looks even more sick in real life,” Lucas said with wide eyes when he came back to the bar. “Also he gave me 20 dollar so I would ask Haechan and Mark if they were even legal when they would order something alcoholic,” he grinned, “I’ll share if you do it.” “How am I supposed to know who to ask?” You asked because even though you were shy, 20 dollars were 20 dollars. “That’s the spirit,” Lucas grinned and threw an arm around your shoulders to turn you in the direction of the table where the men had sat down, not even trying to be subtle about it. “You see the one with the purple hair sitting next to the tall one with half his chest exposed? The purple haired one is Haechan and the tall one is Johnny. Mark is the one on the stool to the left, just ask Haechan for his age first, Mark will be the one to laugh the loudest,” he quickly explained. “You know them quite well,” you said, trying to fight the heat spreading across your cheeks because it didn’t happen any day that you were in such a close proximity to a handsome man like Lucas. “I went to school with Mark,” he shrugged, letting you go when Kun yelled that his order was ready.

Before walking up to their table you took another deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart, repeating in your head how no one had been mean to you yet and that all your coworkers kept on telling you how nice they were supposed to be. “Hi everyone,” you greeted them when you arrived at the table, “Have you already decided what you want to order?” Seeing the chaos that the group was already in, half of them probably didn’t even notice that you had arrived at the table. “Guys!” The pink haired man wearing the harness type thing scolded the others that were bickering in the back of the little booth on the couch. “I’m sorry, they usually behave better,” he smiled and his big eyes combined with his pink hair made him look like he came straight out of an animation. “I’m Taeyong by the way,” the pink haired man supplied, flashing you a genuine smile, “You’re new here, right? I haven’t seen you around before.” “Today is my first day,” you nodded, cheeks heating up under the gaze of the handsome man, nervously playing with your little notepad. “Let’s order, guys!” Taeyong said, the others slowly turning their attention towards you. How all of them were this handsome was beyond your imagination. Shyly you introduced yourself as their waiter for the night for the second time and asked for their orders. One after the other they either ordered plain beer or some really extraordinary cocktails that you had never heard of before. When the purple haired boy, Haechan, ordered his cocktail, you took a deep breath before putting on your best poker face. “Could I see your ID to check your age first?”

As soon as the words had left your lips, the whole table fell dead silent and the boy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. But before you could lose your courage to mutter an apology, the boy that had greeted Lucas loudly before, burst out in laughter, that the others minus Haechan quickly joined and even you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread over your face. “Now that I think about it, could I see yours as well?” You followed up and asked the dark haired boy with the infectious laugh, whose eyes immediately turned into saucers, his mouth wide open while the others couldn’t hold their laughs anymore, the purple haired boy joining in now. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, turning to the last man to order when they all had calmed down, using the napkins on the table to exaggeratedly wipe their tears. “What can I get you?” When the man with the dark hair that was elegantly swept back from his face turned towards you, you could swear that time stilled for a moment. His dark eyes that were accentuated with a bit of eyeshadow fixed yours and you were captivated, unable to look away. When your eyes dipped lower for a second you could see the black ink of a tattoo on the pale skin of his neck. He seemed familiar but you couldn’t quite tell why. Maybe you had seen him around on campus. But even then you should have been able to tell because that tattoo really wasn’t subtle at all. Briefly you were wondering if he could ever work a normal job with something like that. “I think I’ll just start with a beer as well,” he spoke softly, his voice a deep rumble, tearing you from your thoughts. After you had definitely stared at him for way too long than it would have been acceptable, you tore your gaze away from him, quickly scribbling down his order as well, repeating what you had written down for the others to confirm.

“Great, then I’ll be back in a bit with your drinks,” you smiled, after one of them had insisted that they should get a round of shots as well. “Can’t wait,” the tall one with the eagle tattoo on his chest said with a smirk on his lips, adding a cheesy wink that made you way more flustered than you would have liked. You quickly turned to hide your heated face, speed walking back over to the bar to put their order down. “Did you do it?” Lucas eagerly asked, bouncing up and down in excitement where he was helping to dry some glasses behind the counter. “Where’s my money?” You grinned, holding out your palm towards him. “Waaa, you really did it,” he grinned while bouncing up and down excitedly and you could barely hold in the urge to coo at him. He really did resemble an oversized puppy. You barely knew him for more than a couple of hours but he already had wiggled his way into your heart.

“Lucas, you didn’t tell us such a pretty girl would be serving us tonight,” a smooth male voice suddenly interrupted. When you turned around, the tall man from the 127 gang (Were they a gang? Did they do illegal stuff?) came walking up to the counter, leaning against the polished wood. “She’s new here, I didn’t know either,” Lucas pouted, already grabbing two shot glasses to put up on the bar top, putting the third one back down when you shook your head. You weren’t going to drink on your first day of work even though it seemed to be normal when you watched Lucas fill up the two glasses with a shady looking liquid from an unlabeled bottle he had grabbed from below the counter. Clinking their glasses together both men drowned their shots and while the tall biker didn’t even flinch, Lucas broke out into a whole body shiver, squeezing his eyes shut. “This stuff is really fucking disgusting,” he grimaced before refilling one of the shot glasses again, shoving it in front of the other man again, “I don’t know how Ten manages to make these concoctions.” Grinning, the man in question suddenly appeared and snatched the shot glass from below the other‘s fingers, drowning it himself. The blonde only grimaced a little. “I gotta say, I’ve made better stuff but also definitely worse. Lucas, we need a new keg of beer, can you please get one from the back, you’re so much stronger than I am,” Ten pouted, batting his lashes at Lucas and rubbing one of his hands over the other’s muscled arms. “Be nice to her,” Lucas told the man with the big tattoo on his chest and quickly disappeared to the back.

“I’m Johnny by the way,” he introduced himself, running a hand through his dark red hair. “So you’re the one who asked Lucas to embarrass your friends,” you remembered, your eyes getting caught on the intricate feathers of the eagle that spread its wings over Johnny’s broad chest. He smirked when your eyes came back up to meet his. “That would be me. You like the tattoo?” “It looks nice,” you mumbled, embarrassed at being caught staring, “It’s not something you see every day.” “I have some other ones that are pretty interesting as well,” he winked. “Su-Sure,” you stuttered, feeling your face heat up for what must have been the millionth time this night. “You’re cute,” Johnny laughed, the sound bright and inviting, his eyes turning into little crescents. “What did you come over for? Did I miss something on the order?” You tried to move the conversation in a direction you were a little (a lot) more comfortable with. “I just thought I could put my muscles to use and help you carry our drinks, we ordered quite a lot. Also I still owe you money for pulling that prank on Mark and Haechan. Even though their faces were priceless.” “How old are they anyways?” You asked him because you didn’t actually ended up looking at their IDs and Haechan especially did seem quite young. Digging out his worn out wallet, Johnny fished out a twenty dollar bill and teasingly held it up between two fingers. “They’re both of age, don’t worry, they just have baby faces.”

Snatching the bill from his hands, you quickly stuffed it in your pocket. “Thank you,” you grinned, relieved that it really had just been a prank between friends. “How old are you then?” You heard yourself asking after you had glanced at the tray that Ten had been filling up, but a couple of glasses were still missing. The weird cocktails seemed to take quite some time to make (Why there was celery swimming in what looked like tomato juice was a mystery to you). “Let’s pretend I’m in my early twenties,” Johnny grinned, his long fingers playing with the cherries that were stuck to the rim of one of the cocktail glasses. “Pretend?” You were confused. He couldn’t be much older than you were. “It’s improper for old men like me to flirt with such pretty young girls after all,” he winked and stuck out his tongue. “You… You can’t be much older than me though,” you argued, trying to fight your shyness back down. But your furiously beating heart was betraying you. Luckily he couldn’t notice that from his place where he was still leaning against the counter, the long line of his body perfectly shown off; his legs seemed almost endlessly long in the heavy leather pants. Chuckling, he raked his eyes across your body in a similar way you must have seconds ago but you felt like you were burning up wherever he was looking. Within the blink of an eye he was in your personal space, crowding you against the bar. “I’m 25,” he breathed, “How long do you have to work today, honey?”

Before you could even think of an answer, Johnny was shoved backwards by another man dressed completely in black. You recognized him as one of the men from Johnny’s gang, the one with the neck tattoo that had seemed weirdly familiar to you. “Leave her alone, Johnny,” he drawled, his voice barely more than a growl, “There’s someone waiting for you outside.” After a moment of heavy eye contact between the two males, Johnny scoffed and threw you another smile. “See you later, darling,” he chirped before turning towards the exit. “I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable, he doesn’t know when to stop sometimes,” the handsome man spoke, his voice still deep but way less threatening. “It’s… It’s fine you wouldn’t have needed to step in like that,” you reassured him, “But thank you.” “Yeah, I don’t know, something just didn’t sit right with me when he crowded you like that. Especially when you’re new to this type of environment, it’s pretty different from your usual job.” “My usual job?” You asked, clearly confused, “Do we know each other?” “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you had recognized me,” the man’s eyes widened in surprise and he averted his gaze as if he was embarrassed. “I’m Jaehyun. You know, the dude who keeps killing his plants.” Now it was your turn to be surprised. “No way. You look so different.” “It’s the clothes, right?” Jaehyun was rubbing the intricate lines of ink on his neck, looking up from between his dark lashes, smiling shyly and now that his dimples were almost showing, you did finally recognize him.

He was somewhat of a regular customer at the flower shop you worked in during the week to help out the old lady who owned the shop, always coming in to buy new plants when he had managed to kill yet another one. Now in the heavy leather jacket with more buckles and straps than you could count, he looked so different than when he came to the shop, his dark hair fluffy so his bangs almost covered his eyes and wearing soft sweaters and jeans. You also somehow had never noticed the big tattoo that stretched around his neck.

You could remember the first time he came into the shop very vividly. It was just after your break that you had spent lazing around in the backyard of the shop in front of the little greenhouse, letting the sun shine onto your face, just basking in the moment for a bit, letting all your worries about money or upcoming exams melt away. The job at the little flower job didn’t pay very well because people these days bought less and less flowers and the old lady couldn’t afford to pay more but you couldn’t just leave her alone in the shop. You really enjoyed her presence and learning about the language of flowers and how to bind pretty bouquets. When the distant chirping of the old cuckoo clock in the shop announced the end of your break, you got up from your place and put your apron back on, so you wouldn’t accidentally dirty your clothes. You came back into the shop just in time to see the big load of new plants that was being delivered. Two boys were unloading a colorful truck while continuously bickering in what seemed to be Chinese about where to put the plants in the shop and on the sidewalk outside so people could still walk past. “Urgh, this sucks why did we let us get talked into helping out?” The one with green hair sighed after they had put the last plant down, handing the old lady the papers she had to sign that the shipment had arrived at her place. She chuckled while handing the papers back. “I’ve made some iced tea, have a little break, boys,” she smiled her kind, wrinkled smile at them, taking them to the little kitchen area in the back to pour each one of them a glass even though the smaller of them had declined her offer at least ten times while his green haired friend gladly took her invitation.

Smiling you reassured the old lady that you would rearrange the flowers and plants so you could fit them all into the shop and the small greenhouse in the back. Maybe her grandson would come in later to help you move the heavier plants. He always came to the shop to laze around without having his parents scold him and his grandmother could never say no to his charming smile that made any girl his age swoon. He had recently dyed his hair a soft pinkish shade and had been hanging around the shop a lot more because his parents weren’t quite fond of his style choices. You gently stroked the leaves of the little pink rose bushes (that had kind of reminded you of the boy in the first place) that seemed rather thirsty to you, making a mental note to water them lots after you had arranged them.

While rearranging the cut roses so you could fit the new bushes in between them, the little bell on the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. “I’ll be right over,” you said, detangling yourself from the bush you had tried to fit in the display window. “No need to hurry,” the customer answered with a deep voice. It wasn’t often that men visited your store. And most times they just wanted a quick, expensive looking bouquet to either impress a girl or to apologize to their wife. Putting on your best customer friendly smile, you walked over to where the man was eyeing some cherry tree bonsais, his broad back turned towards you. “How can I help you?” When the man turned around, he immediately politely smiled at you, making your heart beat pick up just a little. He was definitely attractive, you couldn’t deny that. His dark hair was unstyled and hung into his eyes a bit, covering his strong eyebrows that every girl would be envious over. He seemed young, about your age. The pale blue hoodie and the fluffy hair made him seem very soft and gentle despite his strong jawline and prominent cheekbones. “Well I’ve moved into a new space and it looks a little empty, so I thought some plants might be the way to fix that,” he explained, fiddling with the hem of his slightly oversized hoodie. “That’s a great idea,” you beamed, trying to seem reassuring since he seemed rather nervous, “Do you have anything special in mind?” “No, I really don’t but those roses you just put in the display window look very pretty, it’s what made me come in,” he said, motioning to where you had been fighting with the roses earlier. “Roses need a lot of attention though,” you warned him, walking over to where you had tucked the little bushes into a corner. “I have a lot of time and like a good challenge,” he answered, a grin tugging at his lips, a set of dimples just barely showing, “You’re bleeding by the way.” He added, gently touching your hand. Startled, you jerked away, heat licking at your cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, “But you should bandage that or it might get infected if something gets into the wound.” “Don’t worry, it’s not even that deep,” you concluded after examining the small cut on the back of your hand where you had lost the battle with one of the thorns. You quickly shot the man another smile that you hoped was reassuring.

“So do any of those roses look good to you?” “The pale orange ones look nice.” You couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “What’s so funny?” He asked, his beautiful brows drawn together in confusion. “The color is called peach,” you still giggled, grabbing the pot to show him the petals in the sunlight. “Well it is orange though,” he shrugged. “Men and colors,” you sighed dramatically but couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips, “You like them and want to try caring for them?” “Yeah, let’s try it. Anything I should look out for?” While walking up to the cash register and ringing him up, you briefly explained how to take care of the roses the best.

“I hope they brighten up your room a bit,” you smiled when he had paid. “The visit sure brightened up my day,” he replied smiling widely, the set of cute dimples reappearing on his cheeks. Before you could overcome your sudden shyness to reply anything, he had already wished you a good day and disappeared from the shop.

After his visit, the man had crept back into your mind a couple of times. Every time you watered the little twin of the rose bush he had bought, it somehow reminded you of his sweet dimpled smile and his deep, soothing voice. You always scolded yourself when you noticed how you were spacing out, in fact watering the floor instead of the little rose bushes how you were supposed to. (You had been made fun of by a certain pink haired boy one too many times lately.) Your boss had just smiled knowingly and pressed a little bouquet with beautiful yellow Chrysanthemums in the middle, when you had closed up the shop, making your face heat up and furiously deny everything. But like always, the old lady knew you probably better than you knew yourself.

The second time the handsome stranger had visited the shop, he had been wearing a white turtle neck and a simple denim jacket, his hair pushed back with a dark blue hat. “Hello again,” he greeted you, gently smiling when he walked up to the counter where you were currently binding a bouquet with a couple of big purple hyacinths, “I’ll have a little look around. No need to hurry that.” Even though you tried to concentrate on arranging the flowers in the bouquet and picking smaller flowers that would look good with the big center piece, you kept glancing over to the man who was sniffing different flowers, quietly sneezing when he inhaled too deeply.

“Those are really pretty,” he said after he had not so subtly watched you work for a while from his place between the brightly colored geraniums while walking up to the counter. “The man who commissioned them paid a lot of money for them to look pretty,” you smiled, gently tucking smaller white flowers all around the big purple ones in the middle. “Does it mean anything? I’ve never seen this kind of flower,” he asked, seeming genuinely interested. “You’re interested in the language of flowers?” You asked, securely tying the bouquet together, placing them in a vase for the time being. “What languages would flowers speak?” The man asked, sounding genuinely confused. For a moment you could just stare at him, his dark brown eyes widened and his mouth slightly ajar, before you burst out in a fit of giggles. “Hey! What’s so funny?” He asked, trying to sound offended but he couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his lips. “They don’t speak any language, silly. The different types of flowers mean different things. I don’t know all of it but the owner of the shop has been teaching me some of it,” you explained to him. “Ooh, that makes a lot more sense,” he nodded, “What do those mean then?” “They’re hyacinths. The man told me he needed to apologize to his girlfriend. The purple ones stand for sorrow. I doubt she will notice though.” “Probably not,” he chuckled. “What did the rose mean I bought last time? The peach one?” “I’m not quite sure, I’ll ask my boss when she’s back. What brings you back here?” “Well,” he scratched the back of his head and averted his eyes, “I need a new plant, the rose was kind of a lot more work than I thought it was.”

“Oh no.” You felt genuinely sad. You kind of had expected it not to go well but this was honestly a lot faster than you could have imagined. “I should have listened to you when you told me that they were a lot, I’m sorry,” he apologized, “But I really want to try to keep a plant alive. She looked really good for the time she was alive.” “She?” “Well I gave her a name.” You giggled again. “That’s really cute.” “Not as cute as you though.” It was suddenly so silent in the shop, the only noise the soft buzzing sound coming from the air-conditioning. You stared into the man’s eyes, expecting a his face to heat up in a similar fashion yours was, to see a blush creep up his face or his ears, but his face stayed perfectly pale, not a single blotch of color visible. But he had to be embarrassed as well if the way he was chewing on his lips was any sign. “I’m sorry, that just slipped,” he mumbled. “I… Shouldn’t you at least tell me your name before you start complimenting me like that?” You stuttered when you found your voice again. “Jaehyun,” he supplied, still awkwardly shuffling around, “It’s Jaehyun.” “Alright Jaehyun, let’s find you a new plant that’s not as easy to kill.

From that day onward Jaehyun came to the shop somewhat regularly, either announcing the death of yet another plant or telling you how they were on the brink of death and he didn’t know how it happened or what to do to save them. You were really close to either tell him to stick to bouquets or cacti but when you were being honest, you enjoyed his little visits. He’d stay longer and longer every time, telling you little stories about how he suspected that his roommates were secretly killing all the plants. In turn you told him about your boring life between your classes and your job. And sometimes you even taught him about the language of flowers while he was watching you put together a bouquet for yet another desperate boyfriend.

One visit in particular had stuck with you for some reason. Your whole day had just been bad: One of your professors had caught you slacking off in class and called you out in front of everyone, then at lunch a guy had run into you, making you drop half your food on the floor and then it had started to rain on your way to work. And if that wasn’t enough, the old lady hadn’t been feeling well because of the sudden change in weather and you had sent her off into her apartment that was above the shop, so she could rest. So now you were just alone in the shop, watching the people outside hurry past the shop with their umbrellas. When it was raining even less people were coming into the shop because you couldn’t put any plants outside that often lured people in. Sighing, you continued with the inventory that you had started out of boredom. Of course you also hadn’t brought any useful books, so you could have studied a little.

You must have been deep in thought, moping about how much this day sucked, that you didn’t hear the little bell on the door ringing. So when someone touched your arm to get your attention, you of course were startled and let out a small scream before you lost your balance on the stepladder that you had used to count the spare pots on a higher shelf. And if that wasn’t enough, you also pushed one of said pots down as well. But before you could even brace yourself for the fall, a strong arm had wrapped around you, saving you from crashing down onto the floor and possibly cracking your head open. When you opened your eyes, that you had screwed shut, you saw straight into Jaehyun’s deep brown eyes that were full of concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he spoke softly and you could feel how his voice rumbled in his chest from how close he was holding you to his body. “It’s alright, it’s my fault anyways. I wasn’t paying attention,” you sighed, slowly realizing in what kind of situation you and Jaehyun were in right now. His face was so close to yours that you could almost count every single one of his long, dark eyelashes. You could even see the faintest little blush spreading over his cheeks and your own face immediately felt hot as well.

Jaehyun just smiled and released you from his grip, gently setting the pot he somehow had managed to catch with his other hand back onto the shelf. He really must have incredible reflexes and obviously the most charming smile you had ever seen. “Don’t blame yourself, you don’t look too good today,” he spoke softly. “Wow thanks,” you sarcastically said, sighing theatrically while running your hands through your hair in an attempt to smooth it out, but probably messing it up further than it already was. “Hard day?” You snorted. Hard was an understatement. It sucked. But a little voice in the back of your head whispered that now that Jaehyun had come to visit you in the shop, it would get better. “You look like you could use a hug,” he smiled and opened his arms invitingly.

Before you could even think twice about it, you wound your arms around his middle and squeezed him tightly, burying your face in the soft fabric of his cardigan that he wore over one of his many turtlenecks. Chuckling, he grabbed the fabric and stretched it around you, so you were basically wrapped up in it against his chest, before wrapping you up in his strong arms. You were drowning in his by now familiar scent and the way his chest steadily rose and fell with his breath made all stress from your body slowly dissolve. “If you keep holding me like this I will cry,” you mumbled, trying to untangle yourself from him. “I don’t mind, you know? Sometimes you just have to cry to let all the stress out,” he assured you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Don’t say that, I will ugly cry in your shirt,” you hiccupped, “I barely know you.” “Oh I think you know me a lot better than a lot of people,” he smiled, “It’s an old shirt anyways.” “Liar, I’ve never seen you wear this before.” “You’re keeping track?” He chuckled. “That’s not what I meant by that,” you mumbled, feeling shy suddenly because how could you not keep track when he just effortlessly looked infuriatingly good every time he walked into the shop.

“You feeling better now?” Jaehyun gently asked after you two had fallen silent, just basking in each other’s presence. He gently tilted your head back from where you had buried it in his neck, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” you breathed, captivated by him. You had never noticed the tiny mole he had on one of his cheeks but you found it really endearing. “Good,” he smiled, “I brought you coffee from the shop next door.” He motioned to the two cups he had placed on the counter next to the cash register. “You have a heart of gold Jaehyun,” you confessed, a smile slowly spreading on your lips and your heartbeat picking up. You kept the thought that he probably would also make the perfect boyfriend, to yourself. Not that it would matter, you were sure he didn’t see you like that. He just played it off, laughing awkwardly like he always did when he was embarrassed. (Coming to think of it, you really seemed to know him better than you had initially thought.) “Let’s drink it before it gets cold and you can tell me more about your day,” he offered and slowly loosened his arms around you. “Can you tell me about yours instead?” You asked with a small voice. “I’d rather forget all of this stupid day before you walked in here.” “Of course, darling,” he breathed. Your heart skipped a beat before doubling its pace when the pet name rolled of his tongue just like that. Maybe there was just the slightest little chance, he might consider you more than just the friend that worked in the flower shop that he had to visit to get advice on how to not kill his plants. Smiling you loosened your grip on him as well and you two sat down on the counter, dangling your legs and sipping the slightly cold coffee while you listened to Jaehyun ramble about the mess that were his flatmates. Until this day you hadn’t figured out how many people he actually lived with but you couldn’t help but smile at the little stories he told you. And even when he stopped talking, you just enjoyed the silence while watching the people outside. And maybe it was just your imagination but the umbrellas outside seemed just a little brighter with your head resting on Jaehyun’s broad shoulder.

“I’ve never noticed your whole tattoo thing that’s going on,” you said, motioning around your own neck when you came back from your fond memories of Jaehyun. “Yeah, I try to not let it show as much usually,” he replied, almost nervously playing with the collar of his leather jacket. “Did it hurt a lot when you got it?” “Yeah, the skin is kind of tender around your neck,” he answered, his gaze not meeting your eyes but fixating a point right behind you. “You get that question a lot don’t you?” you gently asked, fingers itching to reach out to touch him. “Yeah, it’s all people talk about when they see it,” he shrugged, “I’m used to it by now.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “It’s fine,” Jaehyun reassured you, gently grazing his fingers over your exposed forearm, making goose bumps break out over your skin. “Yes, it did hurt. No I don’t regret it. Yes I probably can’t work a normal job if I’m not wearing a turtleneck. No, I didn’t get it in prison. It was done in a perfectly sanitary tattoo shop by a professional artist. No, I’m not a criminal”, he quickly addressed every typical question he apparently got about the tattoo in a single breath, a smile spreading on his lips, making his dimples appear and your heart beat faster.

“Glad to know I haven’t been talking to a criminal over the past few weeks even though you did kill an unholy amount of plants,” you giggled, checking again if the order was ready only to find Ten engrossed in a conversation with a group of young men that were sitting at the bar, his work forgotten. “Well I guess I am guilty of that,” Jaehyun pouted and it was weirdly endearing seeing him act playful like that with his dark and intimidating clothing. “So you’re not a criminal but a biker?” “Is that what you think our group is?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “That’s what everyone told me at least. And you do look the part.” “A couple of us do have bikes, but I don’t think that justifies the title. We’re just a,” he bit his tongue for a bit, “We’re just friends. Friends who like to dress in a lot of leather and black clothing.”

It seemed to be a somewhat touchy subject so you decided to not push any further. “You don’t need to explain it to me,” you smiled reassuringly, quickly squeezing his cold hand. “Jaehyun, stop flirting with my best waitress,” Kun teased, adding the little shot glasses to the second tray that completed the order. “I wasn’t flirting, I-“ but Jaehyun didn’t complete his apology when Kun shot him a knowing look and your face heated up on his behalf because Jaehyun didn’t blush like ever. “Stop making excuses and help her carry all this back to the table,” the barman grinned, returning to his work by pulling Ten back by the hairs on his neck from where he was still talking to the handsome customers sitting at the bar. “I would appreciate some help, that’s what Johnny came over for as well,” you tried to push past the awkwardness. “Like hell he was,” Jaehyun grumbled, grabbing the one of the trays maybe a tad too forceful than he needed to, the drinks almost spilling over. “Don’t be angry with him, he was being nice,” you consoled him, gently petting his leather clad arm (wasn’t he warm in that thick jacket?). “I saw just how nice he was being,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders, “He’s such a goddamn flirt.” “Nothing happened Jaehyun,” you tried one last time, looking into his dark eyes, getting lost in the seemingly bottomless obsidian.

Only the thud of the heavy entrance door made you snap out of it and you quickly turned to grab the second tray. You hadn’t even noticed how you had gravitated towards Jaehyun, it was like his eyes had hypnotized you. “Need another pair of helping hands?” A familiar voice asked and Johnny strode over towards you two again, now with an energetic bounce in his step, his red lips curved into a smile. “We’ve got it,” Jaehyun answered, scrunching his nose as if he had smelled something bad before taking a deep breath. “Don’t wait too long, Jaehyun,” the taller said, his tone suddenly stern and his brows furrowed. “I can handle it, Johnny,” Jaehyun gritted out, shoving past the taller man to make his way over to the table where their friends were still waiting for their drinks. Sighing, you followed him back to the table. It was weird how different he was behaving with his friends around. You had never expected to meet him in any place outside of your job at the flower shop and much less in a place like this. The soft man who liked to wear denim jackets seemed to be buried beneath the heavy leather jacket.

“Here’s your drinks,” you smiled when you put the tray down to distribute the drinks. “You’re not drinking with us?” A blonde man with a scratch in his eyebrow asked when everyone had picked up their shot glasses. “It’s my first day, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you politely declined his offer. “I’m sure Ten and Kun won’t mind,” he grinned, lifting up his own glass to hand it over to you. “She said no, didn’t you hear, Yuta?” Jaehyun growled and shot his friend a dark look. Unfazed by his behavior, the blonde - Yuta - shrugged his shoulders before drowning his shot himself, not grimacing in the slightest even though the liquid had a questionable amount of alcohol in it, judging by the numbers that had been printed on the label. “But I’m sure we can treat you to something else,” he spoke, before shifting in his seat so his poorly buttoned sleeveless shirt fell open even further, revealing smooth skin that stretched over lean muscles and a promise of something metal hidden beneath. “I-“, you stuttered. What were you supposed to reply to something like that? “You’re shameless,” one of his dark haired friends chuckled, a silver chain glistening in the light when he shook his head. “It’s called confidence,” Yuta defeated himself. “Still shameless,” another one agreed, a grin on his face. “He hasn’t had a good lay in a while, don’t mind him,” Taeyong cut in, shooting you a reassuring smile. “Certainly not because I didn’t had any offers, I’m just picky,” Yuta tried to defend himself, looking scandalized. You just giggled when the other’s started picking on him. You noticed that Jaehyun didn’t join in but his posture was more relaxed than it had been before. You really wanted to thank him for defending your choice to not drink but now didn’t seem appropriate. Silently you collected the now empty shot glasses and picked the trays back up. “I’ll be back to check in with you later then,” you smiled before walking back to the counter after checking in with a couple of other tables.

The rest of the night went down in a blur safe for the one occasion where the slender Ten indeed threw out one of the customers that couldn’t hold his liquor anymore and had fallen when he had tried to walk over to the bar to order more because Lucas had already refused to bring him any more drinks. The times when you had checked in on the 127 table, Yuta had still flirted with you only to be either shot down by Jaehyun or Taeyong. You had also noticed that over the course of the night one or two of them would always leave the bar for a couple of minutes before coming back inside with a new energy and a faint blush on their cheeks. You didn’t know what they did out there but you really hoped they didn’t do drugs or anything like that. They didn’t seem as intoxicated as the other customers no matter how much they ordered. If anything Mark was getting giggly after he had come back inside but that was pretty much everything. They all must have incredible tolerance for alcohol.

When the night died down and more and more customers were leaving, Kun waved you over to tell you that you had been a great help and he would be more than happy to see you again tomorrow for your next shift. You had beamed at him and promised to do your best. “I’m sure you will. Thank you for today, I think Lucas and I can handle the remaining customers,” he told you. “What’s with Ten?” You asked. You hadn’t seen him in a while. Kun just sighed and motioned to the 127 table where Ten comfortably sat on Johnny’s lap, the taller carding through the blonde’s hair that he had freed from the little ponytail. “Are they a thing?” You were confused. Johnny hadn’t been subtle about his flirting earlier. “No one really knows,” Kun groaned, suddenly seeming very irritated, “It’s been happening more lately but last week he went home with Taeyong as far as I remember.” “Oh…” “Don’t think about it too much. I want to say that he knows what he’s doing but that would mean that he’s actually using his brain.” Somehow you thought that he sounded sad. “Just tell Ten that you like him, Kun,” Lucas groaned, running a hand through his by now messy platinum hair. “I don’t like him,” the elder gritted out, violently cleaning glasses and slamming them onto a rack to dry. “Sure and I’ve never thought about making out with any of your roommates,” Lucas teased him. “You have what?” “Never mind I said that,” Lucas mumbled, his ears turning red, before he made a beeline to one of his tables.

You chuckled quietly. “I think he’s fond of you as well,” you softly spoke after Kun had thrown another longing look at Ten who was busy admiring the eagle tattoo on Johnny’s chest. “You don’t need to console me, but I appreciate it,” he smiled but it didn’t quiet reach his eyes, “I came to accept him how he is.” “You should at least try to shoot you shout though, don’t you think?” You tried again, stepping closer to the barman to help him clean the last glasses. He sighed deeply. “I’ve known Ten for too long now, I know he won’t suddenly become monogamous just because I tell him that I might not dislike him as much as I sometimes say.” “You can never know for sure, people do crazy stuff because of love,” a deep voice joined the conversation and Jaehyun sat down on the barstool in front of Kun and you, throwing you a quick smile. “He’s right,” you smiled, briefly squeezing Kun’s hand. “If I say that I’ll think about it, will you leave it alone for now?” You eagerly nodded, looking up at Jaehyun to see if he was doing the same. Instead a smirk played on his lips. “If you give me my drinks for free, I’ll even tell Johnny to not take Ten home tonight,” he grinned, holding up his card between two fingers. “You’re paying for everyone?” Kun just gritted out, snatching the card from the other’s fingers. Jaehyun’s grin widened before he nodded. “Isn’t that going to be a lot of money?” You asked worriedly. You had never asked but assumed Jaehyun must be a student like you, so paying the whole bill for nine men (well eight if Kun was giving Jaehyun his own drinks for free) was a lot. “I lost at rock paper scissors,” he shrugged, “Are you done with your shift?”

“She is,” Kun cut in, smacking the credit card back onto the bartop, “Tell Johnny to send him home, I’m not feeding his cats again because they’re screaming for food.” “Sure. That’s the only reason,” Jaehyun joked, pocketing his card with a grin. Kun didn’t answer, instead leaving you two alone to wipe some empty tables. “Are you going home alone?” “It’s not far from here,” you reassured the dark haired man. “I’ll walk you. You shouldn’t go alone this late.” “Only if it’s not a bother for you…” “Keeping you safe is never a bother for me,” he smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you barely suppressed a shiver from how cold his hands were against your heated face. “I’ll tell the other’s not to wait for me and will wait outside for you,” he softly spoke before turning to walk out the door where his friends apparently had already left.

You quickly gathered your things and sorted out your tips from the rest of the money, putting everything back into the place that Lucas had shown you before disappearing into the staff room to stuff the money into your designated tip jar, so Lucas and you could share your tips with Ten and Kun. While you were quickly trying to fix your hair in the small mirror a very grumpy looking Ten joined you, groaning loudly. You had to suppress your smile. Jaehyun really had convinced Johnny to not take Ten home. “Men are trash, honey,” the blonde suddenly spoke, “Don’t fall for any of them.” “Did you get dumped?” You tried to act like you didn’t exactly knew what must have happened. “Can’t get dumped if you aren’t dating,” Ten chirped, smoothing out a wrinkle in his silky blouse, “But something similar.” “I’m sorry.” “No need to be darling, I’ll just annoy Kun a little more, maybe he’ll actually pop a vein these days,” he giggled mischievously. “Be nice to him, he seems like an actual sweetheart,” you said while slipping on your jacket and picking up your bag. “He is, darling. But where’s the fun in that?” Ten held the door open for you and followed you back to the main room. “Be safe on your way home.” “Jaehyun is waiting outside for me,” you admitted, suddenly feeling shy under Ten’s intense gaze. “So that’s why Johnny wouldn’t take me with him,” he grinned. “No, no that’s not it. He just offered to walk me home,” you stuttered to explain yourself. It wasn’t like what Ten thought it was, right? Oh god. Not that Jaehyun was expecting anything now. He just had asked to walk you home though. Was it a code word for something you didn’t know? “I’m sure he only has the most noble motives,” the barkeeper snickered, “Go, don’t let prince charming wait for too long.” With that he waved you off, walking over to where Kun was wiping a table to drape his body over the other’s back, probably complaining about being dumped. But Kun didn’t seem to mind a whole lot, judging by the smile that tugged on the corners of his lips.

After you had barely escaped Xuxi’s suffocating goodbye hug, you stepped outside into the cold night, taking a deep breath. It was quiet for a Friday night but that might have just been the time. Worried you looked around when you couldn’t see Jaehyun’s broad figure anywhere. Did he ditch you? That didn’t seem like him. Curious you looked into the little ally beside the bar where the dumpsters were. At first you couldn’t make out anything in the dark but when your eyes had adjusted, you could make out a figure, no two, in the dark. One of them was wearing a familiar leather jacket with way too many buckles and straps to be convenient. The man was clinging to the second, unmoving figure and the whole scene made Goosebumps break out all over your body.

“J-Jaehyun?” you stuttered, your bag falling from your shoulder, landing on the concrete with a soft thud. As if he was electrocuted, the man with the dark clothes shoved the limp body he was holding onto just a second ago away from him, but no sound left the other man’s lips, nor did his facial expression change in any way. “I can explain this,” Jaehyun said, his lips a deep red and smeared with what seemed to be blood and eyes wide, tinted a bright crimson. You felt a shiver run down your spine, the scream that had been stuck in your throat threatening to spill now. But before it could rip free, a palm was pressed over your lips and your body collided with Jaehyun’s solid frame. “Please don’t scream,” he whispered in your ear which made all the hairs on your neck stand up. What was happening? Why was there blood on Jaehyun? Has his eyes changed color? How did he get across to you within the blink of an eye? What was with the other person? In a panic, your eyes scanned the alleyway and another muffled scream ripped from your throat when you saw that the man was still unmoving even though he was bleeding from a wound in his neck. “Please,” Jaehyun begged, his voice sounding strained, “Let me explain this, don’t hate me.” Being pressed so close to him, you couldn’t help but notice that his chest wasn’t moving in the slightest like it should if he was breathing. What was happening? Panic began to rise inside you and you felt like you were suffocating, your lungs not getting enough oxygen with Jaehyun’s palm pressed over your mouth. Panicking, you grabbed his wrist and let your nails dig into his skin, but the skin didn’t break. Desperate, you tried to get more air into your lungs, meeting his eyes in a silent plea. “Please don’t scream,” Jaehyun repeated firmly before he slowly freed your mouth, but kept holding you close.

You heaved a couple of heavy breaths, feeling the panic slowly disappear but your heart kept beating furiously, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you dizzy. “Let me take care of this and I’ll explain everything, I promise,” Jaehyun spoke once your breathing had somewhat evened out. “I’ll release you now, don’t run away.” Your voice was still lost somewhere, so you just nodded. After confirming with a nod himself, he slowly uncurled from you and walked over to the other man who was still in a daze, staring straight ahead. “You will walk home now and not remember anything that happened from the moment you saw me approach you,” Jaehyun spoke to him, looking into his eyes intensely and if your own eyes weren’t playing a trick on you, Jaehyun’s eyes had turned a bright crimson color. He leaned into the other man again where his neck was still bleeding and when the man turned to leave and walk away, the area was clean. Instead Jaehyun’s lips were smeared with blood that he quickly wiped into his shirt. “What the fuck, Jaehyun?” You whispered, your voice sounding raw as if you hadn’t spoken in hours.

“I can explain this,” he repeated again, turning his palms towards you in surrender when he walked back over. “How can you explain this? You- That- That man was straight up hypnotized and behaved like an actual puppet. And that blood. This is crazy. I’m dreaming. That’s it right? Or someone must have slipped me something in the bar and I’m tripping right now. Because this looks an awful lot like you just sucked that guy’s blood like you’re a vampire and that’s crazy. Vampires aren’t real. And I’ve seen you walk around in the middle of the day. But then again, your hands are always cold and I couldn’t even scratch you with my nails and you have mad reflexes,” you started to spiral, the words just falling from your lips. “Hey, take a breath. A deep breath, here,” Jaehyun softly spoke, gently taking your hands and pressing the palms on his chest, taking a deep breath himself. Even though you tried to breathe with him to calm down, you couldn’t help but notice that his fingers weren’t as cold as they had been before and that you couldn’t feel his heartbeat despite the fact that your palm was sitting right over his heart, just separated by his thin black shirt from the skin. “You… You don’t have a heartbeat,” you whispered, your eyes searching his that were a perfectly normal deep brown shade now while you pressed your palms down on his chest harder. “I don’t,” he spoke carefully, scanning your features for any changes, “I haven’t had one for a while.” “You aren’t breathing right now.” “I don’t need to. I keep forgetting.” “You… You’re forgetting to breathe?” “I usually do when I’m around humans but sometimes I forget.” “You say that as if you’re not…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, it was too absurd. “As if I’m not human myself? I’m not. Not anymore.” “Then what are you?” “You’ve said it before, I’m a vampire,” he confessed.

“A vampire…” You repeated dumbfounded. It made sense, everything was adding up but this couldn’t be the explanation. Vampires were just made up. “And the others are too, they’re my coven. That’s why I didn’t want Johnny to talk to you.” “Would he have..?” Your eyes widened and one of your hands flew to your neck, covering where your pulse was fluttering beneath the skin. “I’m not going to hurt you, I could never,” Jaehyun whispered when he saw the fear in your eyes, gently cupping your face as if to prove his point. “I like you way too much to hurt you. And I won’t let anyone of the others even lay a finger on you.” Your eyes immediately flew to his lips that were still stained red when he leaned in even closer so you would be able to feel his breath mingling with yours if he was breathing. “I really want to kiss you right now, is that stupid?” The vampire whispered. “Don’t hurt me,” you whispered back, letting your eyes fall shut. “I could never,” he breathed before brushing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss that send sparks through your whole body. When Jaehyun felt you relax against him, your fingers uncurling from his shirt, he kissed you again, firmer this time, wrapping his arms tight around you as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

When you felt your head start to get light, you gently tapped his strong chest and he immediately retreated, looking at you with a worried expression. “One of us still needs to breathe,” you giggled breathless. “I’m sorry,” he smiled, carding his fingers through your hair, just watching you breathe for a moment, losing himself in your eyes.

“I have another secret to tell you,” Jaehyun broke the silence, his dimpled smile lighting up his face. “I don’t think you can shock me anymore,” you smiled back. “I didn’t actually kill any of the plants I bought. I just needed to have a reason to keep seeing you. Our house looks like a jungle.” You couldn’t stop giggling, leaning into his (not moving) chest that rumbled with his low chuckle. “You’re cute,” you smiled, snaking your arms around his waist below his jacket, somehow not even missing the warmth that bodies usually gave off. “Shut up,” he chuckled, wrapping you up in a tight hug. “You want to know something else?” You whispered into his chest after a while. The vampire just hummed, gently swaying you. “I looked up what the rose meant that you bought when you first came into the shop… You wanna know what it stands for?” Jaehyun hummed again. “It stands for immortality.” This time it was Jaehyun who was laughing, holding your body tighter to steady himself.

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun fic #nct scenarious #nct imagines #nct fluff

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silverwhiteraven · 3 years

Text

Wings of Broken White - Ch. 2

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 3 ]

[ Summary: It’s Origins all over again, but jsut a little different. ]

Ever since his mother disappeared, Adrien’s favorite movie has been Spirited Away. As the years passed, he related to it more and more.

A young child, who’s parent’s pay her no mind despite her warnings. She gets separated from them, wanting to do nothing more than cry for the unfairness of it all. Then she gets dragged into signing a contract, willing to work under its terms because it would allow her to bid her time and someday regain her family.

All of that he felt in his heart, but it wasn’t all.

A strange and dark looking creature is constantly asking her to let it inside, and each time she has to keep denying it. Letting it in would be, is, a mistake, she had to get him out as soon as possible and keep him far, far away.

It was a little unclear to Adrien why he related to this part of the movie as more of a relevant metaphor than a personal experience. But it was still there. He could never quite grasp why, but whatever his own dark, faceless creature was, he knew he couldn't let it in.

And of course, there was one other part to Spirited Away that he wished to understand.

The girl lost her name, her memories, all of who she was, as part of a contract to get her parents back. Even her spirit friend had lost his name, too, and he had done it to stay alive. Those parts felt raw and real to Adrien, and it always made his cry.

Though he was always a bit confused why he felt lost like they were. Had he forgotten something? He knew his name though, it was Adrien. And he still belongs to himself, after all, his Father lets him set his terms for when he models so he’s never uncomfortable. Had he forgotten something else, then?

From what he could recall, there were very few photos of Adrien from before he was seven. All up-close shots taken from a polaroid in black-and-white film, and all stuffed away in a little photo album in his Father’s personal library. Nothing was out of place, he was certain of it.

So Adrien dismissed it, chalking up his tears to nothing more than build up emotions from the earlier parts of the movie.

Spirited Away wasn’t the only Studio Ghibli movie he enjoyed, though.

He had seen every single one, really, and he loved them all.

But when Chloé had watched Whisper of the Heart with him one time, she used it as a way to egg him into going to public school with her.

“But Chlo, you’re homeschooled too, aren't you?” He was a bit confused.

“Only for now!” She huffed in annoyance. “But being homeschooled by tutors means I can't be in classes with you, Adrien, so as soon as I demand that Daddy enroll me to a school so that I can be with you more often, he will see reason! Just watch!”

And he did. She succeeded, of course, though it took her agreeing to wait until she was eligible for secondary school so they could skip the hassle of enrolling her in primary school first. Unfortunately, she had underestimated just how stubbornly protective Gabriel Agreste would be of his son.

For three years, Chloé went to Collège Françoise Dupont on her own. For three years, Adrien dreamed of getting out of the house and making friends on his own. For three years, Chloe helped build Adrien’s courage to push against his protective bubble and pop it using all his might. And, Lucky for him, three years was all it took.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Marinette was running late for school, just like she has every day since she started Collège. It wasn’t her fault that mornings didn’t give her very much time to eat, shower, put on her wing-binders carefully and perfectly, get dressed, maybe help out in the Bakery a little bit, and then finally grab her bag and dash off to make it on time for classes. Honestly, who’s idea was it to make the day start so early? Not her’s, that's for sure!

It really didn't help that an elder had been crossing the street while a car with a distracted driver drove toward the intersection too quickly. Marinette had rescued the elder, sure, but her box of goodies had suffered, and so did her wings. Luckily, it wasn't too bad, she had just awkwardly landed on her butt, subsequently squashing some of her primaries and secondaries where they had been concealed under her dress. Oh well, it wasn’t like she flew very often anymore anyways, right? Right!

Her first day of school was…normal, really, as normal as it has been for the past four years, anyways. This year, she had all three of her primary school friends, Nino, Alix, and Kim, in her class, and that made her rather glad. She was even happier to see that the rest of the students she had also met before over the previous three school years. She was surrounded by friends, so she knew this year would at least be better than before. Even Alya, who had transferred to their school the previous year, would be joining her classes again.

There was, of course, that one sore thumb that stuck out.

Chloé Bourgeois, for the fourth time in a row, had made a big deal of sitting in a particular spot so that a student no one knew could sit in front of her. For the fourth time in a row, Chloé watched the door instead of the teacher. And, again, for the fourth time in a row as classes passed then lunch came and ended, Chloé looked rejected and sad coming back into the classroom, before taking her usual spot back in the front row with Sabrina.

For the fourth year in a row, it looked like Chloé’s one friend outside of school wasn't going to be showing up.

Only, it seemed this year would turn out just a little different.

The mystery boy did, in fact, show up this year. He came in late, smiling like he had just escaped from prison for some reason. Chloé had jumped from her seat like a coiled spring and hugged him like he had just come back from a war when she thought he had died. Marinette had no clue why she was comparing these two’s interactions to such horrific things, but it seemed to convey just how high their emotions were running.

After that, their teacher had taken the chance to rearrange the class seating, to better accommodate the students.

Rose Lavillant with her pretty wings of a Roseate Spoonbill, and Juleka Couffaine with the purple and grey wings of a Violet-Backed Starling, were the inseparable couple, now seated in the right hand side’s back row. To their left across the aisle was Nathaniel Kurtzberg, his large red and black Cardinal wings keeping the sky boy hidden. He would have been put in the front due to his shyness, but his wings had a tendency to block other’s views.

In the next row forward, there was Max Kanté, his wings that of a pure white Flamingo. Lê Chiến Kim sat beside him. Kim was one of the wingless students, but that never got him down. Some students would even say that if he did have wings, they would be on his feet like Hermes purely because of how fast on his feet he could be. Ivan Bruel sat at the next desk in front of Nathaniel, also on his own. His Raven wings were hidden under his oversized clothes, making him rather large and intimidating in looks. He wasn’t trying to look scary, really, he was just embarrassed at how shiny his large wings were and hid them.

Third row from the top, right behind the front row, sat Alix Kubdel, dark green and pink iridescent Hummingbird wings tucked smoothly against her back. Kim was staring at the back of her head like he could already picture himself beating her in a race. Mylène Haprèle was at Alix’s side, another wingless student. She didn’t mind, really, if anything, it made her time with Ivan feel all the more special, since they could share their experiences with each other without being embarrassed. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Alya Césaire were at the other desk. Alya had the prettiest Barn Owl wings, the color reminding many of roasted marshmallows. Her wings also made her a person to fear during camping, because as soon as the scary campfire stories were out, she would sneak off, then ambush the group on silent wings at the scariest possible moment. Marinette, on the other hand, still hid her wings under loose shirts and skirts, so she was seated near the front of the room.

And finally, on the right hand side of the very front row of desks, sat Chloé Bourgeois with her regal Swan wings, and Sabrina Raincomprix, Chloé’s wingless desk companion and only friend inside of school. And now, at the other desk opposite the two girls and in front of the classroom’s door, the last two students were seated. Nino Lahiffe, another Hummingbird with blue and green feathers, sat very chill in the front row, his wings tucked away just like Alix’s to keep anyone from behind him from having trouble seeing. And at his side was the new student.

Adrien Agreste was the last of the wingless students in the class. But even without wings, he was eye-catching. His hair was white, more pure in color than even Max’s or Chloé’s wings. It was only accentuated by his light, almost pale skin. And his eyes, blue as could be, looking like ice drifting on an open sea. He wasn’t completely unique, of course, as there were plenty of pale or even albino people in the world. But still, he was different and new to them, and even more curiously, he was friends with Chloé, of all people. She even treated him well, and she didn’t do that for many.

After the excitement of seat changing and a new student, everyone settled down for the rest of their first day of school. Adrien seemed rather excited to be there, even jumping out of his seat when called on, blushing furiously at the giggles but still smiling at his own amusement.

Sadly, the day was interrupted. By magic and supervillains, of all things.

No need to get into the details, but here is what Marinette remembered when she finally got home after an exhausting day.

First, a very large, blue gorilla came crashing into the school, obviously looking for someone.

Second, Marinette found a pair of earrings in her room, a magical creature with them.

Third, she became Ladybug, and, for the first time in a while, flew in the skies on new wings of pitch black.

Fourth, she was really out of practice on flying, especially with the new set of feathers, and ended up falling into another person.

Fifth, that new person was her partner in heroics, apparently, calling himself Chat Blanc.

Sixth, he too, had wings, a brilliant, almost iridescent white, broken by scattering specks of crystal blue. But for some reason, he hadn't been flying when she fell, or any time after that.

But, seventh and most important of all, he had been encouraging to her, helping her when she faltered and felt fear. She was utterly embarrassed over it, but also very, utterly certain that she really, really liked him for it.

Adrien, on the other hand, remembered a few less things, but was just as excited about them.

First, he got to go to school!!! He had to run away from home to do it, yes, but it was worth the cost.

Second, when a monster came attacking his school, looking for someone (later revealed to be Adrien himself when the monster was reverted back into his bodyguard), Adrien had been saved. Marinette, his new classmate, had guided him through and out of the school building to help him escape the chaos happening in the unfamiliar environment. It was so cool.

Third, he had more freedom now than ever before. With the help of a silver ring and a wary little cat creature named Plagg, he could become Chat Blanc. And that freedom came with wings. Those wings made him feel almost whole for some reason. Like one of the missing pieces of himself, that he only thought about when watching Spirited Away, was suddenly back where it belonged.

Fifth of all, after the fighting was over, after his first day in public school was over, he got to see Marinette again. As he waited for his Father’s intimidating Assistant to come and get him, as he waited under the entrance awning as rain poured from the sky, Marinette had come up to his side.

“I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier, but welcome to our class, Adrien,” she had smiled genuinely at him. “I wasn’t sure what to think at first, you being a friend of Chloé, but you seem to make her, well, nicer, I guess. So, I hope I get a chance to be your friend, too.”

Then, she handed him her white dotted pink umbrella and dashed off into the rain before he could say anything back. It reminded him of another Ghibli movie, actually; in My Neighbor Totoro, when the sisters had been waiting in the rain for their bus, they had lent their only umbrella to the strange but friendly Totoro.

Adrien was glad Marinette hadn't seen him blushing as she left, or heard his embarrassing squawk as the umbrella had suddenly snapped down around his head and shoulders.

But after all that, the day was made bright by the fact that his Father was going to let him continue going to school. Everything was really looking up. He couldn't wait for the rest of his life to come.

#marichatmay2021 #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat blanc #ml wing au #wing-binding #willowbendt

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

“Now I'm seeing clearly how I still need you near me -- I still love you so... There's something between us that won't ever leave us -- There's no letting go... We had a ‘once in a lifetime,’ But I just didn't know it 'til my life fell apart...”

~“If Ever You’re In My Arms Again,” by Peabo Bryson

x~x~x~x

His entire school career and beyond, Orion Amari had always been the wise counselor to his friends and teammates when it came to finding balance with their emotions and lives. Even though he had his own struggles thanks to his less-than-balanced childhood in an orphanage and suffered from anxiety attacks every-so-often, he’d still been able to live a healthy life regardless and find proper coping mechanisms for his trauma. When Orion found himself falling in love, however, it was a struggle he hadn’t known quite how to handle, or even how best to ask for help with.

Orion realized something was off-balance when Carewyn Cromwell -- a Slytherin one year younger than him who he’d finally managed to convince to rejoin his Quidditch team after three years to help their team win the Quidditch Cup Final -- got badly injured by a Bludger and ended up in the Hospital Wing with a bruised lung. Carewyn’s condition had paralyzed Orion in a severe anxiety attack the likes of which his teammates had rarely seen before, and although he managed to get his emotions under control once Carewyn was conscious, even he was unsettled by how bad the attack was. Admittedly, though, Orion had always been quite fond of Carewyn, given how well they saw eye to eye and how much they both respected each other, and Orion had felt responsible for her having gotten injured. He probably would’ve simply passed his feelings off as just guilt and worry were it not for what he saw the morning of the Quidditch Cup Award Ceremony.

While training before dawn as he always did in good weather, Orion caught sight of a gleaming white Patronus in the form of a Winged Horse. His breath stilled, disbelieving -- it was the same as the Patronus he himself had only just learned to conjure earlier that year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And when he flew down after the Patronus and saw who had cast it, he found Carewyn waiting for him in McNully’s commentator box. Orion would look back on that day and wonder how in the world he reacted as calmly as he did, while knowing the superstition surrounding people sharing Patronuses -- but at the time, the sight had only made him want to be with her, to talk with her, to...look at her...look upon her with more clarity than he ever had before. And when he did, he realized that Carewyn Cromwell truly was a beautiful person: a selfless, kind, resourceful person with more fire than a Fire Crab and all the courage of a Chinese Fireball. It was little wonder that her classmates regarded her with such admiration, whether because of her Cursebreaking or not. Anyone could fall in love with the likes of Carewyn Cromwell. Even he...could see himself falling in love with such a woman.

And yet, when another person might have tried to make a move...Orion hesitated. He only had one week remaining at Hogwarts, before he graduated and joined the Montrose Magpies as their newest Chaser. The dream he’d worked so hard for -- his “gold,” if one recalls Orion valuing the “tenacity of a niffler” -- was finally within his grasp. Could he really put all of that at risk, by trying to alter course now? And Carewyn had her own “gold” as well -- her quest to protect Hogwarts from the Cursed Vaults. She would never choose a romance over helping her brother and protecting her own found family. Orion didn’t even know if what Carewyn and he had could even be considered a romance. Would he even have looked at Carewyn as anything romantic if he hadn’t seen her Patronus? He wasn’t sure...but now that he had, wouldn’t he then be assuming that there was more between them than there really was? Was he only projecting the “soulmates” superstition onto them, just because he fancied her? A crush was not love, after all. As much as he himself believed in fate as well, Orion knew that Carewyn did not. More importantly, he knew she’d both want and deserve someone who loved her for who she was, not due to some old magical wives’ tale. As much as he admired her, Orion couldn’t say definitively that he was in love with Carewyn, and the thought of putting all of his dreams on hold just to try to grab at a chance -- as a Slytherin, Orion just couldn’t see the sense in it. He couldn’t make that choice, not after he’d worked so hard! A Chaser can’t get distracted by the Golden Snitch, when their job is to score goals. And perhaps, in the deepest, darkest part of himself...Orion worried that he could never be what Carewyn needed. He knew how much she loved her brother and how much she wanted her family to be as it once was -- he remembered the pain in her eyes, when he’d first told her he was an orphan. Carewyn needed a family -- a home -- something stable and warm to return to...all things Orion knew absolutely nothing about. He didn’t want a conventional family life -- he had no interest in getting married or having lots of kids or buying a house with a white-picket fence. He wanted to play Quidditch and be free to live his own life, the way he wanted. And as much as he thought it was possible he could fall in love with Carewyn some day, he dreaded the thought of sacrificing everything he’d ever wanted to pursue her -- of giving up the “gold” he’d been chasing for so long.

And so, after a lot of thought, Orion made the decision to keep his feelings to himself. If they were truly meant to be, maybe their paths would realign again someday, he told himself. It was a decision that tormented Orion for the next six years he played for the Montrose Magpies. Not that he talked to much of anyone about his inner conflict -- even Orion’s best friends Skye Parkin and Murphy McNully and “star twin” KC @kc-needs-coffee could only really read between the lines, noticing that he seemed oddly avoidant whenever any mention of Carewyn was brought up. Orion even entered into a few relationships, but none of them lasted long, often because Orion’s partner wanted “more” than Orion was willing to give. The Star Chaser didn’t want to sacrifice his freedom, his dreams, or his independence. It was the main reason he hadn’t chased Carewyn in the first place...even though she’d seemed to understand him so much more than any partner he’d ever had. Carewyn would still send him letters sometimes -- Orion didn’t answer as much as he probably should have, but he always had a lot of difficulty answering her letters whenever he was in a relationship. It made him feel like he was being unfaithful, somehow. And as the years went on and Orion lived his own life and heard about Carewyn’s successful trials at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he tried to tell himself all the more that he’d made the right choice not to pursue Carewyn. If you love someone, you have to be willing to set them free, right? Not that he knew for sure that he’d been in love with her, but...they could’ve been something, maybe...if he hadn’t been so cowardly...

Orion’s longest relationship was with a young woman named Delilah Flint, who had taken a desk job with the Magpies’ PR department. The distinction probably wouldn’t have had much weight (given that they’d still only been together for about a year), were it not for Delilah ending up pregnant. Neither Orion nor Delilah had ever been interested in marriage, Orion because he didn’t see much reason and Delilah because she came from a family who would’ve never approved of her marrying an orphan of mixed magical ancestry -- but after the birth of their daughter Eos in summer 1996, the two reacted in completely opposite ways. Orion, who had never really had much interest in having a family, nonetheless felt a wonderful new paternal feeling swelling up in his breast toward his daughter and promised himself and Eos that she wouldn’t grow up alone, unsafe, and scared like he had. Delilah, on the other hand, suffered from severe post-partum depression after giving birth, thanks in no small part to when Eos was born (right after the return of Voldemort was revealed to the Wizarding World), and she was also in such severe financial straits that she’d have to go to her pureblood family for help, who would never agree to help her knowing she’d had a child out of wedlock. Delilah tried to give Eos up to an orphanage -- Orion, understandably horrified, tried to pacify Delilah however he could, even going so far as to suggest marriage if it meant keeping her and his infant daughter in his life...but in the end, that December, Delilah dropped Eos in Orion’s lap and left, never to be seen again.

The following year, the Ministry fell, and Orion had to go on the run, just barely escaping the Death Eaters with Eos thanks to the help of his Quidditch League associates McNully, Skye, Erika Rath, Oliver Wood, and Andre Egwu. Going on the run with a one-year-old was a difficult proposition, and after several months, a group of Snatchers cornered Orion trying to covertly purchase a new wand from a private vendor after his had gotten broken, and they took him into custody. Orion, who was bundled up in a cloak and looked to be holding his arm as if it was broken under it, went quietly with the Snatchers to the Ministry, his face oddly pale as he forcibly tried to calm his intense anxiety. He was rounded up with several other prisoners and put in a room in the Department of Mysteries until they could be “processed through the court” (read: wrongly convicted of “stealing magic”) and transported to Azkaban.

Fortunately for Orion, Aurors Angelo Lancaster @angellazull and Talbott Winger had caught wind that a new round of prisoners had been brought in, and they reached out to their main contact in Magical Law for help in busting them out. The contact -- an old school friend of theirs who was an up-and-coming lawyer -- arranged the trial hearings’ schedule so that there was a noticeable window of time before they started. In that short time, Angelo, Talbott, and their contact were able to break into the room and rescue the prisoners...and yes, the contact in question did indeed turn out to be a pretty young woman with emotional, almond-shaped blue eyes and a short ginger bob wearing flowing dress robes and bright red lipstick.

When Carewyn and Orion got over the shock of seeing each other face-to-face again for the first time in six years, one of their very first exchanges was --

“You cut your hair.”

“So did you.”

Another involved Carewyn offering to mend the “arm” Orion was holding under his cloak.

“You’re hurt...let me -- ”

“No! No, I’m...not hurt...I...”

When Orion tentatively raised his cloak to show Carewyn his tiny daughter bundled up in a wrap around his chest and cradled in his arms, part of him had wondered how she would react. He hadn’t mentioned Delilah or any of his other relationships to her in those short responses he’d sent her -- it’d been uncomfortable for him, to try to talk about his love life in his letters to her. But regardless of the surprise that rippled over her face, when Carewyn looked from the little baby to up into Orion’s dark eyes, her pale face nonetheless betrayed a weak smile.

“Is...is it a she?”

“Yes. ...Her name is Eos.”

Carewyn’s eyes softened visibly, welling up with a beautiful warmth, like the kind Orion had sometimes seen her show toward her friend Barnaby or younger students like Cedric Diggory. A maternal warmth...

“She’s beautiful.”

Carewyn’s whisper made Orion’s heart swell up in his chest, slamming against his ribs as if it wished to push itself through a set of prison bars. Even after so many years, her soul was truly more like his than anyone else Orion had ever known before.

Together Carewyn, Talbott,and Angelo worked to shrink all of the prisoners down to a size that they could smuggle them out of the Ministry and then help them go into hiding. After the War was over, Carewyn helped Orion with the paperwork needed for him to claim sole custody of Eos, since Orion and Delilah not being legal partners meant that Delilah and her family would have first priority if they ever sued for custody. Orion wasn’t sure if the Flints ever would try to take Eos, but Carewyn was determined not to give them any legal opening.

“You fought for her, Orion, not them. And now I plan to fight for you.”

“Carewyn...”

“No. I don’t want them to ever feel like they can just waltz in and take her, not after leaving her to the wolves. I’ll do whatever I have to, to make sure Eos stays with the man who put his life on the line to keep her in his life and safe. She deserves that.”

The stubborn fire in Carewyn’s blue eyes and the sincerity of her convictions was all it took. Orion had been on the edge for so long, feeling faintly off-kilter with every step for seven years, but had always just barely managed to feign composure and balance...but now, in a single moment, it was all for naught. He had fallen -- despite his best efforts, despite all of his avoidance and his flagrant cowardice -- into the wonderful, swirling abyss of ethereal, warm chaos that men called “love.” In that moment, and in many moments after, Orion cursed himself for not chasing after Carewyn Cromwell from the very start...for wasting so much time and being so passive, so short-sighted...so consumed by “what-if’s” that he’d completely discarded the “what-could-be’s.”

Fortunately there was a chance, now, to make up for lost time. A rose is no less beautiful just because it blooms slowly.

#my art #my writing #hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #katriona cassiopeia #angelo lancaster #talbott winger #other people's mcs #eos amari #orion's haircut is basically a 'long hair with an undercut' look #that way he can tie his hair up and have it completely off his neck when he's flying #and of course he still wears his classic arm warmers XD #can I also just say that as an INFP I totally get the feel of being overwhelmed by 'what-if's'#to the point that you're too paralyzed to actually act?#and yeah choosing between your dreams and a budding crush does seem like kind of an unpleasant crossroads #and I daresay after making the choice not to pursue a romance it would be that bit harder to try to pursue that person #orion and carey's lives ARE very different -- right down to where they live for their jobs london england VS montrose scotland #naturally they find a way to work that out but it would seem like a pretty significant obstacle #and honestly it's probably good that these two took some time apart #carey needed to come to grips with her asexuality before pursuing any other serious relationships #and now orion has some relationship experience under his belt too #plus carey and orion both have their own kids now! carewyn becomes erik apollo's legal guardian post-War #yay single parents!! 83

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 16

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639618035738607616/odins-ward-chapter-15

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 1836

Warnings: Brief mentions of death

True age: Y/n: 1449 // Loki: 1575 // Thor: 1827 // Audunn 3213

Human equivalent age: Y/n: 23 // Loki: 25 // Thor: 29// Audunn: 51

Loki’s POV

The trial is brutal.

In the course of his attempt to save his life, Audunn does everything he can to discredit Y/n. He paints her as a liar, a schemer, the mastermind behind the coup, and at one point, even accuses her of sleeping with his servant, Sveinn.

But she faces it with her head held high and takes none of it, delivering her account of the coup honestly and clearly.

She will make a great queen someday, and I can see by the sparkle in his eye that Odin recognizes this too.

In the end, the evidence against Audunn is too damning, and he is sentenced to death, to be carried out in two days time. It comes a shock to no one, except maybe him, and he meets the verdict with false claims of injustice and conspiracy. He has to be dragged from the courtroom.

Y/n watches him go, flinching slightly when he gives her a look of such hatred, I can feel it in my own bones. Thor — the dutiful fiancé — shields her from Audunn’s view.

After we are dismissed, Y/n disappears, and I resist the urge to go looking for her. She probably wishes to be on her own, and I have no right to offer her comfort, anyway. But fate, it seems, has other plans, and a few hours later, I find her sitting in the gardens, absently staring at a light pink flower.

I have to say her name twice before she notices my presence. She looks up, blinking as if working herself out of a daze.

“Oh, hi Loki,” she murmurs, staring at my shoulder rather than my face.

I’ve never seen her like this. The Y/n I know has always had a bite to her, a spark of passion. But the woman before me may as well be a shell of Y/n, for all the light that is in her eyes.

I’m at a complete loss for what to do.

So, without thinking, I conjure a bottle of wine and hold it out to her, sitting next to her on the bench.

She looks between me and the bottle, and then the clouds in her eyes break and she gives a soft laugh. She takes the bottle and drinks deeply, clutching it to her chest when she’s finished. “We cannot solve all our problems with alcohol.”

I try to study her inconspicuously, still concerned for her state of mind. “Yes, but it can take the edge off.”

She chuckles more freely, taking another long drink. “When I am queen, that shall be the cornerstone of my domestic policy — your children might be starving, but here, have something to drink! It’ll take the edge off.” Then, with a noise between a laugh and a sob, she forces the bottle back into my grasp and drops her head into her hands. “Oh my gods. What went wrong, Loki? How did we mess up our lives this badly?”

I shake my head vehemently. I know I’ve screwed up, but she’s done nothing of the sort. “You’ve not done anything wrong.”

“Haven’t I?” She raises her head, and when she looks at me, I can see her eyes brim with tears. “I fell in love with you when I knew I would belong to someone else.”

I furrow my eyebrows, confused as to why she’s upset about something so out of her control. “You didn’t choose to—”

She raises a challenging eyebrow. “I cheated on my husband with you.”

Does she regret that? I try again to stop her self-berating. “That was my fault, I—”

She begins to talk over me, her voice growing more hysterical with every word. “I let an innocent servant be beaten half to death because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. My people were massacred while I relaxed in the bath—”

“—Y/n please, stop this. It isn’t—”

She refuses to be consoled. “I’ve sent my husband to his death. I looked him in the eye and condemned him! And I will never love Thor. He doesn’t deserve that. I’ve taken away his chance at happiness with Jane, I—my chest hurts — I can’t breathe.” She gasps through panicked sobs.

Without thinking, I place the bottle on the ground and gather her in my arms. She clutches at my shirt, shaking and gasping in shallow breaths. We hold onto each other too tightly, like if we relax even slightly, the other will crumble apart.

“Okay,” I try to soothe, my own voice wavering with worry. “Okay, deep breaths.” We draw in air and exhale together. I bring my hand to the back of her head and draw what I hope are calming lines with my thumb. After a few minutes, she regains control of her breathing and leans further into me, visibly exhausted. I lay my cheek against her hair, grateful that she seems to be through the worst of it but knowing she’s not out of the woods yet — I’ve had enough panic attacks to know how volatile they can be. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know.”

As gently as I can, I stand, pulling her with me. “Come.”

She doesn’t protest when I transport us inside her chambers, though she does look a bit sick at all the movement. I walk her to her bed then bring her a glass of water — something I probably should have provided her with initially, instead of the wine.

“I’m sorry,” she nearly whimpers, sagging against the pillows.

Immediately, I shake my head. “There’s no need to apologize. I…”

Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t give in…it will only hurt you both. You are undeserving of her love, and probably incapable of giving it back.

But I have always been selfish. I am unable to stop myself from repeating her words to me from a few days ago, showing just how deeply I have taken them to heart. “I am always on your side.”

This seems to calm her. She sighs contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut. Within seconds, she’s asleep.

I know I should leave. But instead of walking out the door like I planned, I find myself settling on the couch facing her bed. Now that Y/n is settled, I take notice of the exhaustion in my own body — sleep frequently eludes me, too. And, without meaning to, I drift off to sleep.

Y/n’s POV

I awake to the soft peals of bells in the distance and the first rays of the sun. For the first time in while, I feel rested. I did not wake once, it seems, and slept soundly from afternoon to early morning.

There’s a figure lying on my couch.

Loki is too long for the small furniture, so he sleeps curled up, wrapped in his cape. He looks so innocent and peaceful that it makes my stomach hurt, because I know those qualities will flee once he wakes. He’s gone through so much. And yes, a good part of it is by his own hand, but still, I ache with the desire to see him well-cared for and happy and free of the weight he keeps himself under.

As if feeling my gaze, he stirs. He stretches out, groaning softly, then sits up straight, blinking to adjust to the limited light.

We stare at each other for a moment before I gather the courage to speak. “Good morning.”

I feel unsure.

How many times had we woken up together, in much more intimate contexts than this?

But this moment…this moment feels dangerous. It teeters on the edge of something familiar, something we could so easily slip back into….

He swallows, holding my gaze with equal gravity.

Then, he breaks it. “I’m sorry. I should not have stayed.” He gets up, and moves to the door.

But I am not ready to let this moment go, and I call after him. “No—I don’t mind. Please, stay.”

He looks at me over his shoulder, uncertainty in his eyes and…hope?

Unsure what exactly compels me to move, I rise from the bed. I take my time walking to him, fearful that if I move too quickly or too loudly, all this will fade away. When I reach him, I stop just short of our shoes touching.

The words I feel so strongly come out as no more than a breath. “I want you to stay.”

Slowly, hesitantly, and with all the force of a brush of air, he takes my hand in his. “We cannot fall back into old habits.” But even as he says this, he steps closer, bringing up his fingers to twine in the ends of my hair.

I’m unable to stop my free hand from running up his chest. He feels so familiar, so solid, so safe. “We would be terrible people to do so.” Somehow, my lips are now only centimeters from his.

His grip tightens in my hair. “I wish I cared about that.” My fingers brush against his neck, and his lips touch mine.

A sharp knock echoes through the room.

I jump, and Loki closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. “Send them away.”

“Yes,” I agree, reluctantly releasing him from my hold and pushing him out of sight. As I walk to my chamber door, I have to blink a few times to steady myself.

Am I really going to do this? Aren’t I strong enough to stop myself?

Do I want to stop myself?

I pull open the door, to reveal a smiling Thor.

Oh gods.

“Thor,” I half-gasp, the excitement and peace I felt just a seconds ago shattering on the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”

He eyes my rumpled dress—yesterday’s dress—with amusement. “I can see that.”

I feel heat gather in my cheeks. “Yes, uh…I was so exhausted after yesterday’s events that I fell asleep in the afternoon and only just woke up a few moments ago. I should call Ragna and dress for the day.”

“Perhaps that would be wise,” he agrees politely. “And after, would you be so kind as to join me in the dining hall? I would enjoy sharing breakfast with you.”

“Oh.”

Because he’s my fiancé.

Fiancé’s spend time together.

Former lovers do not.

Oh, I am awful.

I force a too-sunny smile to my face. “Yes, I would like that as well. I shall be there shortly.”

He bows, and brings the back of my hand to his lips for a kiss.

I’m the worst. The shame makes me feel ill.

I close the door. As much as I dread doing so, it is Loki I must send away. Because he is not my intended.

Gathering my resolve, I turn to search for him.

But he is already gone.

A/n Hey everyone, sorry for the month in between posts! I don’t know why, but I just could NOT get myself to write this chapter! But I finally figured out what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it, so here ya go!

Comments, likes, and reblogs mean the world to me! Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list.

Masterlist

Link to next part: To be posted

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606 @hiddlebatchedloki @jooordanharrrop @marsbarsboy @damondallysodapopstiles @xwackk

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brexrif · 4 years

Text

The White Wolf: My Hero (Part 1)

REQUEST: “Can I ask you a romantic scenario with Geralt and a shy girl who starts to follow him and Jaskier after Geralt saved her life? Can I ask you to add some smut too? If you are comfortable with that. Can I ask you to make the girl a virgin too?”

Honey, I ONLY write smut, so never worry about my comfort level with requests-but this request demanded a slow burn so here you have it. Part 1 is truly mostly fluff! Warnings: masturbation? Fluff I don’t want to give too much away, but Part 2 will be harboring the smut.

Find PART TWO HERE!

Check out my MASTER LIST if you want to read any of my other Geralt smut! It’s all filthy so be warned.

The air was crisp and the wind blew gently through the trees around you. The boughs bent pleasantly to and fro and the leaves rustled melodically above you. The sun shown bright still, but the afternoon began to fade. You made your way quickly to the edge of the creek to collect more herbs for your favorite, special tea. You promised your father you would return before sundown to help keep after the pub. You made your way through the foliage in search of the signature, beautiful pattern of the kelly green leaves. You hummed a familiar tune aloud, making your work more pleasant as you gathered the herbs into your small basket. You think the melody was about a Witcher-or something.

You felt the ground rumble below your knees, which dug your dress into the dirt below you. Your breath stilled and you drew your chin slowly over your shoulder to the forest behind you. You saw nothing until a huge and terrifying Necrophage came barreling through the trees and straight for you. You jumped up, your basket tumbled to the ground and you let out the loudest scream you could manage. The monster charged at you and growled, crawling on all fours and devastating everything in it’s path to you. It sunk its claws into your arms and lifted you into the air, the pain seared through you and your scream curdled in your throat. The monster screamed back in your face, its fangs long and terrifying readying to take a bite out of your supple flesh. You were screaming so loud you thought you might pass out from that alone, regardless of the fear and pain. You shut your eyes tight and braced yourself for death.

Just then you heard the vile creature cry out in agony and you dropped to the forest floor roughly. You opened your eyes to see a very large man wielding a long sword, dripping with blood and standing over the twitching, freshly dead body of the Necrophage. The man towered over the body, kicking it slightly to assure it was good and dead. You felt yourself being cradled lightly, but you didn’t notice who by. You were mesmerized by the hero that stood tall before you: he had long, white hair that was messy and poorly tied back, his eyes shown like amber honey and his pupils were hardly detectable.

A pendant hung from his neck, a wolf…

and you suddenly realized this was the famous Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf.

“Geralt, I think she’s hurt” the voice behind you said, his hands nervously cradling your shoulders.

“I’m quite alright” you protested, your voice meek and quiet as you struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

“Woah there, take it easy” The Witcher rushed over as you tried to sit up and you became very aware of the gashes in your arms from the monster’s claws. You winced and fell back into the stranger’s arms embarrassed by your own attempt.

“Jaskier, hold her steady” The Witcher said urgently to the man behind you. He bent down next to you and examined your wounds. You were so overcome by the sight of him, the reality of your pain seemed to fade. You were well distracted by his impeccably chiseled features, the thick stubble spreading over his prominent jawline, the scars on his face and the intensity of his furrowed brow.

“You’ll be alright. Do you live around here?” his deep voice was low and gravely.

“Uh, j-just in the town, through the forest here and down the lane” you struggled to reply, your eyes latched to his.

“Oh, I could use some rest Geralt lets go to the town”

“This isn’t about you, Jaskier” he said impatiently. “We need to bring her back.” And with that, you were lifted off the ground and into the Witcher’s strong arms.

You gathered the courage to speak again, “I’m Y/N. Thank you for saving me, Witcher.”

“Geralt” he corrected you shortly. He stood with you effortlessly in his arms and pressed forward. Jaskier, who you now saw was a colorfully dressed bard, followed behind you two.

“You don’t have to carry me, Geralt” you said, blushing at saying his name, feeling familiar.

“Hmmmm.” He thought for a moment, you could feel the deep hum in his chest as your head rested on it tentatively. He looked down at you and locked with your eyes for a short moment that felt like an hour-time slowed in the heat of your eye contact. His head snapped back up suddenly and he continued forward.

“I won’t have you walking back like this. It’s nothing.” You blushed and enjoyed the ride, surrendering to his hold and resting your cheek on his impressively solid chest.

Your arms hurt, but you were honestly so well distracted, you hardly noticed. You felt the strength of Geralt’s arms cradled around you, the pounding of his heavy footsteps as he made his way forward. You could hear his impossibly slow and deep breaths and were overwhelmed by his scent. He smelled like SUCH a man to you, a combination of the deep forest, fresh earth and a manly musk no doubt generated by traveling on the road for some time. You inhaled deeply, taking in as much of him as you could. You had taken notice of other boys around town, locked a few lips, but had never been taken aback by someone so powerful, so manly as Geralt. You were smitten with him and melted into his arms helplessly.

Jaskier followed behind playing his lute and searching for a melody to match the heroism of Geralt’s rescue.

“Then Geralt of Rivia appeaaaared!” Jaskier sang to you both.

...............................................................................................................................

You reached the entrance of the small town and directed Geralt to your home.

“The pub?” Geralt asked.

“We live above the pub, my father owns it” you cooed at him, trying desperately to break your gaze from studying the sharp line of his jaw, you wanted to remember every detail.

Geralt kicked open the door to the pub, you were still in his arms, and Jaskier followed behind.

“Y/N!!” the familiar voice of your father yelled to you. Then quickly his tone changed when he saw Geralt holding you, “Hey Witcher! What the ell’ did you do to my daughter!” your father crossed the room, grabbing an axe resting on a nearby post.

“Father! Geralt saved me”

“An Alghoul had your daughter. I killed it.” He responded curtly while very gently and slowly lowering you to the ground. He took special care releasing you and seemed to linger on your delicate elbows, savoring your touch- but you could have been imagining it. You were certainly trying to savor the feel of his touch.

“You’re hurt!” your father was distraught, he finally lowered his axe keeping a stern eye on Geralt.

“A few scratches from the Necrophage’s grasp. Y/N will be fine. I have a medicine to apply, but the wounds need to be properly cleaned first.” A shiver went up your spine when he said your name, you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“Well have at it then Witcher, I know nothing of medicines and my pub’s fillin’ up for the evenin’. I’ll pay you for your trouble.” Your father directed Felix, his apprentice, to fetch some fresh water and cloth for you. You saw him hand Felix the axe and whisper something to him shifting his eyes slightly to Geralt.

You followed Felix up the steps and Geralt tread apprehensively behind you. Jaskier had made his way to a table of local women and was strumming his lute already. You were uncomfortable, to say the least. Felix had been one of the local boys that you sometimes would kiss in the pub after cleaning up after close. Occasionally he would sneak a grab at your chest, but nothing major had happened with him. But still, he scarcely took his eyes off of you while you both worked and you suspected he only apprenticed for your father to get in his good graces and ask for your hand someday.

In truth, Felix was a good friend to you, nothing more. He felt like a boyish companion. He was silly and only took his work seriously, too seriously. You watched his slender body moving up the stairs before you, his slim arms held the bucket and you thought of Geralt’s arms, which were thicker than Felix’s legs…both legs together. You were suddenly aware of the fact that Geralt could be surveying your body similarly behind you, sizing you up. Without thinking too much about it, you added an extra sway to your hips. You heard Geralt cough suddenly behind you and scoff a bit.

Felix opened the door to your small room and worked to start a fire in the empty hearth. After he set the logs down and reached for the flint, Geralt lifted three fingers towards the fire and it lit effortlessly. Witcher magic, you were mesmerized. You watched a smirk come across his face, though he tried to hide it. Felix scowled at him.

“Y/N, are you sure you want this mutant working on your wounds? I’m sure I could clean them up for ya” Felix offered, he glared at Geralt and palmed the hilt of the axe from his belt.

“Felix, I’m quite sure. Don’t be so mean to Geralt, he saved me after all.” You protested. Geralt made a ‘hmmmf’ noise under his breath with a closed mouth as he started soaking some cloth in the water. He turned to you sitting on the bed and sighed, looking away towards the ground.

“You’ll need to..um” You stared at him wide eyed, distracted again by his good looks. He grew more uncomfortable by the second.

“Oh! My dress..” you blushed. You pulled your arms out of the sleeves and pushed the overlay down to your waist, exposing your corset and heaving breasts underneath.

“Okay, Witcher! I see your game!” Felix rose quickly pulling the axe from his belt and raising it quickly.

“Felix no!” You yelled. Geralt hardly even turned to him, extended one of his large arms and caught the hilt of the axe easily. Felix struggled to pull it from his grip embarrassingly, heaving and tugging grunting all the while.

“Felix, it’s really alright. Geralt is here to help” you encouraged, but you were still blushing watching Geralt’s eyes struggle to keep off of your now exposed chest.

“Gods, Y/N. Would you look at the brute? He’s got you half dressed now.”

“He’s got to reach the wounds, doesn’t he?” Geralt chuckled deeply, almost amused by the boy’s concern for you and the petty argument between the two of you. Felix sat down with a huff, but refused to leave and did not keep his eyes from you for one second. Geralt returned his axe with another smirk, but no words.

Geralt worked quickly and skillfully. He gently took your arms and washed the wounds carefully. He laid a paste over them once they were cleaned, it smelled of peppermint and lilac and tingled a bit on your sore skin. He then wrapped them in fresh dry cloth to keep the medicine intact.

“There.” He spoke finally, having completed the task at hand. He tore his eyes from your wounds for the first time since he started so diligently caring for them and met your eyes slowly. He held your gaze again and you felt a shiver go down your spine and an unexpected twinge pang between your legs. As if he could sense the embarrassing bodily reaction from you, he tore himself away quickly and stood.

“Keep those wrapped up for two or three hours. Your skin will have scabbed over by then and the medicine will relieve any pain you feel.” He spoke quickly, trying to distract himself, but you watched his eyes wonder back to your heaving chest. He shook his head as if trying to shake the thoughts from his head. Your eyes traveled to his leather trousers and you could have sworn you saw a bulge forming beneath the laces.

“Thanks, I guess, Witcher” Felix said rising to see him out.

“Geralt. Thank you-thank you for everything” you suddenly felt a desperation creep into your voice. Would this be the last time you saw him? He nodded at you, his eyes lingering on yours again.

“You can gather your coin downstairs” Felix interrupted his gaze.

“I don’t want it” Geralt said abruptly, turned and left. Felix took the axe and followed him out. You listened to them both make their way down the wooden steps.

You lay in your bed and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Geralt’s powerful arms, his hard chest, the depth of his low voice and the piercing heat of his yellow eyes. A heat grew now, between your legs thinking of him. Careful to keep your wrappings intact, you hiked up the skirt of your dress and slid your fingers to the warmth you felt. You had only felt so moved as to touch yourself here a few times, but you remembered how good it felt when this heat grew. You sunk a finger into your core and bit your lip thinking of Geralt.

................................................................................................................................

You woke a few hours later. You could hear the commotion of the usual busy night crowd growing below. Your father would be missing your help. You rose slowly and started to unwrap the cloth Geralt had so carefully laid for you. You blushed remembering his touch. You wiped away the paste as you went and just as he promised, your skin had already scabbed over, most all of the pain subsided. You changed into a fresh dress and made your way down the steps. Jaskier was sitting on the edge of a busy table, playing his lute and singing tales of ‘Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf.’ You surveyed the busy pub, looking desperately for any sign of him.

“Y/N! You look well. I was worried” Felix stopped, arms full of empty mugs and admired you.

“Ey! Felix!” Your father waved to him from behind the bar frantically.

“Ah, Y/N. You do look well, my daughter.” Your father said to you, smiling warmly once you made your way over to him.

“Thank you father, I am feeling much better”

“Aye, Aye” he seemed genuinely relieved to see you.

“Um. I wonder” you hesitated “where is Geralt-uh the Witcher, now?” you asked of him stumbling on your words.

“Aye, I think he was making his way over to Rosemary and Thyme last I sawr him. Dippin his wick” your father laughed heartily and you blushed wildly. You don’t know why, but you felt tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Of course he would want to be with a whore, a real experienced woman, someone that could handle him. What would he want with you? You weren’t so young anymore, truly a young woman, but you still had yet to lay with someone. You lowered your face.

“Y/N? Do you need to go lie down some more?” Felix asked, concerned and spilling ale over the counter. Your father clapped him in the back of the head.

“Y/N, go upstairs now if you aren’t going to work tonight. You’re distracting me help” your father scolded.

You bee-lined for the staircase, keeping your head down so no one would see the tears starting to stream down your face. You felt foolish. Why would Geralt be interested in you, why would you let yourself develop feelings, develop desires so quickly. He could likely have any woman he wanted, his world weary life no doubt afforded him ample experience sexually. Why would he waste it on you? You were so embarrassed, your thoughts were absolutely racing. Those arms! All that stubble you wanted to graze your lips over! How foolish of you!

Suddenly,

you ran RIGHT into someone. Someone very solid and very large. You apprehensively brought your face up and wiped your eyes quickly to apologize frantically and move out of the way. It was Geralt. He held your elbows instinctively, his fingers cradling the back of your arms. His eyes were wild with worry when he met your face.

“Y/N” he said softly. Your heart LEAPT at hearing your name resonate in that deep chest and pass those perfect lips.

................................................................................................................................OMG WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!?! PART TWO IS HERE!

Enjoy my MASTER LIST in the meantime where you can find my other works, featuring lots of Geralt smut.

***Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list for when I post new content!***

@boogeywoogeywoogeywoogeywoogey, @magdelen69, @eevee-of-rivia, @pleasantlydisney,

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nirikeehan · 2 years

Text

Fic Writer’s Round Up: 2021

Tagged by @noire-pandora and thought I’d give this a go, even though I’m not terribly organized...

Word count table or projects list table for 2021:

I haven’t been keeping a table, but based on my AO3 stats, here are the fics I worked on this year...

Star Wars Sequel Trilogy: The Force’s Will (Reylo with Reyux undertones), the post-TLJ longform WIP that’s an EU-mashup, which has really gotten out of hand; and two exchange fics: With Her Ghosts (Reylo; still a WIP), and Learning To Eat Soup With a Knife, a fun little canonverse AU where a young Rey meets and befriends Hux, allowing her to get recruited into the First Order. Would love to continue this AU as well, though the current fic is a standalone.

Dragon Age: 4 fics (with one as of right now in a mostly done state but unpublished) for Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle Prompts... all of them have Blackwall in them. I think I might have a problem.

New things I tried this year:

In December, I finally joined the DA Drunk Writing Circle after following it for about a year. BEST. DECISION. EVER. I’ve been writing Star Wars fic almost exclusively since 2019 AND running a sequel trilogy era TTRPG since 2020... that’s a lot of damn Star Wars. Don’t get me wrong, I always have and always will love me some Star Wars, but it’s been nice to break into new territory. Especially with the sequels, there’s a lot of writing up you have to do, since the Disney canon material got so sloppy. Dragon Age has such fantastic writing already that it’s a real joy to step into the world and appreciate it for what it is, not what I wish it would be.

Also as of like, yesterday, I wrote the first smut I’ve written in............ a long time. This is part of the “Be the smut you want to see in the world” initiative started by me and a friend. The verdict on it is not yet in since I haven’t gathered the courage to post it, but it’s part of an overall “I refuse to feel guilty or embarrassed by things that bring me joy” thing I’ve been trying this year so we’ll see.

Fic I spent the most time on:

The Force’s Will, for sure. I think I got 4 chapters published in 2021, which uh... sure doesn’t feel like much in the long-run when it started with a monthly updating schedule but *shrug* The branching out has been good for me, because otherwise I do get into a rut with it. I’ve been writing it for almost 3 years now!

I do want to get back to it soon, though. The next chapter is Poe-centric and there are just times when I need more Poe Dameron in my life.

Fic I spent the least time on:

Iron, because I didn’t update it at all this year. I have a half-written chapter draft just.... sitting. It’s for a nearly non-existent pairing (Hux/Kaydel Ko Connix), and I think that saps my motivation a lot. Like maybe I should just give up and write some Gingerrose instead because it’s more in demand. Still, for a pairing that basically doesn’t exist I still get kudos and nice comments on it, so I would like to get back to it someday. Kaydel is my favorite minor sequel character and I enjoy writing her a lot with the headcanon I’ve developed for her.

Favourite thing(s) I wrote:

NGL, I am weak for writing both Blackwall and Cullen opposite my actual human disaster Inquisitor, Thalia Trevelyan. Shit is complicated af with the love triangle that never ends and every time I think I’m gonna settle and let her be with one of them I remember the other is also a fantastic character with a lot of chemistry and it just goes on and on forever. Can one do an AU for their own character? How else am I ever going to let them be happy? Whatever, I love the angst. It’s hideous.

Favourite thing(s) I read:

Ficwise, hands down the best thing I’ve read this year was my Reylo fall exchange fic gift, The Call of Khashyun by benduo. It’s still a WIP but I’m biting my nails waiting to see what happens next. Canonverse, eldritch horror, creeping madness, Rey and Kylo stranded together on an evil Sith planet... I love it so much.

In published fiction, it’s hard to nail down one favorite. Dune by Frank Herbert was incredible and influential to me in terms of sci fi/fantasy genre stuff. I also really loved The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennet and The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides, as they were incredibly well-written and saying some really poignant things about society in quiet, subtle ways. The two books in The Witcher series I read were also fantastic, and is one of the few non-ASOIAF fantasy fiction I’ve read that I’ve been impressed with. Despite loving fantasy settings in video game and TTRPGs, I am really hard to please when reading fantasy fiction. :\ One of my 2022 reading goals is to branch out with this and find more fantasy I truly enjoy reading.

Writing goals for next year:

Write more fic that brings me joy. Going outside of my one main WIP to do some exchanges and prompt events has been A LOT of fun and made the whole process feel like less of a slog. Which is great for something that is, at the end of the day, a hobby.

Tagging:

@monocytogenes

.... honestly that’s the only person I can think of to tag but if you are seeing this and feel inclined, by all means consider yourself tagged and share!

#fics #writing nonsense #meme #2021 fic writing review

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takingcourage · 3 years

Text

Family Ties

A Miscalculations one-shot

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC

Word Count: 3,400

Summary: Having Cassian back in her life means meeting his family too.

Note: This story is set somewhere between the final chapters and the epilogue of Miscalculations. It’s dedicated to my Cassian Nonnies and the now-inactive secretsaladbouquet, who once asked to see Kellen and Owen meet Cassian’s family.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“She’s going to love you, Kellen.”

“You don’t know that.” Rolling her lips flat, she stared past the sidewalk and up the stoop to the front door. Unassuming as it was, she couldn’t help imagining a critical woman peering through the diamond of frosted glass. A woman she had the sense that she’d already wronged despite never meeting her -- perhaps because she'd never met her.

Shifting the car into park, Cassian removed his hand from the gear and used it to cradle Kellen’s knee. “I know my Ma. She loves anything that makes me happy, and you’re at the top of the list.”

With a deep exhale, she felt a small portion of her worry melt away at his words.

“Besides,” he went on, “look who we’ve got in the backseat. You make a good impression on everyone, don’t you, Owen?”

“Uh-huh!”

Kellen giggled in spite of herself. Their son had almost-irritating tendency to agree with everything his father said, as long as it wasn’t related to vegetables or bedtime. “He’s like our secret weapon,” she agreed, punching her thumb on the seatbelt release.

“Show me your smile,” Cassian prompted, catching his son's eyes in the rearview mirror. The boy obliged, then resumed his efforts to pry apart the clip at his chest. “And yours?” Cassian continued, turning to the woman beside him.

Her lips curved instinctively at the question. Eyes dancing, he leaned into the passenger seat for a quick kiss. “Let’s go.”

Plucking up her courage, she tossed the strap off her shoulder and reached for her bag.

Kellen knew how to exude confidence. Between her flirtatious nature and her ability to stand up for herself against the naysayers in her line of work, she was used to taking the world by storm. Yet, she was at a loss as she mounted the doorstep, waiting to meet Cassian’s mother.

This wasn't a place to make an impression with double entendres or by bringing up her MBA. She didn’t even know how to get her own parents' attention, and they were the ones who’d raised her. What hope did she have of impressing the woman responsible for the incredible man standing next to her?

Hearing the click of the latch on the other side of the door, she shivered and held Owen’s hand a little bit tighter. The hair at her temple swayed as Cassian leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” she mouthed, focus still cemented on the door as it opened to reveal a dark-haired woman.

Though she’d seen pictures, Cassian’s mother was shorter than she’d imagined. She bit back a newfound sense of awe that this was the woman who’d brought eight children to a new country all on her own. But any threat of intimidation evaporated at the sight of the woman’s smile. Like her son and grandson, Teresa Keane had an incredibly ready grin.

“Hello, hello! Welcome.” The older woman’s thick brogue made Cassian’s accent sound weak by comparison.

“Ma, this is Kellen.”

“Hi, Mrs. Keane,” she greeted, stretching out her free hand.

“Hello, dear. Call me Teresa,” the older woman urged, pulling her in for a hug instead. Arms pressed awkwardly to her sides, Kellen tried to focus on the moment instead of berating herself. The attempt was only partially successful.

Ten seconds in, and I’ve already made a fool of myself. The thought sent a tremor of unease through her bones as Teresa pulled away.

“And this must be Owen?” She bent at the knees for a closer look. “How are you, young man? You’re very handsome, aren’t you?”

Feeding off the woman’s enthusiasm, Owen’s mouth cracked into a smile.

“He’s like a vision of the past, isn’t he?” she asked, straightening back to her full height to embrace her son.

“It’s uncanny,” he agreed.

Kellen warmed at the pride in his voice. They were fine -- this was fine. In spite of her misstep with the hug, things were still going relatively well.

“C’mon in,” Teresa beckoned. “It’s nearly winter and you’re still standing out here on my porch. It’s like you want this lovely family of yours to freeze, Cassian -- it really is. Let’s get inside.”

Gathering Owen into her arms, Kellen followed the other woman into the house, grateful when Cassian’s hand found the small of her back. Even if she and Kellen didn't get along right away, at least Teresa would see how attentive Cassian was toward them both.

“Is that apple cake I smell?” He asked, and Kellen breathed a chuckle at the question. Between the strong fragrance as they approached the kitchen the number of times it had come up in conversation, she could practically already taste it.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know I make it any time there’s family over.”

Family. Was that how Teresa thought of them?

She means Cassian, you idiot, she corrected. And maybe Owen. They are related, after all. Whatever Teresa meant, Kellen was fairly certain she wasn’t part of it. But maybe someday...

Hoisting Owen a little higher, she tried to focus back on Teresa's voice.

“... told Cal not to cut into it until we got back, but I had to post Grainne in the kitchen to keep him in check. I’ve been watching him like a hawk all morning.

Kellen’s ears perked at the familiar names and tried to conjure up the images that matched them. Even with pictures to help, there were so many people to keep track of that it had taken nearly an hour for her to get the names and birth order of his siblings straight. With a flash of panic, she remembered how many members of his family she’d have left to meet after today.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kellen. Today is about Teresa. The fact that she was meeting two of his siblings was fairly incidental. As the youngest, Callahan was living at home while he attended university. Grainne -- Cassian’s eldest sister and the one he was closest to -- had devised an excuse to join them at her older brother’s insistence.

“I can hardly blame him. It smells delicious.” Kellen tried to gather the threads of conversation she still remembered, hoping there was still time to salvage the afternoon. “I assume you’re who I have to thank for Cassian being such a wonderful cook?”

The sound that came out of Teresa’s mouth was inarticulate, but it struck Kellen as vaguely disparaging. “I saw to it that no child of mine would ever have to rely on takeaway. They’ve all been cooking since they were old enough to reach the stove.”

Kellen bit her tongue to silence the curse that was hovering at the tip. She'd have a fit if she knew her grandson was subsisting on my repertoire of frozen bag meals and grilled cheese sandwiches. Maybe Cassian can give me some lessons before the next time we come over

“Mama, I thirsty.”

Shifting Owen’s weight to her hip, she dug into her deep leather tote for his bottle. Their eyes locked as he clicked the button to release the cap and sucked the straw. As she trailed Teresa into the kitchen, she stroked the boy’s curls fondly. Trivial as the interaction had been, she couldn’t help her sense of relief at the small reminder that her son’s needs were still being met.

Still shielding the cake as they entered, Grainne was the first to speak. “Cass! Good to see you.” If Cassian's stories hadn't left her with such a favorable impression of his sister, the woman's sparkling eyes and bubbly affect might have given cause for alarm. “And Kellen?” Abandoning her post, she slipped an arm around the other woman's shoulders.

This time, Kellen was more prepared. Though her hands were still occupied with Owen and her bag, she managed to lean into the embrace instead of standing still. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Cassian talks about you all the time,” she shared as Grainne pulled away.

From his place at the breakfast table, Callahan lifted a hand in salute.

Once the adults had finished introductions, Grainne’s attention turned to the only child in the room. “Hey there, buddy. Can you tell me your name?”

Holding his cup close to his chest, the boy replied with serious eyes. “Owen.”

“Owen, huh? I like that name.”

He gave her a toothy smile and wriggled to be let down. Releasing him to the floor, Kellen stretched out a hand to keep him from venturing too close to the stove where Teresa was finishing up the custard.

“He’s so sweet,” Grainne crooned in Kellen’s direction. “I can’t believe how much he looks like you, Cass.”

“Poor kid.” Cal quipped, tilting his chair to balance on the back two legs. “Pity you’re such an ugly ba--”

Spoon in hand, Teresa turned on her youngest before he could even think of adding a second syllable. “Callahan Arthur Keane! There are young ears in this room. You should be ashamed."

“Yes, Ma.” All four legs of his chair smacked the tile floor.

Kellen squatted down to retrieve Owen’s cup before it could roll under the table. Out of sight, her brows furrowed in concern. Was Cassian on such bad terms with Cal? She knew he’d asked Grainne to come in order to help temper his youngest sibling’s dubious charms, but it had never occurred to her that the two brothers might not get along.

Schooling her features before she rose, she wondered vaguely if she needed to come to Cassian’s defense.

Goodness knew she and her own brother weren’t close enough to have any kinds of disagreements. They didn’t know one another well enough to offer meaningful insults. But her parents certainly did. She considered it a miracle if the three of them made it more than five minutes without trading barbs. If the situation had somehow been reversed, would she have wanted Cassian to defend her against their criticisms?

She couldn’t say for certain, but the question was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

“You’re just bitter, Cal. We all know there weren’t any good genes left by the time it came to you.”

Recognizing the teasing edge in Cassian’s tone, she realized she’d been misreading the entire interaction. Blood rushed to her cheeks along with the certainty of her mistake. His family isn’t like that, Kellen. They don’t have those fights.

Noticing her distraction, Cassian raised a brow in concern. She quickly shrugged it away before he resumed the conversation.

“He’s only like me when it comes to looks. He’s already better with numbers than I am. Should we show your Uncle Cal, Owen?”

“Uh-huh!”

Still exploring the floor, Owen probably wasn’t even certain what he’d agreed to, but he always had plenty of uh-huhs for his father. Most of his nun-uhs and noes were, unfortunately, reserved for her. She smirked as her son turned his attention to Cassian. Come to think of it, she couldn’t blame him for the preferential treatment. His father had a tendency to get all of her yeses as well.

“C’mere,” Cassian prompted, and the boy who’d been squirming in her arms no more than two minutes before happily climbed up on his father’s knee. With the ease of practice, the man held out his hand, fingers stretched. Owen took them in turn, counting off in a lilting rhythm.

“One... two.... three...four....”

Of the two of them, Cassian was by far the more accommodating teacher. Kellen was always slow to provide answers when the boy faltered, intent on learning exactly how far his memorization skills had progressed. Cassian mouthed everything along with him, sometimes whispering hints with pretend secrecy. She hadn’t determined which approach was the most pedagogically sound, but there was no question which one was more fun to watch.

Teresa had turned from her place at the stove, positively beaming as she saw the two of them interact. Even Cal had slipped his phone into his pocket and adopted a courteous expression.

“Seven...eight...”

Owen’s brow furrowed, and he launched himself toward Cassian’s ear in concern. Even though Kellen didn’t catch all of the words he whispered, all signs pointed to a call of nature.

“Excuse us,” Cassian offered, pushing back his chair so that Owen could hop down from his knee. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Kellen breathed a quiet laugh as they passed into the hall, all at once aware of the tension now that the one person who connected them was gone. Feeling an uncustomary loss for words, she tried to recall what she knew about the room’s other occupants. Grainne was in sales, Cal was finishing pre-requisites and hadn’t declared a major, Teresa did administrative work for one of Cassian’s brothers-in-law... that didn’t give her a lot of ideas for sparking conversations.

“Mona?”

“Hmm?” It took a beat for Kellen to comprehend that the word was a question.

“Your lipstick,” Grainne clarified. “It’s Mona, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m impressed! Cassian told me you were into fashion, but...”

“My roommate is a beauty vlogger. You see enough swatches, some of it just starts to stick. It’s a great shade with that outfit, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly self conscious about the rest of her makeup, Kellen’s eyes flicked to the semi-reflective door of the microwave, but it was no use. The image was too dark to reveal anything about the application, though she was sure it had been passable when she’d left her apartment some hour before.

“It’s nice not to be the odd one out in the family anymore,” Grainne continued, leveling luminous brown eyes at Kellen. “My sisters have been refusing makeovers for years. At least Ma lets me pick her nail polish from time to time.”

Kellen’s lips crept into a smile as Teresa pshawed the statement. “Don’t speak ill of those who aren’t here to defend themselves.”

“You sound like the girls who sit in front of me in psych class,” Cal complained, phone in hand again. “They’re always carrying on about makeup and shoes. It’s moronic.”

Grainne cocked a conspiratorial brow across the table. Kellen met her grin, bracing her elbows on the table as they listened to Cal's continued complaints.

“I’m sorry you lead such a rough existence, Cal,” Grainne offered sarcastically when he paused to check a notification. “I’ll say an extra prayer for you tonight.”

“Plates?” Teresa cut in, her implied command rousing her youngest from his seat.

Kellen had to hide her giggle after the glance she shared with Cassian’s sister. No wonder he was so fond of the woman. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, but it was easy to see the two of them becoming friends. Making light conversation as Cal set the table, she hardly had opportunity to miss her boyfriend and son.

By the time Owen and Cassian returned, the cake and been cut and was ready to serve. His needs met, Owen returned his father’s knee while Teresa passed out the slices.

Kellen leaned over to straighten the buttons on the boy’s shirt. “Maybe you should share a piece, at least until we know he likes it? There’s a lot of cinnamon on top.” Catching herself, she glanced toward Teresa, “I can’t wait to dig in. Owen’s just a wild card when it comes to spices.”

“He’ll like custard.” Cassian poured a measure onto his cake and slipped his son a bite, beaming with glee at the boy’s enthusiastic response.

“More, please?”

With a hearty laugh, Cassian obliged. “Save some for the rest of us, a stór.”

“I’ll get him a dish,” Teresa insisted, returning to the cupboard for a toddler-sized bowl.

Like his affinity for sisters, Cassian’s taste in desserts was unassailable. The apple cake was, indeed, one of the best things Kellen had ever tasted. With the sharp tang of stewed apple, warm blend of spices, and rich, velvety cream, she was starting to feel like she never wanted to leave Teresa’s kitchen.

They finished eating some twenty minutes later, and Grainne stepped into the other room to take a phone call. Increasingly sleepy, Owen was preparing for a second attempt at counting. Exchanging a polite smile with Teresa, Kellen gathered up the dishes from their side of the table and followed the older woman to the sink.

She’s lovely and kind, and she seems to like you so far. Make conversation, her subconscious urged as she set the plates on the tile countertop. “Cassian’s told me about his nephew and nieces -- your other grandchildren?”

“I have four. Well, five now,” she adjusted, watching Owen tug on Cassian’s fingers. “Jack’s going to be so excited to finally have a boy cousin. He was so disappointed when Ciara’s last one was another girl.”

Kellen nodded with a faint smile, feeling heavy with the reminder of how extensive the Keane family was. Even with Cassian’s many assurances that they were loving and supportive, she was still an outsider. Perhaps she always would be.

“I have to tell you, Kellen, you’re not at all like I imagined.”

Panic pierced through like a knife to the gut.

Kellen expelled a shallow breath, feeling like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. For the past hour, she’d been lulling herself into a sense of security. Sure, there had been some missteps, but they'd started to find their footing -- or so she’d thought. But really, Kellen, she chastised, Cassian’s incredible. Is it any wonder you don’t measure up?

This was her worst nightmare. She could deal with their judgment, but if they didn’t accept her? She couldn’t ask Cassian to choose between her and his family.

“Oh, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Teresa reached for Kellen’s arm, grasping it just above the wrist. “You know how he is: he’s got this constant need to swoop in and be a hero. I always worried he’d end up with a woman who was afraid of the world and needed rescuing all the time. That’s not what I see when I look at you, Kellen.”

For the second time that afternoon, Kellen bit back the words that came on impulse. Despite her frequent insistence to the contrary, she had been the kind of woman who’d needed rescuing. But with Cassian -- in many ways, because of Cassian -- that wasn’t the case anymore.

Lost to her thoughts, it took a few minutes to realize that Teresa had continued speaking. “You keep up with him. You challenge him.” A bony elbow prodded her side softly. “And you make him the happiest I’ve seen in ages. I’m glad he has you.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled in response, wondering how tentative that gratitude must be. For a mother, it would be all too easy to see her as the woman who’d broken her son’s heart. With a shiver, she considered how she would react when face to face with someone who’d hurt Owen in the same way.

She certainly wouldn’t be this civil.

“I’m really grateful to have him in my life again.” Glancing back to the man at the table, she couldn’t help the impulsive compliment. ”You must have been an amazing mother.”

“I did what I could," she agreed, nonchalantly. "Cassian said you don’t see your own parents very often?”

“Maybe once or twice a year. We’re hardly close.”

Turning back to the sink, Kellen expected to see judgment. She found only a genuine smile: a reflection of one she’d seen countless times before. “I’m sorry for that. I hope you know you’re always welcome here with us. Cassian knows this already, but we'll be getting together for dinner for Jack's birthday next week -- we'd love for you and Owen to join us if you'd like."

“I’d like that very much,” she assured, hardly giving the question a moment’s thought. She didn’t need time to consider; her eager anticipation was already proving that it was the right answer. Her eyes swung back to the table, imagining how much Owen was going to enjoy getting to know his cousins.

When they’d decided to go all in, to jump headfirst into this relationship without looking back, she’d thought that the family she had with Owen and Cassian would be all she ever wanted. But this afternoon was reminding her of something she been learning time and again since Cassian came into her life: what a delight it was to be proven wrong.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

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buckybeardreams · 3 years

Text

Unwanted

Chapters: 4/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 1,542

The first night when Steve didn't get a call from his soulmate he convinced himself that he was too tired when he got off his shift to call him, that maybe he didn't want to call him so late. Totally reasonable. Steve barely slept that night, staring at his phone for hours and willing it to ring before dragging his butt out of bed at the crack of dawn and heading over to Sam's.

Sam answered in his underwear, told Steve to keep his voice down when he started to excitedly tell him about his night, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Despite Sam's best attempts to keep Steve quiet they still woke his mate, who apparently was not a morning person. Though to be fair, Steve had woken him up at six o'clock and not many people were excited about being awake that early, especially if they didn't have to be.

Sam's Omega snapped at them to shut up when he entered the kitchen, ranted about how Steve was way too sunshiny for someone who was awake before the sun, and then stole Sam's coffee. Sam just smiled fondly at him and wrapped his arms around his waist, letting Brock lean up against him.

"So you must be Brock?" Steve asked, grinning. "I just found my mate too."

Sam smiled at Steve.

"I really am so glad for you, man. Next time call before you show up though."

Steve blushed and scratched the back of his neck.

"Sorry, Sam. I was just so excited and I had to tell you."

"It's all good."

Brock grumbled about damn early morning people and refilled the coffee cup before joining in on the conversation.

"So, what is he like?" Brock asked, feeling much more alive with coffee in him.

"He's perfect. Gorgeous dark eyes, dark curls, so tiny he's practically pocket size,” Steve said, clearly lost on the Omega he'd barely even spoken to. “He's the prettiest Omega I've ever seen."

Brock raised a brow at him.

"Saying that in the presence of another Omega is dangerous."

Steve blushed and stuttered out an apology that Brock waved off.

"Relax, I'm only teasing you. I'm not jealous of your mate," Brock said, rolling his eyes and pressing closer to Sam, turning to press his nose into his neck.

"I'm glad things are working out for you, man," Sam said, his thumb rubbing circles into Brock's hip. "When do we get to meet him?"

Steve shrugged.

"I don't know. I need him to call me first and then I'm thinking I'll take him out on a date and after..." Steve blushed, but grinned like a lovesick fool. "Well, maybe he'll let me mate him."

"I can't believe you haven't mated him yet," Brock said in disbelief. "You really just left without taking him home with you? What if he thinks you're not interested?"

"I gave him my number!" Steve defended. "Besides, he was working."

Brock rolled his eyes and Sam stepped in to steer the conversation towards less rocky waters. Steve continued to rave about his Omega and Sam nodded along indulgently.

"Yeah? He got a name? This pretty Omega of yours?" Brock mumbled into Sam's neck.

"Yeah, Anthony, " Steve said dreamily, his eyes sparkling.

Brock turned to look at Steve considering that.

"Yeah? Where'd you say you met him again?"

"A bar. He was the server there."

Brock nodded, fitting the pieces together. He hoped he was wrong, because he had a feeling that if he was right that Steve might not ever get that call he was hoping to get. Brock didn't say anything about it, because he didn't want to worry Steve, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence.

Which is why Brock called up Tony the moment Steve left. Tony was still ignoring him though and Brock groaned.

That fucking brat.

He couldn't ignore him forever.

*****

It turns out he could ignore him for a month though, because Tony was just too stubborn for his own good.

"Why don't you just call him?" Brock asked.

Tony had finally given in and invited Brock over.

"I can't. I threw away his number," Tony groaned.

"Stupid, stupid Omega," Brock teased. "Why would you do that? You can't hate Alphas so much that you'd throw away what is potentially your only chance at happiness?"

Tony pouted. He hated being teased.

"You're not helping," Tony whined, throwing a pillow at him.

Brock just laughed and caught the pillow.

"You'll find him somehow," Brock assured him. "When you do, just make sure you at least get his name."

Tony shook his head.

"Nope, if I ever see him again, I'm running in the opposite direction. Anyone who can make me feel this miserable is bad news."

Brock hummed, propping g the pillow up behind him and grabbing his beer to take a sip.

"You only feel miserable because he's gone."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not give him a chance to get close to me only so he can decide I'm not worth his trouble and leave me. Never knowing how good it could be is better than knowing and losing it."

"Oh, you poor thing," Brock cooed at the smaller Omega. "You're just terrified of getting hurt, but if you never take a chance then you'll never have a chance at happiness."

"Shut up," Tony grumbled. "I hate it when you say smart shit like that. It makes me feel stupid."

"Tony you are the farthest thing from stupid," Brock told him, but then he smirked. "Though you do stupid shit constantly, so maybe you are pretty stupid."

Tony rolled his eyes at his best friend's teasing.

"I will shove you off the couch if you don't stop making fun of me," Tony threatened.

Brock laughed.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop, but you have to promise me that you'll come over for dinner tomorrow night. Sam's best friend is coming too,” Brock said casually, like he wasn’t secretly hoping that Steve was Tony’s soulmate. “It'll be my first time hosting a dinner like a real adult. You have to be there."

Tony sighed dramatically, but nodded.

"You know I wouldn't miss it for the world."

*****

When Steve didn't get a call by the end of that first day he was starting to have his doubts, but he tried to remain positive. Maybe his soulmate was just busy or maybe he was shy and trying to work up the courage to call. By the end of the week Steve had all but given up hope on ever getting the call he was waiting for.

He knew that he could go back to his work, but that just seemed wrong. If the Omega didn't want to see him Steve wasn't going to force him to. He definitely wasn't going to pressure his little mate. He wasn't an asshole.

Steve was definitely heartbroken though. The feeling of rejection was steadily creeping up on him and threatening to consume him. He held it together pretty well that second week, but by the time the third week hit with no word from Tony, Steve was depressed and had completely given up on getting to have that happily ever after he wanted. He had also given up on showering, spent all day in bed but never seemed to sleep, and the only reason he hadn't starved was because Sam kept bringing him food.

Steve felt bad that Sam was spending his evenings consoling his best friend, instead of with his own mate. It really wasn't fair, but Steve was still grateful for it. He was miserable, but it was easier when Sam was there. It was easier when they were watching movies and laughing. Sam was good at distracting him when possible and being a shoulder to cry on when Steve couldn't hold it together and broke down into sobs.

Steve was miserable, but he still clung to the last shred of hope that maybe someday his soulmate would want him, would call him on the phone.

"Do you think he knew? Think he could just tell somehow?" Steve asked at one point.

"Tell what?" Sam asked.

"That I wasn't a real Alpha."

"Hey, don't think like that. You are a real Alpha. I don't care what others say. Alphas don't have to be domineering and controlling."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean everyone likes that. Maybe he could sense it and just knew that I could never be what he really wanted from an Alpha."

"Steve, stop, you can't think like that. You'll tear yourself apart if you keep thinking those kinds of thoughts. There's nothing wrong with the way you are and someday you'll meet someone who doesn't care about that."

"I don't want anyone but my soulmate." Steve pouted.

Sam sighed.

"I know you feel that way now, but someday you might feel differently. Maybe you'll meet a different Omega, or even an Alpha."

Steve cringed at that.

"I can't date an Alpha, Sam. That's just wrong. You know that Alphas can't be together. It's just not allowed."

"I'm not saying you have to, but you know I'd never judge you even if you did fall in love with an Alpha, or if you wanted to fool around with one or even just date around. Whatever you want, whatever makes you happy, that's what I want for you."

Steve whimpered, wiping tears off his cheeks.

"I just want my Omega."

For as miserable as Steve felt he still managed to pull himself together enough to get all cleaned up for the dinner that Sam and his Omega had invited him to. Brock had threatened to shove Steve into the shower himself if he showed up smelling like he hadn't showered in a week. Steve sure was glad that he'd showered and put on clean clothes when his soulmate showed up.

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lesmismignon · 3 years

Text

replying to anon messages

In this post I shall reply to the messages that have been sitting in my inbox for a regrettably long period of time. (It is loooooong. Please click “keep reading” at your own risk.)

I’m not a very good correspondent. I’m very sorry. I never know what to say right off the bat, and then during 2019 and 2020 when I was mostly on hiatus, I would just post a chapter or two and poof back out, and on Tumblr I would browse a few things and then poof back out. I do not have a good track record with social media and online presence in general. And with real life problems (mostly due to work), at worst it was impossible to muster even the strength to write. It was maddening.

But there is something about Hellsing and its fandom that reels me back in even when I am far away. Excuse me if this sounds cheesy, but for me fandoms are like the orbit of a comet. If it is something that you loved, and will continue to love even when you are not “active” on it, you will come back to it, someday, somehow. I’ll always be grateful to Hellsing, for being an inspiration to write, for being a bridge to some of my dearest relationships, for some of the kindest messages I’ve ever received in my life.

you freed yourself for a job that was not good for you and related to toxic people (Integra-like – demanding the respect you deserve). That is badass brave – and that doesn’t become less by that fact that maybe the next job you got is not the end of the journey but still part of the way. And you are brave by sharing your work, sharing your stories revealing parts of your emotional world to the outside – that is totally bad as too. I think you can be very proud of you, really. So maybe right now, you might be in situation that does not yet make you happy in way you deserve it. But you know- there is big chance that this is part of your journey to this place – imagine, in some time from now, you may be a successful (brilliant you are already) author and in an interview you say something like “yes, back there in 2016/17 I went through some tough times, that influenced the work very much I got this price for today”. So just in case you maybe cannot see it right now yourself – please allow me to tell you – you are brave and wonderful. And re. the brave decision you mentioned – I know I am not in the position to tell you anything – but please do not do any harm to you. So, thank you so much for your work you share with the world, my life is better with it. Take care for yourself, you deserve the best. (so sorry, I am really not good with words, hope you get my point….)

Anon, this was the kindest thing you could have ever done for little 2016/17 me. Oh God. Time does fly by so fast. I want you to know that I read this message a long time ago, and it gave me strength to go on, even though I’m not sure if I am so brave, to be compared to our lady Integra >< I hope you are happy and safe, wherever you are. I hope you know how brave and wonderful *you* are. Thank you so much.

just wanted to drop by and say I love all your fanfictions! You capture Integra and Alucard's characters so well; I LOVE it. Take all the time you need updating. You deserve it. And good luck at your job! <3

Ah, I probably changed jobs like twice since then. But they have been all good and meaningful in their own ways. I really did not mean to take THIS long in updating but I hope that you enjoyed the recent updates if you are still reading, thank you so much!

Why can I not write here? I just wanted you to know I am grateful for the reading joys that are 'Snow White' and 'Satis'...

Thank you Anon! I am so glad you enjoyed them!

I LOVE SATIS SO MUCH YOUR WRITING IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND FLOWY AND IT MAKES ME CRY PLEASE KEEP UP THE BRILLIANT WORK!!

Thank you Anon! You give me too much praise, but I shall indeed try to keep it up!

Hey so please don't take this as me pressuring you but I absolutely adore Satis! Is there any chance we might know when the next update is coming in? Totally understand if not- it sounds like work is taking a lot out of you and I understand that you're writing fan fiction purely for fun but DAMN IF I DON'T WANT TO READ MORE OF YOUR FIC OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH ASDFGHJKL!!!

I’m sorry it’s been ages! I’ll tell you my schedule(???) for this year instead! For this year of 2021 I really hope to average maybe at least 1 chapter a month but I don’t know how I’ll fare during the busy months. I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters if you are still reading!

@fierce-little-miana Can you believe that I have just noticed that I had given you any kudos for Snow White or Satis?! Sorry! Your stories are really worth all the praise we can give them. (so I corrected it) Have a nice day!

Thank you! I’m terribly sorry for this late reply. You’ve been so kind and sent so many lovely messages. Thank you again for each and every one of them!

@sinish-tem Hey sorryy for bothering you but. That ALutegra fic was AMAZING!!I LOVE IT!Amazing job sport<3

You’re not bothering me at all! Thank you old sport!

So I don't mean to rush you or be annoying or anything, but is Satis still happening? (plz plz say yes)

You’re not being annoying! I’m sorry it took so long! Yes :)

Hello! So, um, I have to ask... is Satis going to be updated? It’s just that it’s one of my absolute favorite stories by my absolute favorite author!

Thank you! I’m honored! I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters if you’re still reading!

Hi! Are you still around? Are you doing ok?

Yes, I am fine now, thank you :) I hope you are doing well, too!

@aniphine Hi! First off, I want to say that I absolutely love your writing style and am so looking forward to diving into all of your fics! I just finished Satis and it’s definitely in my Top 10 Fanfics ever, which is saying something! Thanks so much for writing it. On that note, I wanted to ask if you had plans to update it? If not, that’s totally cool - what you’ve written already is fantastic. But if so, I’d pledge my life to you in order to get a chance at reading more. 😆 Anyhoo, you’re awesome! 👋

Thank you so much! You are awesome too! I’m honored that Satis is in your top 10!!

@dontfuckingfollowmeifpornblog You still around?

I am now! Thank you!

@comixqueen Hello have I told you that I really love your Hellsing fics? ;u;/ They're among the best out there and I reread them often!

Thank you very much. That means a lot to me from you. Thank you for rereading, I’m always wary of my earlier writing but I’m glad if people still enjoy them.

I have never squealed higher than when I received the notification for the new chapter of Satis. You are a true blessing <3 thank you for your words

You are a blessing! Thank you so much!

Hello! I know you're not very active around here, but I just saw a trailer for a movie based on the letters of Vita and Virginia, and I was immediately reminded of Satis and the quotes you so expertly used in the narration, and I thought I might tell you in case you're interested in the movie (the title is literally Vita and Virginia) <3

Thank you Anon! I did see the trailer! I haven’t seen the movie yet though, but I will, eventually! I am so glad you think I did the quotes justice! It’s such a beautiful quote.

Not sure how to start this, might be a little bold, and yet; let me simply say that I am in love with your written works. In fact, so much so that I read it all again, and again. It never ceases to amaze. And as for you, the person behind it all, you do seem immensely precious as well. I hope that you have the most fantastic day, you deserve no less.

Anon, you are so very kind. Thank you so much for your lovely words. I am just an ordinary person unusually invested in a particular set of fictional characters xD and I am often late to things and a bad correspondent, but I must be doing something right if you’re sending me a message as lovely as this. Thank you again, I hope you are having fantastic days as well.

Honestly ive read your snow white fic years ago but I loved it insanely much and im about to read it again today ^.^

Thank you Anon! Ah, Snow White. I am very glad you still enjoy it. It is so old, and I wish I had the courage to edit it and spruce it up, or even update an extra or two...

Are you ever planning to continue Satis? I’m in love with that piece of work.

Thank you Anon! Yes! I hope you enjoyed the recent chapters!

My literal text to a friend of mine that's also a fan of Satis when I got the AO3 mail about the new chapter was: "NOW THEY'RE FINALLY STARTING TO BE *HAPPY* HOLIDAYS"

I am very glad I was able to bring you holiday cheer. Would it be bold of me if I say I aim to bring you non-holiday cheer as well, now? xD Thank you so much!

HEY JUST CAME HERE TO SAY I LOVE SATIS, OKAY BYYYYE

HELLO ANON! THANK YOUUUUU

#anon #reply

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girlsluvbot · 4 years

Text

MATCHMAKER pt.1

pairing: roseanne park × fem! reader

genre: fluff, angst

about:

matchmaker /ˈmatʃmeɪkə/

noun

a person who arranges marriages or initiates romantic relationships between others.

"an enthusiastic matchmaker who continually tried to pair off the difficult bachelor with unattached ladies"

a/n: i'm back!!! hehe this goddamn thing took so long to write, i both despise and adore it with every fibre of my being. enjoy my blood, sweat and tears in the form of a fic.

You loved your job. Very few people are lucky enough to be able to relate to that statement, and you were thankfully one of them. Hell, not only did you love your job, you were extremely good at it.

Since you were a little kid, writing nas always been your biggest passion. Wether it was writing short stories, poems or essays about the french revolution, you were always happy when you were able to put your feelings and thoughts onto paper. This was the main reason why you became the manager of your local newspaper during middle school, high school and eventually even university.

You've won multiple writing contests and even people who had no idea what your name was knew one thing about you: you were an amazing writer.

Years of practice, your impeccable set of skills and a recommendation letter from your university professor secured you a job at Vogue almost immediately. After all this hard work, you finally achieved everything you were looking for. You were truly happy.

Until this very moment.

"Well, I don't know," the woman sitting in front of you made a disgusted grimace, "it just lacks any emotion whatsoever. I've quite literally never read something so stiff and akward."

And here they were. The first words of criticism you have ever recieved. You were so used to everyone praising your work, you didn't know how to react or respond.

Three months ago, you would have never gotten into a similar situation: simply because there was nothing about your work to critize. But a lot has changed in the past few weeks, and not exactly in the good kind of way.

When you first joined Vogue, you were the head editor and journalist of the spread dedicated almost entirely to interviews. Thats what you did, talked to celebrities and wrote about them. And that's what you were good at, almost too good.

Just a year after working in the magazine you got promoted. You were still the head editor, but now of a completely different part of the journal: one dedicated to a single topic. Love. This was bad news, very bad news.

Why, you ask? The reason was fairly simple but no less embarrassing. Even as the head editor of a spread all about love, you've never experienced it yourself. In other words, you've never been in love. And how are you supposed to write about something you know nothing about?

Your boss looks at you and shakes her head. She reaches for the stack of papers on the table in front of her and starts reading, "For example; 'His lips brushed against mine. They were soft. The kiss was short but sweet. I loved it.' What the actual heck? I kiss my cat more passionately than this." she took off her glasses and started massaging the crook of her nose.

"Listen, Y/N, I've read your previous pieces and they were simply wonderful. But this? I don't even know what else to say without hurting your feelings."

"I'm so sorry. I know, it's just that I dont have much experience in said area." you don't finish the sentence, hoping she somehow gets the memo. She doesn't.

"What area?"

"Love. I dont have much experience with love." you blurt out the words that have been on your mind nonstop since the day of your promotion.

"Oh, you poor thing" she leans back in her chair, her eyes scanning your every move, "Isn't that unfortunate."

You nod your head slowly, trying not to get offended at her words full of pity.

"How are you supposed to write romance stories then? This won't work." the woman grabs a post-it note

"Are," your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, "Are you firing me?"

"Are you crazy? Of course I'm not," she hands you the piece of paper with a phone number, "We just have to improvise for the time being. Do you know Roseanne Park? She's the manager of our Matchmaker spread. You can be her assistant for the next few months, help her around, learn a thing or two. Hopefully your writing wont be so...bland after."

To be completely honest, you didn't handle changes well. Maybe that's why you were standing in front of your new, and hopefully temporary, bosses office, trying to build up the courage to knock on her door.

One of the reasons why you were so nervous was that Roseanne Park, the manager of the Vogue Matchmaker was insanely attractive. Admittedly, you did some online stalking the night before- okay, a lot of it. Here's the thing; you were a planner. Whether it came to your career, writing or even relationships, you liked to beprepared.

That's why after a few hours spent on the internet, you knew everything. The name of her sister (Alice Park), if the had a pet (yes, a fish named Joohwangie) and who her favorite band was (The 1975).

You weren't usually like this, so head over heels for a girl you haven't even met. But your writing, the reason you were here in the first place, didn't usually suck so after all, some things really do change easily.

Just as you reached for the dark wooden door in front of you, it opened before your hand could even touch it's sleek surface.

"Oh!" the tall woman stopped in her tracks. Thanks to your thorough internet digging, you instantly recognized her. Roseanne Park. Your new boss. A 'matchmaker' if you will.

"You must be Y/N! I've heard that you're going to be my assistant for a bit." your cheeks heated up for no apparent reason. Did she know the reason why you got transferred here so quickly? Every molecule in your body wished and prayed to every possible god out there that she didn't.

"Yeah, that's me!" you finally composed yourself enough to speak, but that didn't mean your voice didn't sound like one of a twelve year old boy going through puberty- high pitched and squeaky.

You examined her face more in depth, and realized quite a few things:

She was somehow even prettier in real life. How? you had no idea. Some people just really won the genetics lottery, you thought.

Her hair was red. Like undeniably, undoubtedly red. In all of the pictures you found yesterday it was either brown or black, so this change caught you off guard. You couldn't complain though, because this girl looked like a hotter version of Ariel with a much better sense in fashion (and music).

"Have you been standing out here for too long?"

"Oh no, I just arrived." lying has never been so easy.

"Great! I'm gonna go downstairs to grab a package but you can look around the office while I'm gone," she opened the door a bit to let you walk in.

You did as she told you and entered the room. The door closed behind you without you noticing, the only thing you could focus on was this girl's office. It looked just like you would imagine heaven to look like- full of light, white furniture and expensive looking leather couches.

There were pictures everywhere: a dozen of four young girls (one of them being Roseanne), a few more of her with famous celebrities and one of a familiar looking face- her sister.

You carefully walked towards the table in the middle of the room, not wanting to damage anything. You noticed quite a bit of unexpected clutter, and above everything a print of the brand new Vogue issue. A woman on the cover flashed you a beautiful smile as you picked it up. The headline stated: Kim Jisoo talks acting, NYFW and love.

You flipped the glossy magazine pages to find the spread dedicated to said interview and noticed just what you were looking for: the author of the article. The credits at the bottom of the page revealed a nice surprise- Author; Roseanne Park.

"Well what do you think? Is it a good article?" your soul almost left your body when you realized who was standing next to you. You quickly put the magazine down, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to touch your stuff. I just saw the cover and..."

"Oh my gosh, are you kidding? That's completely okay, I don't mind." she pointed to the journal, "That interview is actually one of the favorite pieces I ever wrote, and not just because it's about Jisoo. Plus, my friend took the pictures, so it was extra fun." She opened the spread again and pointed to a name credited right next to hers, Photographer; Lalisa Manoban.

"Oh wow. I've seen her pictures before, they're really good. I with I could take photos like that. Seriously."

Here's one thing to note: when you're nervous, you ramble. Like a lot. Some people would say its better than staying silent, but let's be honest- it's like stepping into a puddle instead of mud. Not a disaster, but there's still plenty to complain about.

Thankfully, Roseanne only giggled, "I know exactly what you mean. I hope you'll get to work with her someday."

You both stared at the magazine spread for a second before Roseanne broke the silence.

"But now, let's get to bussines. Sit down please, this might take a while," she pointed tkwards one of the leather couches you noticed earlier and took a seat at the other side of the table.

"So, as you probably already know, my name is Roseanne Park. As a manager of Matchmaker, my job is to read these letters," she grabben a handful of papers for emphasis, "and respond to them, give advixe basically. The title 'Matchmaker' comes from the fact that the majority of the letters talk about love. Any questions so far?"

When you shook your head no, she continued, "As my assistant, your job is fairly simple. You're going to sort and read through the hundreds of letters I recieve weekly and pick the most interesting ones for me to feature. And occasionally, you might accompany me to a few interviews. Sounds good?"

You slowly nodded, processing all the new information. Letters, answers, interviews and a hot boss. That doesn't sound so bad.

"Great. So Y/N," she suddenly stood up, "Would you mind going with me to Subway? I'm starving."

By the time you were finished with lunch, you had a new point to add to your list of realizations about your new boss:

She loves food, and by loves I mean LOVES.

The moment you arrived at the restaurant, food was the only thing she would talk about. She told you about what she had for dinner and breakfast, what kind of snacks she hid in the office and what kind of salad she was getting alongside a baguette.

After she actually managed to get a bit of calories into her system (thanks to a foot-long chicken turkey sandwich) the conversation finally got more interesting.

Don't get me wrong, you could listen to this girl talk for hours, no matter the topic. But after listening to a thirty minute long monologue about why pineapple pizza is the best thing ever invented, even you have reached your limit.

"So," you start, in an effort to break the ice, "how long have you been working at Vogue?"

She squints at the toast in front of her, trying to remember, "About five years? Yeah, it's gonna be five years in May."

"Oh wow, that's impressive."

She tilts her head, "Is it? I mean, when you work as often as I do, time just goes by. I don't even remember the last time I went out with my friends to discuss something that wasn't work related."

You pout, regretting the choice to ask her about work.

"But at the same time, I love what I do so I can't really complain. What about you though? Why did you decide to become a journalist?"

"Oh, I started just a year ago. And I studied literature, so I guess becoming a journalist made sense."

"Why did you study literature then? There's so many other better paying jobs out there."

"I don't think anyone works in such a field for money, that's for sure," you try to lighten the atmosphere, "Well, my mom wanted to become a writer, but she got pregnant before she could finish her book and she's been pretty much busy ever since. I guess her love for books kind of rubbed off on me."

Roseanne nods, to let you know she's listening. "I'm glad you and your mom have such an important aspect of your lives in common. My mother wanted me to become a lawyer, I doubt she's ever read even a single fiction book in her entire life."

"What does she think about your job now?"

Her lips tighten and she crosses her arms. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since," her eyes seem empty, their signature spark gone. You can tell you struck a nerve. "I haven't talked to her since I moved out."

"Well, I'm sure that she's proud of you," you can't help but add.

Rosie lets out a dry laugh, "You don't know my mother then," she slowly pushes her plate away, "I think I'm full so I'm gonna head back to the office."

Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. You learned this the hard way.

You head back after your lunch break ends, alone. Even though Roseanne walked you through everything she expects you to help around with, you know that your job doesn't start and end with sorting through letters.

You softly knock on the office door before heading in. She's already sitting there, behind her desk. Without looking up from her laptop, she scoffs, "You're late."

"It's just five minutes," you shrug, not taking her tone seriously. Finally, she raises her sight to meet yours. Even without her saying anything, you understand. Do not play around with fire.

You mumble an apology and quickly run to the small hallway at the other side of the room which leads to your own (significantly smaller) office.

"What makes you think I'm done?" Turning around, you notice that her eyes are piercing through your back. Unsure of what she expects you to do, you walk back in front of her.

"While you were out there doing god knows what for two hours," you resist the urge to roll your eyes, "I already did your job and sorted through the letters. You're welcome."

She walks around the table and pushes a thick stack of papers against your chest, "That means you'll be doing my job and write replies to them. Can you handle that?"

You try not to show her how terrified you are. You? Giving relationship advice? Sounds like a recipe for a royal disaster. Instead, you rise your chin and smile, "Yes ma'am."

She visibly winces at the formal title, but still nods and returns to her seat. You take this as a sign to head back to your spot and do your job. Well, her job for now.

You sit down calmly and shuffle through the papers, trying not to look too freaked out. What the heck are you going to do now?

A quick peek at your boss reveals that she's either busy with work or just flat out ignoring you.

Trying to remain collected, you pick out the top letter from the pile. The first paragraph reads:

Hi Rosie! I'm a huge fan of your Matchmaker spread :) I never thought I'd be the one writing you a message but here we are hahaha. (Let's hope this gets featured!)

You roll your eyes but continue reading,

Me and my boyfriend have been dating for just about two months and I would describe our relationship as 'lowkey'. We first met at a bar a last year but we surprisingly didn't immediately hit it off.

With a raised eyebrow you skip over a page full of sappy descriptions and relationship stories, before getting to the end of the letter.

So what should I do? He's really sweet but I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet his family just yet.... please help! Love, Courtney.

You fold the paper back to it's original state with a quiet gulp. What on earth did you get yourself into?

#blackpink #blackpink scenarios #park chaeyoung #rosé #rosé fluff #rosé angst #rosé smut #rosé x reader #girlfriend rosé #blackpink rosé #blackpink rose #rose angst #rose fluff #blckpink fluff #blackpink angst #blackpink smut #roseanne park #rosé park

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yoon-kooks · 4 years

Text

Witch Hazel- Pt.6

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: i’ve had mixed feelings about the tumblr fic community as of late :/ but heres something to read🥺

Holding the boy’s pinky in your own, you stare once more at his drawing of you with your guitar and flower crown—a superhero to those whom you shared your music with.

No. Your music hasn’t saved anyone. You’ve never been a hero to anyone. If anything, you’re the one who needs to be saved. You’d always thought you could grow strong enough to save yourself if you just closed yourself off from the world and did everything on your own. But in the end, that only seemed to hurt you more.

You should’ve known. It’s okay to ask for help, to reach out, to let him in.

“A few years ago, I had a thought. It wasn’t a very smart thought, but I decided I wanted to share part of myself with the world. I thought about the different ways I could go about that, but the way that made the most sense for me was music,” you say, finally letting go of Jungkook’s pinky and making yourself awfully comfortable on a bed that doesn’t belong to you. “So I auditioned for Polar Entertainment. Not to be an idol, but to be a songwriter.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but he nods as if it’s not a shock to him, as if he saw it as “a Y/N thing to do.” At the same time, his gentle eyes wait for you to continue, curious to know what’ll happen next.

“Do you remember the song you heard me singing the other day in the music room?”

Jungkook cracks a smirk and starts singing your song word for word in a surprisingly in-tune whisper. Oh, he remembers it alright, and he’ll apparently never let you live it down. He doesn’t stop until you throw one of the balled-up blankets at his face.

“That was the first time I picked up my guitar and sang that song since being rejected at the audition.”

“I can imagine how scarring that would be. Rejection,” he shudders at the word, though you’re sure he knows little about the feeling with art skills as professional as his. “They really didn’t like you though?”

“They liked certain parts of me.” Your vocals, your beauty, your body. “But not the ones that mattered.” Your music, your creativity, your personality. You.

“That’s their loss,” Jungkook says in the midst of a yawn, practically inaudible. But you heard him.

“Maybe they had a point,” you say, looking up at the ceiling. “Because when I look back to that time, it was quite foolish of me to believe my music would reach anyone when it came from a place of desperation, not my heart. The song was a plea for help, not one that would save others.”

“What made you suddenly sing it again after all this time?”

You grab hold of the boy’s hand and form yet another pinky promise. “Promise you won’t laugh at me for my reason.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he says with the straightest face. He’s ready to burst out laughing again and you know it.

“Then I won’t tell you.” With a hmph, you bury yourself under the fluffiest blanket. You wonder how he would’ve reacted if you told him it was that dang jk.seagull and his fanfic that gave you the courage to sing again, to go back to your roots, to follow your love of creating music. It’d obviously sound ridiculous to admit it out loud, but the joy you feel from reading Witch Hazel is what reminds you of the very thing you want to provide others with—happiness.

And that’s perhaps all the encouragement you needed to start sharing your music again.

“I won’t tell you what it was exactly that made me do it, but I’ll tell you why,” you peek your head back out of the blankets to see the boy still waiting patiently for an answer. “I wanted to move on… from the failure I faced that day. That way, I can finally become that superhero you speak of.”

You place the drawing of your superhero self onto the nightstand so that it doesn’t get crinkled up on the bed. No, she’s not a superhero yet. But she will be someday.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You better not tell anyone,” you remind him. “This isn’t something I share with other people. Ever.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he assures you, with not only his words but also his warmth.

“Good.” You smile whilst closing your eyes. You meant to tell him that he could confide in you too, but the warmth pulls you into a deep slumber before you could do so.

It’s been a minute since you’ve awoken in someone else’s bed, though this is the first time you aren’t all wrapped up in their embrace. Rather, half the boy’s body is hanging off the side of the bed for dear life while you’re right smack in the middle, all bundled up in one of the blankets.

If you wanted to, you could push him over the edge with the tiniest tap of your foot��that’s how close he is to falling. But as tempting as it would be to get even with the boy who teases you to no end, you opt to quietly check your phone without disturbing him.

To your surprise, you have two new notifications: a text from Seokjin earlier this morning and a late-night update from jk.seagull posted sometime after you had passed out. You’ve always been the type to take care of work obligations before indulging in guilty pleasures, so you open Seokjin’s text first.

6:04AM jinnie “so jimin’s manager reached out to me”

6:05AM jinnie “and you want to collab with jimin?”

7:12AM Y/N “oh yeah i asked him to have his manager contact you”

7:13AM Y/N “but i guess i forgot to tell you LOL”

It’s not that you forgot. You were just hesitant to tell your manager about it yourself. Because if possible, you’d like to minimize your own company’s involvement in this top-secret scheme of yours.

7:15AM jinnie “are you up to something?”

7:15AM Y/N “mayhaps”

7:16AM Y/N “but dont tell boss lady pls”

7:17AM jinnie “shes going to find out one way or another”

7:19AM Y/N “thats true 🤔 ”

7:20AM Y/N “well tbh knowing her, she’d probably approve of the collab anyway since it should clear up those dating rumors while (hopefully) appealing to jimin’s fanbase”

7:21AM Y/N “just dont tell her the logistics of the collab”

7:21AM jinnie “what are you scheming lmao”

7:22AM Y/N “youll see”

7:22AM jinnie “ 😒 dont get me or yourself in trouble Y/N”

7:23AM Y/N “i wont! i promise! 🥺 ”

7:24AM jinnie “okay fine”

7:25AM jinnie “ill arrange a meeting with jimin and his manager to discuss everything formally”

As you move on to the more exciting notification on your phone, you see that the sleeping Jungkook has slipped several inches closer to falling flat on his face. Maybe you’ll save him from his impending doom. Maybe you won’t. But that’ll have to wait until after you see what jk.seagull had to say on his blog.

“do you ever think back to that one time in math camp when a little girl screamed in your face that she hated math and wanted to become a musician instead? apparently she somehow confused ‘musician’ with ‘mathematician’ LMAO”

You aren’t sure what provoked the silly seagull guy to share such a random thought, but you do get a good laugh out of it. After all, you can totally relate as someone who went to math camp one summer despite knowing in your heart what you truly wanted to do-

Wait.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed, half-urgent tone, though calling his name wouldn’t be what actually wakes him from his slumber. “I think I know who the seagull guy is.”

Thud. You swear on your life you didn’t lay a finger on the boy when he fell, despite all the devilish thoughts you had about it earlier. He fell on his own. You’re innocent. Therefore, you have a right to laugh.

“Are you okay?” you snicker, peering down from the bed at the dazed boy. He might have been the biggest klutz for rolling off the bed and stumbling around to find his glasses, but holy shit. His wild bedhead and scattered blankets across the floor make it seem as though the two of you had a lot more than just an innocent heart-to-heart in his bed last night.

“I’m fine,” he stretches his arms and combs the bedhead out. Yes, he is fine. “But, uhh, what’s this about that seagull guy?”

“I think I know him.” You expect Jungkook to be as excited as you are, but he just seems kind of puzzled—perhaps from his lack of sleep.

“…and how did you come to that conclusion…?” he asks. Or maybe he doesn’t believe you.

“You didn’t see the post! Look at the post.” You join the boy down on the floor and make yourself at home there with your phone and some of the fallen blankets. He leans over your shoulder to read the infamous post you won’t shut up about.

“Math camp?” Jungkook continues to squint at the cryptic message before chuckling. “Also, did that girl seriously confuse musician with mathematician?”

“Stop laughing! That dumbass was me.” Now you wish you had kicked his ass off the bed.

He stops laughing, not because you told him to but because he’s mildly shook. “What?”

You take a deep breath in because you know you’re setting yourself up to be clowned for the rest of your fucking life. “When I was like ten, I told my parents that I wanted to be a mathematician, thinking that word meant musician. So they signed me up for camp that summer.”

“Did you ever stop to think that mathematician has the word math in it and not mu-”

You interrupt the boy’s unwelcomed commentary with an air-punch to his guts before continuing on as if nothing happened. “I was so excited until I got there. It was absolutely mortifying to learn that it was a math camp, not a music camp.”

“I like this story,” he nods with his arms guarding himself in anticipation of another air-jab as you square up.

“Still, I tried to make the best out of the situation since I was actually kind of good at math,” you say. “The camp director even told me I’d make a great math professor one day.”

“I can’t imagine you as a math professor.” He settles down with all the chuckling.

“I couldn’t either, so I ran off to an empty room where I thought I could escape without anyone finding me,” you soften your tone. “But somehow a crying, wandering boy found me.”

“Was it the seagull?”

“Maybe. All I remember was hearing music playing from somewhere outside. I sang along as a way to comfort and distract myself from the whole math situation, but it seemed to cheer up the boy as well.”

“Your voice does have that effect, you know.”

“He told me the same thing.” You can’t help but smile a little at the compliment. “But in that moment, it felt like my dream had a purpose beyond fueling my own desires. And I needed to share it with someone. Anyone.”

“So you shared it with the boy?”

You nod. “I told him my dream was to be a mathematician, but he knew what I meant.”

“Did he at least clown you first?”

“He did. He laughed right in my face, and at first I thought he was a jerk for making fun of my dream. But after he kindly taught me the difference between musician and mathematician, I announced my actual dream to him and him alone.”

“And how’d he respond?”

“He said it was cool beans.”

“He said cool beans?”

“Those were his exact words, yes.”

“And that was it?”

“That’s all I can remember.”

“So you don’t even remember his name or anything?”

“We never introduced ourselves,” you shake your head. “I don’t remember his face either because it was covered by a hood and long hair.”

“That’s too bad,” Jungkook sighs. “I bet it really was that seagull guy after all.”

“I have a feeling it was him, too.”

It would be nice and awfully romantic if you had somehow crossed paths long ago with the very seagull who continues to inspire your craft with his own. But even if that isn’t the case, you’re content with having that memory and entrusting it with another boy who has done nothing but lift you up.

You lean yourself gently against the Jungkook’s shoulder as you slip your phone back into your pocket, debating on your next course of action. The two of you should be getting ready for class, but that doesn’t sound very appealing. There are other things you’d much rather be doing, like maybe thanking the boy for lending his ear. But for some reason, it’s still difficult for you to say those two simple words of gratitude.

Perhaps it’s difficult because there’s a lot more you’d say than just “thanks man.”

“Can we just cut class and get coffee instead?” Yes, you’ll thank him for his service by treating him to coffee. Unless…? What if this is just your subtle way of asking the boy out on a date? What if he says no because you’ve already spent way too much time with him in the past 24 hours? What if he hates coffee? What if he-

“We should probably go to class to turn in our project, yeah?” Jungkook brings up a good point. But the thing is, you don’t really have your priorities straight at the moment and your mind has only two things consuming it: coffee and boy. “But we can get coffee after class.”

“Ooh, good, because there’s this one coffee shop I want you to try!” You chirp up despite your nonexistent dose of morning caffeine. “It’ll be my treat as thanks for… letting me hog your bed.”

“Oh right... that,” Jungkook hops to his feet and starts tidying up said bed. You help by picking up and folding all of the blankets. “I nearly froze and fell to my death because of that, you know.”

“I saw,” you bite your lip, trying to mask any naughty thoughts that come to mind. Because next time, if there is in fact a next time, you won’t let the boy freeze.

By the time art class ends, the weight of the dreaded group project has been lifted and your craving for coffee begins to settle in once more. And apparently, the hunger and excitement is radiating off you because someone has the audacity to make a comment about it.

“Why does your face look like that?” Taehyung teases, but you’re mildly offended.

“Because I’m getting coffee from my favorite café. That’s why,” you hiss but there’s still a hidden glow about you and your excitement. “Coffee is to me as girls are to you, Taehyung.”

“Ooh, speaking of girls, do any cute girls work there?” He strokes his wise man beard. “Maybe I’ll tag along.”

“I don’t fucking know.” And even if you did know, you wouldn’t say yes.

“How boring,” he yawns while nudging the boy next to him. “Hey Jungkook, wanna go on a double date with me? I met a pair of gamer girls, but I don’t know all the nerdy gaming stuff that you know. And think about it, this could be the first time you get laid since-”

“Actually, Jungkook’s getting coffee with me,” you interrupt. And if you had been brave enough to look up at the boy as you spoke, you would have seen the healthy pink radiance on his cheeks.

“Oh, so the two of you are dating all of a sudden?” Taehyung nods, as if he had hit the mark.

Neither you or Jungkook give an immediate answer, probably due to the unspoken yet very apparent shift in dynamics between the two of you as of late. Yes, you’ve developed certain feelings for the boy, but no, you aren’t technically “dating.” You just hope he’s on the same page as you.

“It’s just coffee,” you want to say, but it comes out of Jungkook’s mouth instead. And even though you would’ve said the same exact thing, it hits a little different hearing it from him.

At the same time, coffee is coffee and Jungkook is Jungkook. You need to remind yourself that your craving for coffee with the boy will be satisfied, regardless of whether it’s a date or not. After all, “dating” is not an option for an idol who should only be focusing on her music and fans.

“Which drink would you recommend?” Jungkook asks as you lead him in the direction of the café.

“If you like coffee, all of the drinks are good in my humble opinion,” you say, though you realize you should probably give the boy a few specific suggestions to make his decision a little easier. “You can get a standard mocha or latte if you want something simple. Or, their signature hazelnut coffee is really really good. Or if you want something iced, you should try the cold brew because it’s literally the most refreshing dose of caffeine ever. Oh! But if you’re into something more plant-based, I suggest the maple oat-”

“You’re not narrowing down my options if you recommend the entire menu, Y/N,” the boy chuckles at your coffee enthusiast behavior.

“Well, here’s my thought process: if we go at least once a week after class, you can eventually try every drink on the menu by the end of the school year. Not including all the different types of milk options though.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified that you even bothered to do that calculation.” His eyes are bigger and brighter than the sun. “But that must mean you really like coffee then, huh?”

“Of course! Is that even a question?” The snobby coffee enthusiast jumped out real quick. But even beyond the coffee, you did the calculation to see how long your little coffee not-dates with the boy could last before you have to return to your idol obligations. “You like coffee too, right?”

“Not really,” he sighs. Your jaw drops. Who the does he think he is? “Are there any tea options? Or like a banana milk or something?”

“You can’t just walk into a coffee shop and not order coffee.” Is this guy for real? No, he’s just fucking with you. Probably. “I better start reevaluating who I hang out with,” you say with a sarcastic hmph.

“I’m kidding, kind of.” He doesn’t do a very good job of reassuring you of that. “I like… coffee.”

“That hesitant pause doesn’t sit well with me, Jeon.” You raise an eyebrow at the suspicious boy. It feels nice to tease him for once. “Why are you grabbing coffee with me if you don’t love it?”

“I just curious about this coffee place,” he nudges you, “since someone seems to really enjoy it.”

So it’s because of you…

“Good to know I’ve successfully peer pressured you into consuming caffeine,” you hum, playing it off as if his words weren’t absorbed right into your heart. It was never about coffee.

It’s about you and him.

The thought of that makes your heart scream a little, so you hide your flustered face behind your phone as the two of you approach the coffee shop. You have an unread text from your manager.

2:35PM jinnie “good news”

2:36PM jinnie “i set up a meeting with jimin and his manager in an hour”

You stop in your tracks. That’s not good news. Well actually, it is good for your top secret collab. But the timing of it all is anything but good.

“Are you searching up the menu online? Oh wait, you already have the entire menu memorized from A to Z.” He thinks he’s funny. Now is not the time, Jeon. His teasing smile doesn’t disappear until the distress is written all over your face.

How do you cancel a not-a-date date without a proper explanation? How can you do that to a boy who has only ever done you right? The thing is, you don’t have to hurt him.

You can cancel the meeting, you can bail out on the collab, you can disappear from the idol world altogether if you choose to do so. And if you didn’t want to go that far, you could instead tell the boy of your deepest and darkest secret, of your idol identity, and he would surely understand your reasons for having to leave so suddenly for work.

You could do any of those things, but you decide not to. You won’t allow yourself to make such a rash decision, even if it’s the right one. So you decide to keep the meeting, you decide to keep your idol self hidden in the shadows, and you decide to abandon the boy.

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #btsboulangerie #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook #bts #bangtan #witch hazel

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marmolady · 3 years

Text

Livita: Part Two

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART ONE and PART THREE.

Word Count: 3545

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr @saivilo @greengroove

San Trobida, March 2023

The months initially dragged by; the nervous wait for those vital early milestones agonising. Life had taught Estela that nothing good ever came easily; at any moment this could all turn to tragedy-- she woke up each morning with no expectation that she wouldn’t have lost the baby by the next. Taylor was far more secure in her optimism, though at times it did threaten to crumble. Some five weeks in, the pair were married, officially, in the grounds of Catalyst International’s new San Trobidan resort, surrounded, of course, by their extended family. At the end of the night, Estela had said ‘screw you’ to fate, and confided her condition to her tio, who had wept with joy. His belief in her, the support unyielding as always, did wonders to help her through those most vulnerable days.

After the twelve week scan, there was a joint exhale of relief, and the reality that this was happening at last began to set in. Through those early months, home was San Trobida with Tio Nicolas. In time, Estela and Taylor would return to La Huerta, where they had always planned to raise their child, close to Aleister and Grace’s own little family, and to Diego and Varyyn. Estela would not be fit to travel for a whole lot longer, though, so the time spent with her uncle was precious. While in San Trobida, Taylor was faced with a rush to establish her youth programmes during the brief window in which she’d be available with her full attention. The country was in the midst of a great rebirth, its people boldly stepping out from the shadows left by the cruel dictatorship that the revolutionaries had brought to its knees. To be able to play her own part in that story was, to Taylor, an immense honour, and a responsibility she took very seriously. Those fleeting months were intense, with meetings on top of meetings and enough networking to test even her people skills. Once the baby arrived, everything else would take a back seat, and her role would be as a part-time counsellor specialising in LGBTQ+ youth, and a mentor to students-- all of which she could carry out from their La Huerta home.

Estela had slowly dialed back her role with Catalyst International-- with both herself and Aleister on parental duties, delegation had become increasingly necessary. She kept up with the few bits and pieces that interested her, primarily assistance and scholarships for San Trobidan students, which allowed her to work nicely in tandem with Taylor, but anything else could be someone else’s problem. Staying with her uncle, a sense of peace had descended upon Estela. Her body gradually changed-- and morning sickness had plagued her-- but she took it in her stride.

The front door creaked as Taylor strode through. “Honey, I’m home!” She found Estela sitting cross-legged on the couch, leafing through a collection of baby sewing patterns. “Hey, are you feeling better?”

“Better. You didn’t have to come home….”

“As if I need an excuse to be with you.” Taylor crossed the room, and sat herself beside her wife. “I finished what I needed to get done. So, I got myself back to where I needed to be.”

Estela huffed happily. “I won’t complain. Maybe we could work on that blanket some more. You know how much of a kick Tio gets out of the sight of me knitting.”

“Yeah,” Taylor giggled. “He laughs, but I’m pretty sure he knows you are more than capable of disemboweling someone with those needles if a threat came up.”

“Of course. A spear could never be so subtle.”

They laughed together, then Estela took Taylor’s hands. “Actually, I wanted to share something with you, in my room. We can knit at the same time.”

Estela’s old room had changed little since she was a teenager; it was a cramped but cosy space, decked out with just a few shelves of childhood possessions and faded photographs upon a narrow dresser. Nowadays, alongside the charred-edged photo of a young Estela on the beach with her mother and uncle, was another of Estela-- now older, far more battle-scarred and world-weary-- on the very same beach, her arms around a smiling Taylor. Sat on that worn single bed, Estela could enjoy the comfort of familiarity as she carried on her journey toward a great unknown… and with her wife beside her, she found the courage to face the shadows that crept in along with those memories.

“Gordita, I made you up some of your horrible patacones,” Nicolas announced, pushing open the bedroom door with a shoulder as he presented a large plate. Since the pregnancy had been announced, Estela had been his gorda, with no care paid to how small her bump might actually be. At six months along, though, the belly was living up to that new nickname. “I despair. You get rid of one dictator, and suddenly we have jumped-up young people thinking they can eat peanut butter and jelly with their patacones. Is this the terrible price of freedom? Have I made a grave error?”

Estela snorted with laughter, taking the plate as her uncle kissed her forehead. “And yet you made these up for me; I must be very loved.”

“Always, mija. But you should notice there are some with mango salsa for your poor wife. I won’t have her suffer for your insanity.”

Taylor smiled, gratefully taking a patacone.Nicolas has been doting on the both of them relentlessly since the news had been broken-- Taylor didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so happy. When the time finally came for them to leave for La Huerta, it would be a great wrench. “Cheers! You’re the best.”

“I’ll have that in writing, Taylita.” Nicolas’ eyes twinkled as he looked over his nieces. The time was fast approaching that they would be on their way again, ready to start the greatest of adventures. He would miss them so. La Huerta had never been a draw to him-- he’d not visited once-- but there was no doubt in his mind that even his stubbornness would have to concede once Estela had that baby in her arms. There was not a force on heaven or earth that could keep him away. “Okay, gorda. I will leave you to it. I’m sure you’ll let me know if you have any other culinary abominations you want me to whip up.”

“Thanks, Tio.”

Alone together in their small sanctuary, Estela and Taylor cuddled close. Taylor braved a nibble of one of Estela’s controversial patacones and admitted that Nicolas had a point. Those things just weren’t right.

“I’m with Tio,” she said. “Our little nene has played havoc on your taste buds.”

Estela chuckled, more forced than she’d have liked. There was something else on her mind. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Hey. Are you okay? You had something you wanted to show me?”

For a moment, Estela considered changing her mind. It had been over a decade that she’d avoided this, what was to say that now was suddenly the right time? The bump of a little foot up against her ribs gave her clarity. She wanted to show this to her baby someday; that meant she had to brave it. She pulled up her laptop and placed it on the bedside table, then rummaged in a drawer, taking out a disc.

“It’s… it’s our old home videos.” She took a deep breath. “Tio put it on a DVD ages back to make sure we didn’t lose it, and he had an extra copy made for me. You know, just in case I ever….” Her cheeks became pink. “I… I haven’t watched this for a long time.” How long, she didn’t say, but she didn’t doubt that Taylor would know, understand.

Taylor squeezed her wife, her own pulse quickening. She knew this was huge. “I would love to watch with you. So much. But only if you’re really ready.”

“I think sometimes, the closest thing you’re ever going to get to being ready is wanting to be.” Estela offered a wobbly smile as she picked up on Taylor’s concern. “Mi amor, I’m okay. I’m doing this with you.”

She leaned into Taylor as the DVD began to play. Then came a voice that made her heartbeat quicken.

“Hola Nicolas!” Olivia said, waving with one hand, while she supported the small infant Estela with the other. “Here she is! This is your niece. This is Estela.”

Taylor felt Estela’s hand clench around the bottom of her shirt, clinging on for comfort. She placed her own hand on top and gently squeezed. I’m here.

They watched as Olivia placed the infant in a bassinet, then picked up the camera to give a tour of her home.

“So, this is the first place I lived; my mom’s apartment in Colombia,” Estela explained, her voice shaking at first, then steadying. This… didn’t hurt as much as she’d anticipated. If anything, it was a comfort. The last pieces of film she’d seen of her mother had been that horrifying footage in the Elysian, and the VR warning message from Olivia’s office in the MASADA complex. This was Estela’s mother as she knew her, the person she’d been missing so painfully. There was the inevitable pang of longing as she looked at that face, but the wash of memories made her seem closer than she’d been for so many years. “It was a few months before she had everything sorted so we could move to Tio Nicolas’ place, so Mom made a videotape to send him. A friend at the lab she worked at gave her the camera; it was so Tio could see the new baby, but we used it a long time after that.”

With the apartment tour complete, the camera was placed down on some unseen table or stand, and Olivia came back into the frame, picking up baby Estela and cradling her in her arms.

“If you’re lucky, you might get a smile out of her,” Olivia said, grinning as she gently tickled Estela under her chin. “The twentieth of July was her first real smile. You’re going to laugh at me, but I cried. Maybe you’ll get it when you meet her. She’s just so, so beautiful. I swear I’m addicted to this girl.”

Taylor snuggled under Estela’s arm, and watched, entranced, as the baby on the screen grew and changed under the loving care of her mother, and then uncle as well.

“Wow, Tio Nicolas looks different!” she commented, to Estela’s chuckle. Time, unimaginable stress, and facial hair could do that to a person. It was impossible not to smile as she watched the young Nicolas bouncing his little niece on his foot. That he’d be utterly, totally smitten with Estela’s own child had to be the surest thing in the world. Taylor saw on that screen an image of a dream come true, a future that now lay before her and Estela. God, could I be any more clucky right now?

“That’s going to be us, Taylor. Our own little family.”

Instinctively, Taylor put her hand to Estela’s bump, stroking it. Her family with her soulmate; it wasn’t what she’d been made for, but she was certain it was what she was meant for.

“I’m going to be someone’s mom. When I think about it, it’s just… incredible.” She cuddled in close, and gently kissed Estela’s cheek and forehead. “It means so much that you shared this with me.” She gestured to the screen. That had taken a whole lot of bravery. “Watching this… I see so much of you when I see your mom.”

“She would have been an amazing abuelita,” Estela said softly. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Her mother’s sacrifice had brought her to Taylor. This new family would carry a great deal of Olivia Montoya’s influence, though she’d never know. “Thank you. I know it’s silly for me to say this, but I really appreciate you saying that. I’m gonna do her proud.”

The child on the screen was older now, toddling around the so-familiar house on stumpy legs. She held in her arms a soft doll.

“Oh-- that’s Babydoll. I was… creative at naming things when I was two. Mami gave him to me on my birthday, and I just took him everywhere. It always made sense to me; there was no way in hell Mami would ever leave me it home, so how could I ever leave my baby?”

“So, when you say you always wanted to be a mom?”

“Yeah, it goes back a long way.” Estela stroked her belly, meeting Taylor’s hand there. “I’m glad I had no idea just how rough the path would be… how that dream just burned and died. But we’re going to get there.”

She could see it. A lot of what had made her childhood had been lost in a wash of pain and trauma, but it couldn’t be taken away completely. Those memories, there before her, they were still a part of her. Those warm family moments were hers to pass on to her own child.

“Actually, I think Mom kept Babydoll. Maybe as a souvenir of my brief period of childhood innocence. I should dig him out--” She faltered, and her cheeks flushed. This shouldn’t still be a problem….

Catching on in an instant, Taylor squeezed Estela’s knee, and met her eye with a warm and loving gaze. “We have time. And if we need to enlist Tio Nicolas to do most of the necessary rummaging, that’s fine too. It would be really nice for nene to have something of yours.” Memories were powerful. They made up so much of who each person was. Lacking her own childhood, Taylor had found herself gain a great deal from Estela’s, something that had always been generously shared with no hesitation, in spite of the pain that came with those memories. That family history was important, and it bonded them together.

With a small, appreciative smile, Estela nodded. “Yes… we have time.”

La Huerta, May 2023

“Right; tell me. Which end am I kissing?” Taylor scooched forward in the sand, reveling in the gentle heat of the lowering sun upon her back and shoulders.

“That’ll be nene’s back.” Estela gestured to her lower belly, then the top. “Head. Butt. Right where they should be.”

Taylor smiled warmly, and went back to lay another kiss against her wife’s swollen abdomen. “Bub’s got it all worked out. Ready to high-tail it outta there and start lapping up the cuddles.”

“It’s come around fast,” Estela stated. It had. Almost too fast. Pregnancy had been an adjustment for sure, but she’d become comfortable with sharing her body with the small passenger. She could take care of herself, and that meant that baby’s needs were met too. What came next was a great unknown. Estela knew better than most how good intentions of keeping a beloved child out of harm’s way could go up in flames. What her life had been… grateful though she was for the person it had made her, she didn’t want a life like that for her baby. She could tell herself that it would be different, that the fight was over, but she’d seen too much to not be protective. The person she might have gone to for reassurance, the person who’d truly have understood, was long lost to her. Rarely had Estela missed her own mother more than in these days leading up to the big event. It made her all the more grateful for Taylor; already completely besotted with the tiny person they were waiting to meet. In Taylor, her loving hero, she had all the faith in the world.

“Yeah...” Taylor put on a forlorn gaze as she looked up into Estela’s shining eyes. “Just a few more days, and I won’t be able to outrun you anymore. I’m pretty devastated.”

“You’re a beautiful dork, Taylor. But don’t worry. You’ll be able to keep ahead of nene for a few years, if you’re lucky.”

Taylor snuggled into Estela’s lap, and together, they watched the sun journey towards the horizon. The rising tide licked at their bodies. All was peaceful, tranquil; the only sounds were the rolling of the waves, the calls of tropical birds, and the distant laughter of children in Elyys’tel, voices carried upon the wind. Taylor quietly studied Estela from head to toes, taking in everything. The pregnancy had added further lines to Estela’s scar-painted body; marks of something happy at last. Her carriage gave off a quiet confidence; the baby was safe in its strong, resilient vessel. And in Estela’s face, once the vision of heavy burdens, so great that it might might have been those of the whole world… quiet, happy serenity. Taylor felt a wave of affection wash over her. It happened to her a lot. Goodness knew how she’d ever get anything done when she had Estela and the baby to love on all day.

“Estela?”

“Mi amor?”

“You know, I think a part of me is going to miss this. Being able to put my arms around you and hold the two people I love most in the world at the same time.”

Estela’s lips quirked into a smile. “You’ll still be able to do that. Soon enough, baby will be hugging you back.”

“It’s… got to be normal to be a little scared, right? I’ve got nothing, nothing at all to look back and remember as a reference for how the hell to raise a kid. What if I--”

“Taylor.” Estela took Taylor’s face in her hands; gentle but firm. God, Taylor… no one could ask for more than to be loved by you. “I’m scared too. But I’d be a hundred times more scared if I wasn’t doing this with you. It’s a whole actual person depending on us. A whole person we could screw up in a million different ways. But we won’t. Taylor, look at me. You won’t. Just… be scared with me. And all of us… we’ll be okay.”

Taylor pulled herself up and put both arms around Estela. Holding the two people she loved most at the same time. To be scared with Estela was almost to not be afraid at all. “You’re right. Wise Mama Estela.”

“Because of you. Don’t forget that.” And Estela kissed the tip of her beloved’s nose, growing cold with the retreat of the sun. She gave a little wink. “Mama Taylor.”

Her eyes glazing dreamily as she stared out to the sunset over the sparkling sea, Taylor felt a little kick against the arm that she had around Estela’s middle. She didn’t even need to look to know that there would be the most beautiful of smiles across her wife’s face. Pure elation. Mama Taylor? She could get used to that.

#endless summer #estela montoya #estela x mc #playchoices #taylor montoya #nicolas montoya #choices fanfiction

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