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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

Shelby!Sister getting poisoned whilst at dinner with the whole family?

changed it up a bit; reader is roofied at one of Tommy’s fancy ball type parties and there’s one particular gentleman around to help her out.

Good Team

Tommy had, since you were merely a little girl, endeavoured to introduce you emphatically as (y/n) Shelby, with your surname stated soaked in ferocity and warning. You are a Shelby. You are his little sister. He makes sure people know this. He makes sure they’re aware. He sees it as a pre-warning, the kind that lets them know that you are very very important to him without actually saying those words. He sees it very much as a pre-warning for grievous bodily harm had any trouble befell you at another persons discretion. It was made incredibly clear from the moment you were born that you were so far from off limits to the enemies that it didn’t even need to be spoken.

However, it was a relatively occasional occurrence that this message was not accurately conveyed no matter how clear your elder brother was about the matter.

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. ��She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

Then he lets go and Alfie simply shakes off his arm and walks away. He hasn’t listened to Tommy Shelby any time in the past, and it appears as though today will be no different.

#alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons prompt #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby reader #shelby!reader #peaky blinders blurb

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tyonfs · 4 years

Text

i like me better (when i’m with you)

PAIRING ▸ jeong jaehyun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ friends to enemies to lovers, college au, sports, friends with benefits, smut, crack, fluff

WARNINGS ▸ sexual !! tension !! lots of it, smut (public sex, fingering, hate sex, raw sex, pool sex, oral sex), mark lee cockblocking, also yes, there’s actual fluff

SUMMARY ▸ there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts.

PLAYLIST ▸ i like me better by lauv • unravel me by sabrina claudio

WORD COUNT ▸ 11896 words

TAG LIST ▸ @gotoartistprofile @chanluster @steamyjaehyun

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ big shoutout to fia for hyping me up to complete this and i hope you guys enjoy it !! thank you so much for reading ♡ part of the dunk shot! series but can be read separately!

SOMETIMES, THE AMOUNT OF HATRED YOU HAD FOR JEONG JAEHYUN AMAZED YOU.

To the average human being, Jeong Jaehyun was, in a sense, perfect. On the surface, he was everyone’s trademark Golden Boy—good grades, athletic, and a seemingly good personality. The last point, however, was a complete and utter lie. Simply put, Jaehyun was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and you, unfortunately, wound up becoming his target.

If it weren’t for your love for cheerleading, you probably would never have to see Jaehyun, but your passion came with a price. Competitors were often asked a series of questions, and these questions typically included inquiring about your hardships as an athlete. If someone were to ask you what the hardest part of being a cheerleader was, your answer would not be what they expected.

It wasn’t getting back up after bad falls that left you with bruises and a concussion. It wasn’t dealing with the basketball team’s aftermath of a devastating loss and having to cheer them on through it. It wasn’t waking up extra early for morning practices, or having to push yourself to run miles in the sweltering heat. Hell, it wasn’t even dealing with the horny basketball team members at afterparties.

It was the annual training camp.

Every winter, the team attended a week-long training session along with several other teams in the city. With state-of-the-art facilities and a massive training center, the training camp was an event that the entire team looked forward to. Although the training was brutal, the luxury of the hotel rooms and the gourmet meals had made up for all of that. Yet, despite all of that, the camp itself was still hell for you.

It wasn’t all bad, though. In fact, you indulged in the concept of a training camp, delighted with the opportunity to meet cheerleaders from different universities. A handful of your friends from high school had joined teams at different universities, so it was exciting to get to see them all again. All in all, it was the whole package deal: friends, your favorite sport, and fun times. What could possibly ruin that?

Well, a certain someone by the name of Jeong Jaehyun could, and that wonderful individual incensed your fury quite like no other.

“You again,” you spat, clutching your duffel bag strap. You had just gotten off the bus to head into the hotel, but the devil himself was blocking your way.

“Y/N,” the devil cooed, “do you need help carrying that?”

“I’m fine.”

You shrugged Jaehyun off and tried to move past him, but the bane of your existence had other plans. He tossed you a small carton of milk; it was the kind you could buy at a vending machine. Your reflexes kicked in just in time for you to catch it, giving him a questioning look.

“You should be drinking more milk, Y/N. It’s good for you,” Jaehyun said. You were sure he was going to make a snide comment so you opened your mouth to protest, but he continued, “Jaemin likes big tits, you know?”

Ouch.

You and Jaehyun went farther back than you’d like to admit. While you did currently attend different universities, you had the joyous experience of going to the same high school as him. He wasn’t too different now; he had the same dimpled smile, the same godly features, and the same cocky smirk when things were going the way he planned. What was different was that you two were once friends.

And what took the cake? You had a big crush on his friend and fellow teammate. Introducing Na Jaemin, everyone.

It wasn’t like you never got over Jaemin, but you had to admit that your heart still fluttered pitifully whenever you saw him. It didn’t help that he was so breathtakingly beautiful, so undeniably genuine, and such a sweetheart. Unfortunately, Jaehyun knew of your little secret. Being the conniving little snake he was, he used it to his advantage.

Ever since your fallout with him in your senior year of high school, you’ve hated Jeong Jaehyun, and you were sure he hated you right back. It almost felt akin to the competition at this point, and you were a pretty sore loser. Honestly, you were sad initially when he broke off your friendship in senior year and threw crude insults at you. You normally didn’t let things get to you, but it hurt to hear that your best friend didn’t want anything to do with you after you had told him you were going to a different university. You were sure the both of you had grown past that, but now he had changed from a sincere highschooler to a complete low-life piece of shit.

“You’re a douche, Jaehyun,” you sneered.

A grin spread across his face. “Yeah, I know.”

You scoffed. “God, if I could, I would smash that pretty face into—”

“Hey!” a loud voice laced with trepidation interjected. It was your best friend on your school’s basketball team, Mark Lee, coming to your rescue; or, rather, he was trying to prevent you from doing something you’d most probably regret. He shot Jaehyun a warning look and slung an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N, what’re you doing here? We have to check into our hotel rooms.”

You looked back at Jaehyun to see a smug look on his face before he turned to catch up to Taeyong and Jaemin. You looked back up at Mark, who was also keeping an eye out for the demon in disguise.

“Thanks for getting me out of that mess,” you mumbled. “That guy is so infuriating. I can’t believe he still brings up Jaemin when I’m clearly over him!”

Your words were sharp enough that Mark and the people around you flinched, even if they weren’t completely paying attention to your rant. It was common knowledge that Jaehyun’s presence left you in low spirits, and Mark had come to terms that you would always be in a bitter mood during the training camp, and that there was only one person to blame for it.

Mark shot you a sympathetic look that you knew was intended to show his helpfulness, but instead just served to make you appear all the more bitter.

“Why don’t you just ignore him?” he suggested. “He’s just looking for a reaction out of you.”

“If I let him get the last word, then he wins.”

“At least he’d stop bothering you,” Mark reasoned as you both made your way to where your team had gathered by the reception desk.

“Is this about Jaehyun again?” Zhong Chenle chimed in, a devilish grin plastered across his face. “You’re a handful, Y/N.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped.

Chenle just stared at you, arching a brow as if the answer should have been obvious. “You and Jaehyun,” he said, “there’s some tension there.”

“Wow, Sherlock Holmes. Observant, aren’t you?” you spat, words dripping with sarcasm. “We’ve hated each other for years. Of course there’s tension.”

Johnny Suh snorted, averting his gaze as to not bring attention to himself. Chenle rolled his eyes, a delighted smile on his face as he watched you carefully, digging into his bag of chips in the meantime.

“Y/N, I think he means a different kind of tension,” Mark said.

“What kind of tension?” you asked, shocking the rest of them with your surprisingly innocent response. In retrospect, it was more because you couldn’t imagine the answer being anything past the realm of hatred.

While they all hesitated to respond, Johnny spoke up, “He meant the ‘I wanna beat you up and then have rough sex with you’ kind of tension.”

You immediately froze—long enough for Chenle to take a picture of your reaction—the expression on your face a cross between incredulity and visceral rage. You must have looked like a ticking time bomb because Mark had to take a cautious step back.

“Come again? Rough sex?” You were well aware of how strangled and pitched your voice sounded as soon as it escaped your lips, how guilty it sounded, but you couldn’t focus on that as the weight of Johnny’s words were sinking in. “Jaehyun and I?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Johnny answered.

“That’s a lie.”

“Yeah? Then why do you two always look at each other so weird?”

You didn’t know how to defend yourself now so you just said, “He’s a bastard and I would never see him in any other way.”

“You say that now but we all know—”

“Alright, let’s drop it,” Mark said, trying to defuse the situation before you blew it up into an argument. “I would rather go rest in my hotel room rather than bear witness to a homicide.”

“Fine, fine,” Johnny relented.

You scoffed and jabbed at his foot with yours before letting the topic go. Your squabbles with them were all in good nature, but this one somehow put you off. It was like Johnny had planted the seeds and were waiting for them to grow. You were starting to mull over every interaction you’ve had with Jeong Jaehyun.

Johnny and Chenle had made a startlingly accurate observation. You and Jaehyun did look at each other for a little too long sometimes, nearly to the point where it seemed like you were basking in the attention of the other—

No fucking way.

You were not going down that path. There was nothing more to your relationship with Jeong Jaehyun than pure hatred and resentment. He was a douchebag who was intent on making you feel like shit. His only motive was to start shit again between you and Jaemin, who you would’ve completely forgotten by now if it weren’t for him.

No way. There was absolutely no undercurrent of desire that was creeping its way to be uncovered.

Or was there? a small, treacherous part of your mind offered.

You were lost in your thoughts as the coaches handed you your room key, as you waited for your roommate who was some girl named Eunha from the other school, as you made your way to your room on the fifth floor.

The only thing you could think about were those long stares, those mesmerizing eyes, and the implication behind them. You always attributed it to Jaehyun being a hormonal teenage boy, but you had to admit that you’ve seen him look at you with some semblance of lust. Perhaps that same feeling was buried far in the depths of your consciousness, too.

Could you possibly be attracted to the devil incarnate, Jeong Jaehyun?

No, you argued with yourself, and shit, even your frontal lobe sounded pretty unconvinced. He’s a petty bastard and that’s all he’ll ever be.

You instilled the mantra of you and Jaehyun being sworn enemies in your head, but you couldn’t help the fact that it was peppered by the memories of an irritatingly familiar smirk. You scowled, willing your head to get rid of all-things-Jeong-Jaehyun, but he was right there.

Literally.

He was standing right in front of you.

“Hey, neighbor,” he teased, all too satisfied with the horrified look on your face. “Guess you can’t get rid of me.”

You were falling when you jolted awake.

A groan tore its way past your lips. You made sure you didn’t disrupt Eunha’s sleep before you recounted your dream. It had been a while since you’ve had one, and realization was morphing into shame when you realized what kind of dream it was. You’ve never had a wet dream before but what made you want to astral project yourself into oblivion was when you realized that Jaehyun caused it.

After tossing and turning for a couple of minutes in a desperate attempt for sleep to overcome you once more, you came to terms with the fact that you were staying awake for now. Staying awake was worse, though, because there was no way you could keep the intruding thoughts at bay. Not with the way Jeong Jaehyun kept flashing behind your eyelids, at least.

You considered how to spend the rest of your night, surveying your options as you stared up at the ceiling:

Watch season three of Riverdale on Netflix so you could make fun of it.

Attempt to sleep, but with little success because there was no way you were going back to bed after that dream.

Count the slacks of the window’s blinds even though it would be pointless because what the fuck were you going to do with that information?

It was truly astounding how interesting your life was.

You couldn’t think clearly with Eunha’s soft snoring, so you grabbed your keys and pushed the door open carefully to keep it from squealing. After your delicate movements to escape your room quietly, you leaned against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. You weren’t too keen on someone scolding you in the middle of the night for being outside, but you needed to clear your head somewhere. You packed for weather that was balmy, but the air conditioner carried a bite to it that made you wish you hadn’t just worn shorts and a tank top to bed.

You could practically hear Mark mocking you if he were here: Are you in the right headspace, Y/N?

You shook your head, getting your provoking best friend out of there, but instead, you found yourself wandering into dangerous territory again.

Johnny and Chenle were parroting the same words over and over again in your head. You wished you could use your metaphysical hands in your head and squeeze the life out of them, but they always flew out of your grasp. You clicked your tongue absentmindedly, your annoyance rehashing itself as your mind gravitated back to Jeong Jaehyun with his stupid smirk and annoyingly persistent cockiness. It was almost pitiful that you hated his guts and yet you couldn’t deny the magnetism he carried, the pull that made your breath hitch when he met your eyes.

His presence was announced by the change in the air more than anything else. You didn’t have to see him to know he was there. You clenched your jaw; you couldn’t catch a break from him even during the ungodly hours of the night.

He was unavoidable.

He hummed with amusement. “Look who’s here.”

“What are you doing up this late? Go to bed.”

You didn’t even bother to look at him because there was one thing you were sure of and it was that you could not look at his sickeningly attractive face right now. Jaehyun didn’t move, blatantly ignoring your order. The tension was so thick that you wanted to storm away, but you knew he would follow you just to piss you off.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “You should be the one resting up. You cheerleaders always train until you’re near death.”

“Can’t sleep,” was your curt response.

He laughed once, a short sound that was pretty much gone the moment it hit your eardrums. “What? You get nightmares or something?”

“So what if I do?” you retaliated, getting oddly defensive. It was a given that you’d lie about getting a nightmare over a wet dream. “It’s none of your business.”

He laughed again but this time it was lower, more dangerous. “It’s my business when it concerns you.”

“I have and will never be your business, Jeong Jaehyun.”

He leaned against the wall. “I beg to differ.”

“Then keep begging.”

“If you say so.”

“Jaehyun,” you interrupted your own banter. “What’s the point of this conversation? Just go back to your room so we can go back to not talking to each other.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“That’s unfortunate,” you said. “I don’t want to talk to you, so go find someone who does.”

“We don’t have to talk.” Suddenly, his voice sounded closer, and you forced your gaze down at the strangely-patterned hotel carpet.

You swallowed thickly. “I’m here to clear my head. I don’t want you to hover around me for the rest of the night.”

“Actually, I had something else in mind.”

He closed in on you, one of his hands skimming up the soft skin of your arm. A shudder ran down your spine as you felt his fingers travel up to your shoulder, your collarbone, and then the side of your neck. With a swift movement, he caged you in his arms, biceps flexing as he did.

What was going on? You couldn’t quite keep up with the situation but the way Jaehyun was looking down at you made you feel hot. It was exactly like your dream—

“Holy fuck, Jaehyun.”

You couldn’t stop the words from escaping your lips when you felt his hot breath on your neck. Your head went fuzzy and you were pretty sure your knees were ready to buckle under you. The corner of Jaehyun’s lip lifted into a smirk as if he had been planning this. You mustered a scowl at him but one thing was clear: you screwed yourself over by getting into this situation.

Damn it. You knew you should’ve watched season three of Riverdale instead

Also, Chenle and Johnny were right. Not that you’d ever tell them that; put simply, you were a sore loser.

Lust was swimming in Jaehyun’s eyes. The way he caged you felt predatory, a show of dominance rather than passion. That smirk of his carved in deeper, and it only pissed you off. Yet, as much as it pissed you off, all you wanted him to do was just ruin you.

Your pride was too strong, though, and you concluded that you would rather stick a fork in your eye than let Jaehyun do what he wanted. This sparked a dilemma in your head: to fuck or not to fuck Jaehyun, that was the question. One sounded like a pretty uneventful night, while the other sounded appealing save for the self-loathing you’d experience afterward.

“You want me, Y/N,” he cooed. “I know you do.”

“I hate you.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“I mean it, Jaehyun,” you hissed. Your head was screaming at you to just go with it, but denying Jaehyun’s advances and provokes was just natural instinct to you. “I don’t want you. Stop lying to yourself.”

“Is that so? I think you’re the liar here,” he replied easily as you dodged his attempt to kiss you.

You pushed at his muscular arm but he didn’t budge. For a moment, you strongly considered just dropping to the ground and crawling out from under his legs, but you were done for. Seconds later, Jaehyun’s hand flew up, long fingers digging into the soft flesh of your face as he forced your chin upward to look at him directly. The lust in his eyes was so clear, so alluring, and it made you stop struggling for a second.

“I’m not going to ask you again. Let go of me.”

“Good, it’s a waste of breath.”

“Has anyone ever told you how infuriating you are?”

“You did. Many times.”

“Just fuck off already.”

Your words were like poison, but for some odd reason, Jaehyun was immune to it. Any reasonable person would at least flinch, but Jaehyun was so fixated on his one goal. Again, he didn’t budge. He gazed into your eyes with a fierce intensity that threw you off.

“Just let me fucking kiss you, Y/N.”

His smirk was gone. He wasn’t teasing you anymore. Jaehyun’s eyes darkened with his command.

He leaned in and you could feel his hot breath fanning your lips, drinking in your appearance. You were pulled into his trap and you hated yourself for it. You swallowed hard as all of your worries about being with Jaehyun and getting caught had started to fade away. All you could do was yield to him.

“Fine,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” was all he got out before basically smashing your lips together.

It was rushed, messy, and way too rough. Jaehyun grabbed the back of your neck, his other arm still locking you in place. Your hands moved from gripping at the front of his shirt to slowly wrapping around his neck. You weren’t sure how you felt, but there was something that made you want to tangle your fingers in his hair and get lost in him.

The moment Jaehyun’s tongue slid along the crease of your lips, you were conflicted. You weren’t exactly sure what to do so he took the reins. You wondered if he was expressing his pent-up hatred as well. It was clear in the way he was taking prying your mouth open with his tongue, snaking his hot muscle to dance with yours as if he had something to prove. He wanted you to see that he was the dominant one, that he had leverage over the situation.

But when he broke away, he flipped the switch. The both of you were left catching your breath, Jaehyun resting his forehead against yours in a feeling that had a weird sort of intimacy stemming from it. His hand dropped from your neck to brush messy locks of hair behind your shoulders.

Well, that explained why humans were so tempted by the devil.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jaehyun grinned down at you.

You fought down the shyness that was creeping into your chest. Before you could respond, the both of you turned your heads at the sound of footsteps. A flashlight glimpsed by you when you saw two dark figures at the end of the hall. It didn’t sound like your coach, but you weren’t too keen on sticking around to figure out who it was.

“Son, how in the world did you get locked out of your room this late?” one of them asked.

“I’m telling you, I needed to use the bathroom so I went outside without my key, and then I remembered the bathroom was in the room.”

That voice was most definitely Mark.

“Hey!” the security guard scolded when he saw you two. “What are you kids doing? It’s late!”

“You’re on your own.” You pushed Jaehyun away from you and fumbled for your keys before Mark or the security guard could spot you. “Bye.”

You jammed your key in, not worried about waking up your roommate anymore. All you could hear was Jaehyun growling out a short string of curses before you shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Your head was still reeling in what had just happened, but that kiss had left you in the clouds. You could feel the ghost of his lips on yours. Dazed, you just fell onto your bed, into the entrancing clutches of sleep.

You were exhausted when you woke up, and you blamed Jaehyun for it.

You weren’t in the proper condition for training; you hadn’t gotten enough sleep and your head was a mess (well, you supposed you were the only one to blame for the latter). You forgot to set your alarm so you woke up to Eunha shaking you gently, coaxing you into stirring. She was already dressed, tying her hair up in a ponytail. You all but jumped out of bed when you saw her, thinking you were late.

“What time is it?” you asked groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you stood up and tried to adjust to the morning light.

“You’ve still got plenty of time,” she assured you. “I just like to get ready early so I can go for a quick run.”

“Ah, okay. Have fun,” you mumbled before she left the room, leaving you to drag yourself around the room to get ready. You heard a knock at the door and went to open it, assuming it was Eunha forgetting her keys. Your eyes narrowed when you saw who it was. “Jaehyun?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His voice was somewhere between a pant and a rasp as if he had been working out, which he probably was judging by the sheen of sweat on his biceps.

“Were you waiting for Eunha to leave?” you asked. “You’re disgusting. Why would you think about me?”

“I was thinking about how much of a bitch you are for running away and letting me get in trouble like that.”

“Pity.” You mocked a pout for him. “Now move. I have to get ready.”

“Let me in.”

You made a face at the thought. You knew where he was going with this and you needed to stop it. “No. You’re disgusting.”

“You liked it last night.”

His eyes searched yours in the dim light, looking for something that unfortunately was there: longing. You were never the greatest at hiding your emotions, which was why you couldn’t lie to yourself and refuse Jaehyun. Screw your transparency. Jaehyun grinned at your silence and took a step in your room when you opened your door wider for him.

You closed the door. “I hated every second of it,” you said in a childish attempt to get on his nerves.

You were a terrible liar.

Your back was against the door in a second. You could only let out a soft gasp before he kissed you, hands on your waist, slowing his movements unlike the hurriedness from last night. It was foreign, the way he kissed you like you were the only girl he saw. You pulled away quickly but it just left the both of you staring at each other’s lips.

“You sure about that?” His lips curled into a smirk.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you warned in a low voice, “I still hate your guts.”

“As I’m reminded of every single time I see you,” he returned coolly.

“Fuck off.”

This time, you pulled him down to kiss him again. You fisted your hand into his hair, tugging at his dark locks as your lips moved smoothly against his. Caught off guard, Jaehyun groaned, low and deep against your lips.

The two of you separated again before Jaehyun said, “See? I know you want me. Only I can make you feel this good, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”

Jaehyun’s eyes darkened at the challenge. To prove his point, he pushed his knee up and between your legs, pressing against your clothed cunt. A gasp escaped your lips, the fingers curled in his hair instinctively tightening. You bit your lip but to no avail; a whimper escaped your lips as soon as he started pulsing his knee against you. You grabbed onto his shoulders for leverage, burying your face into his chest while bunching up the thin fabric of his shirt.

You wanted to hold back your moans because you were adamant about not giving Jeong Jaehyun the satisfaction of hearing you moan. Instead, you shifted your hips so that the pressure of his knee became more intense. Sparks flew behind your eyelids as he bounced his knee under you.

He finally released the tight grip he had on your waist in favor of palming one of your breasts, squeezing it firmly through your shirt and bra. All the while, he continued ramming his knee against the apex of your legs. He kept his eyes on yours and you scowled at the thought of him getting off on seeing you crumble in front of him. But you couldn’t stop yourself. He wanted to completely and utterly ruin you, wanted to fuck you in and shut you up.

The worst part was that you wanted to let him.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” he mused, slowly rubbing his knee in circles against you. “God, you’re still wearing that fucking tank top.”

“You’re such a—ah!”

He groped your chest again, thumb pressing down on your nipple. Another whimper escaped you as Jaehyun grazed his lips down your neck, nipping at the supple skin. You only got louder as the kisses turned into bites.

He ignored you and removed his hand. Instead, he tugged the neckline of your tank top down, delighted at the loose straps sliding down your shoulders. He yanked it down to your waist so you were exposed to him, and you swore you heard his breath hitch. Jaehyun pinched your nipple with two fingers, drawing out a moan that drove him crazy. He buried his face into your neck, sucking and making you quiver under him.

“Didn’t you say I had small tits earlier?” you jeered, a teasing lilt to your tone.

“Yeah, I still stand by that,” he replied, resulting in you punching his shoulder.

“Asshole.”

“Hey, I never said it wasn’t cute.”

“You’re such a softie,” you grumbled, but your voice was gentler than before. It was almost like you were warming up to Jeong Jaehyun, and you hated the mere thought of that.

Jaehyun pulled away from your neck. “Y/N, I want you to suck me off,” he demanded.

“I refuse.”

“Be a good girl and do it for me.”

You swore you’d go crazy if he called you ‘good girl’ one more time. You were pretty revolted at the thought of sucking his dick, but the way he looked so fragile under your hold made you want to do it for the power rush. It was like some cheap porno in a way; ‘College Jock Gets Sucked Off By Cheerleader.’ You bet half the members on the team beat their meat to something similar to that.

Your shoulders sagged. “Fine. Get on the bed.”

Jaehyun groaned at your approval. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, letting go of you to pull down his sweats on his way to your bed. He sat at the edge of it, tugging the elastic of his boxers down. You swallowed hard, tugging your tank top back up as you stared at his painfully hard erection springing out.

You got on your knees in front of him, lips parted in anticipation of taking in his length. Your hair fell over your face, which Jaehyun took notice of and held it back in a fist. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your hand around his cock. It was rock solid to the touch and twitched at your grip. Glancing up at an eager Jaehyun, you pumped the length of it once, inciting a groan from him.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, rousing a strangled noise from his throat. He looked down at you through half-lidded eyes, messy strands of your hair tangling in his fingers while his other hand was gripping the stiff hotel sheets. Then, you took him in fully at his encouragement (which was more of him just grabbing the back of your head and pushing it down on his cock).

“Shit,” he breathed out before slowly moving his hips in and out of your mouth. It was like iron wrapped around velvet, and he was relishing how hot your mouth felt.

He pushed your head down further and right as you gagged on his length, there was a knock at the door.

“Y/N!” Mark’s voice sounded from the other side. “Are you coming for breakfast?”

You pulled off of him with a pop, a string of saliva dripping off your lips. Your eyes were wide as you lunged for your phone, checking the texts. Meanwhile, Jaehyun just frowned down at you, looking up at the ceiling with a frustrated sigh.

“Holy fuck,” you muttered when you looked at the time. You called out to Mark, “Give me a minute!”

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said in a low voice and held the back of your head, attempting to push you down on him. “We can finish up now.”

“Are you an idiot?” you hissed, swatting at his hand. “I have to get out of here before Mark finds out you’re in here.”

Ignoring your state of panic, Jaehyun said, “You look so hot with drool on your chin.”

That was the most disgusting thing you had ever heard, and if it weren’t for Mark being on the other side of the door where you and Jaehyun were screwing around, you would have beat the living daylights out of him. Only a creep like Jeong Jaehyun could find something like drool sexy. You scowled at him and wiped it off with the back of your hand.

“Put your dick away,” you scolded. “Hide in the closet and you can leave when I’m gone.”

He rolled his eyes at you and stood up, making his way to the bathroom. “I need to get rid of the problem you caused.”

You had no time to complain about him jerking off in your bathroom. Mark was not a very patient man, so as soon as Jaehyun closed the door behind him, you stripped off your pajamas and threw on whatever was at the top of your suitcase. You brushed your teeth at the speed of light, using your other hand to brush down your hair. After you laced up your shoes, you opened the door to Mark looking at you suspiciously.

“You’re never late,” he pointed out.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” you said. In your defense, it wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh, by the way,” Mark started, “can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“No!” you exclaimed, pushing him away from your room and in the direction of the elevator. “My roommate, um, is… on her period—yeah, you don’t want to see that mess.”

Another reason why you hated Jeong Jaehyun was for giving you reasons to lie when you were a terrible liar.

Training was long and grueling. Your bones were mush and your muscles ached, pins and needles shooting through you every time you moved. As your teammates dragged you to get dinner with them, you couldn’t even resist because you were so drained.

The one thing you loved about training was that you could wear whatever you wanted, whereas you were confined to tight skirts and crop tops at your university. Now, you could rest in whatever position you wanted without worrying about exposing anything, so you didn’t hesitate to manspread as soon as you got to the cafeteria table.

“Did you guys hear about Jaehyun from the other school?” one of the girls gossiped. “Looks like he was fooling around with someone last night.”

You were grounded back into reality from whatever dimension you were floating about in. Your teammates were perplexed as you choked on air, hitting your chest to stop yourself from coughing. You were handed a glass of water, which you gingerly accepted and drank until your body had calmed down.

“Ah, sorry, Y/N,” your teammate apologized. “I forgot you and Jaehyun have bad blood between you.”

“You’re good,” you told her, waving it off. “I was surprised for a second, but I guess it makes sense for a guy like him to go around hooking up.” Then, silence fell. You were confused as they all looked at you with a puzzled look. “What? Am I stereotyping too harshly? My bad.”

“No, it’s not that,” another chimed in. “A lot of girls go around hitting on him, but Jaehyun never lays a hand on them. I thought it was common knowledge that he doesn’t do that sort of stuff, but I guess it makes sense that you don’t care about the details.”

That was news to you.

“Yeah,” you replied distantly. “I don’t care.”

So Jaehyun doesn’t hook up, was what you happened to hear around the grapevine, and he most definitely doesn’t hook up with his enemies.

You stood up in the middle of your dinner. “I gotta go,” you said. “I’ll see you girls tomorrow.”

You actually weren’t very sure where Jaehyun was, but you figured if you walked around enough, you’d run into him or someone from his team. You headed out of the canteen and walked to the basketball courts, expecting to see him dribbling a bar or doing reps. But the first person you saw was Na Jaemin, and he noticed you immediately, eyes sparkling with recognition.

“Y/N!” he greeted cheerfully. “It’s been so long.”

That infectious smile of his was plastered across his face, making a small one creep to your lips. If Jaehyun smiled like that more, then you could understand his charm, but he was always so moody around you. He either did something to get on your nerves or he would just flat-out ignore you. Furthermore, he always riled you up instead of offering you that warm security that Jaemin emanated—

Wait, why were you comparing him to Jaehyun?

“Sorry,” you apologized meekly. “Am I interrupting your practice time?”

“No, it’s cool. We were just messing around in here,” Jaemin replied. “Are you looking for someone?”

You looked into Jaemin’s eyes and your thoughts slowed. He made you feel safe, warm, but that was all; there was no fire, no rage, no heat. It was just a shallow attraction that fizzled out, leaving you neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. And you clawed at your brain as you wondered what you were getting at, but you knew. You knew it was all going back to Jaehyun.

And it pissed you off.

“I was looking for Jaehyun,” you said, “if he happened to be in here.”

“He told me he was going for a swim,” Jaemin said, and that was all you needed.

Before Jaemin could respond, you thanked him and turned on your heel. The pool was in a separate building, and there was no training that even required swimming, so it made no sense for Jaehyun to be there. You let out a frustrated sigh. Even when he wasn’t doing anything in particular to annoy you, it still managed to anger you.

You weren’t going to let Jaehyun do what he wanted this time. This was merely for interrogation—your own personal gain. Then, you thought it over some more, and you reasonably concluded that there was a 97.5% chance that you would not lay a finger on him, but there was a 2.5% chance you’d cave.

When you got to the facility where the pool was, you were entranced by the renovation at first. The pool was massive and the equipment was lined up so neatly along the walls. You peered through the glass to see the pool completely empty save for Jaehyun in the hot tub.

He met your eyes while you opened the door to the pool. His eyebrow arched at your entrance but a smirk settled on his lips as you neared him. You tried to push down your lust; you were not letting him get to you again. You crouched down by the side of the pool and Jaehyun moved so he was facing you, holding onto the edge of the hot tub.

“What brings you here?’ he asked, playfully flicking some water in your direction.

You flinched and scrunched up your nose at his action. “I heard you don’t do hookups.”

“You heard correctly.”

“So what am I?”

“You’re Y/N.”

You were a coward. Admittedly, you had probably always been running away from your own problems, deflecting your feelings with unbridled hate that had no direction, no meaning. Underneath your blunt and fiery front was pure cowardice. Even now, you refused to admit anything to yourself.

You didn’t want to accept that maybe you actually liked Jeong Jaehyun.

Maybe you’ve always liked him.

“Don’t be stupid, Jaehyun,” you grumbled. “You’ve always hated me.”

“I think you just want to believe I hate you. Is that how you suppress your feelings?”

“How long have you liked me for, then? Days?”

“Years.”

You paused for a moment as you recounted your interactions with Jaehyun. It was true that he never explicitly said he hated you and that you always started the arguments, but he was the one who broke off your friendship. Why would he do that if he didn’t hate you?

“You said you wanted nothing to do with me, Jaehyun,” you said in a smaller voice, fist balling at your side.

“You were going to a different university.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, and although you were angry, it was difficult not to enjoy the view. “Plus, you just kept going on and on about Jaemin, and I couldn’t even shut that mouth of yours up back then.”

“So you cut me off?”

“I felt like I was being petty, so I tried to apologize but you blocked my number and wouldn’t let me come near you,” Jaehyun deadpanned. He reached forward and grabbed your wrists, pulling you closer to him. You teetered on the balls of your feet, swallowing hard. “Forgive me?”

“No.”

Jaehyun rose up a little so he was eye-to-eye with you. He smiled at your flustered expression and cupped your cheek with his wet hand. Every muscle in your body was telling you to pull away but you couldn’t. Not when his lips were so close, when his eyes were boring into yours.

“Forgive me,” he repeated in a gentler tone, but it became more of an order than a question.

“Make me,” you whispered and Jaehyun groaned, somewhat helplessly.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.”

You opened your mouth to say something more, but you couldn’t even form your words as Jaehyun yanked you forward and sealed your lips with a kiss. Before, you had the sense to try and push him away, but now you were held captive. He slid his tongue past your lips and you let out an appreciative whimper, hand sliding into his wet hair. You tugged at his hair and this time, Jaehyun was the one to react.

He pulled away for a moment to catch his breath, eyes clouding over with lust. “Get in with me,” he said, voice rumbling. You shivered as he dragged his lips down to your jaw; you could feel his voice reverberate down your spine and to your feet.

“What if someone walks in?” you asked in a daze.

“There’s no use for the swim facility, so no one’s going to walk in on us,” he persuaded. “Come in.”

Water dripped from his neck, landing on your thigh. You took in a sharp breath as his hand tugged at your waist. While the pleading look on his face was priceless, you couldn’t even ridicule him because you were at your limit, too. You let out an irritated sigh when you realized you gave into that 2.5% of you caving.

You responded by pulling off your shirt, tossing it to the side where Jaehyun had left his shoes and towel. Jaehyun watched you as you fiddled with the clamp of your bra. Meanwhile, his hands went to the waistband of your sweats, making you shudder as he tugged them down at the sides. You raised your hips to help him get them off and, after removing your bra, you were only left in your underwear to protect you from his hungry gaze.

You weren’t the type to hook up with guys. Hell, you weren’t the type to even show a guy your ankle if he asked. You thought you’d feel insecure with Jaehyun eyeing you in your full glory, but there was none of that. You wanted to know why it was so different with him but maybe it was the way he looked at you like he just wanted to kiss you. Or maybe a tiny part of your heart always belonged to Jaehyun, and you couldn’t bury it anymore.

“You’re so gorgeous.”

He mumbled the words, barely audible, but they set you on fire. He pulled you down onto his lap like you were his anchor, and you were afraid you’d get swept with the current, but you let him. You’ve only ever kissed a few guys before, so you really had no idea what the fuck you were getting into. All you were sure about was that Jaehyun could make you feel good and you were having your first time in a hot tub. You only prayed that you wouldn’t pass out from the pleasure combined with the heat of the water.

“Is this your first time?” he asked, gliding his hands down your sides. You nodded. “Then I’ll be gentle.” Truly, you did find his gesture rather sweet, but it didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes. Jaheyun saw and narrowed his brows. “I don’t hate you, but you really piss me off sometimes.”

He kissed you again. It was more passionate this time, but also harsher and messier. You let out a sound that was something between a yelp and a moan, making Jaehyun move his hands to run down your bare back. Then, he planted his thumb on your clit and pressed down in a way that made a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your grip on his shoulders tightened; you weren’t expecting that. It felt different in the water, but somehow, you couldn’t get enough of it.

“You’re wet,” he mumbled against your lips as his fingers found purchase on your slit.

“We’re in the water, you idiot.”

Jaehyun scoffed. “You know what, Y/N, you’re right, I did hate you,” he spat, rubbing small circles around your clit now. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself, whimpering as his movements grew more intense. “I fucking hated how you looked at Jaemin with those love-struck eyes.”

There was a shift in his usual cocky expression. He turned focused and, to a degree, angry. It was the kind of look on his face you saw when he was on the basketball court or during a game.

“You’re the one who told me to go after him.”

Wrong choice of words. Jaehyun lifted you up and placed you on the edge of the pool, pushing a finger inside you with no warning. You gasped, your mouth open to ask him why he took you out of the water, but you already knew the answer; he wanted to feel you completely.

“R-right there,” you whimpered out as he pushed his finger deeper inside of you.

He started to curl his finger whenever he passed over your g-spot, and you had to close your eyes. Jaehyun pulled his finger out to marvel at the slick wetness that coated it. Your body tingled as he slid his finger inside you again. This time, he was teasing your slit with a second digit. Jaehyun had no delicacy, though, and he all but shoved in a second finger, causing you to cry out.

He didn’t even care. You opened your mouth to call him a bastard, but all that came out was a pitched moan that seemed to float up to the stars.

“I fucking hated,” he rasped as he pumped two fingers inside of you, “how you treated Jaemin like he was the only one in the world.”

“I don’t… like Jaemin,” you got out, each labored breath of yours fighting off another moan. “I’ve stopped liking Jaemin after high school.”

Jaehyun’s free hand went to your chest, cupping one of your breasts as he rubbed circles around your nipple. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, unable to contain yourself as the fingers on your clit got almost frantic in their place, and the fingers inside of you were pushing against your walls. You felt an unfamiliar cold fire that felt so fucking good, lighting you up and threatening to spill over. Your muscles clenched and spasmed around Jaehyun, and you weren’t even in the hot tub but you felt like you were sinking.

A high-pitched moan left your lips, leaving you hot with embarrassment because you didn’t know you could make a sound like that. You fell from your peak, relaxing in Jaehyun’s hold; it felt like you were floating amongst the clouds in an almost euphoric way.

“I don’t like Jaemin,” you breathed out, still winded from your orgasm, “you fucking idiot.”

“I know.” Jaehyun pulled his fingers out of you, eyes trained on you as he licked them slowly. The look on his face was more gentle now. With his free hand, he brushed loose strands of your hair out of your face. “You like me now.”

“No, I’ve loved you for a while now.” You didn’t know what possessed you to say what was on your mind, but it surprised you more than it surprised Jaehyun. “I didn’t realize it then but… I think I did.”

Love? Love?

You thought you knew what love was. Something that you felt in your bones, that burst within you instantly. Simple glances, thoughts, and daydreams—something gentle and fluffy, but also emotionally shattering. You thought it was tender smiles, kind words, and little gestures.

But maybe that was the kind of love that led to puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and hoarse voices. The kind of love that was left fruitless with an empty gap in your chest.

Maybe this was different.

It was instinctive, the way you fell for him. Like an effortless intake of breath, you were in love before you even knew it. You always thought love was a monster. Ravaging, scraping, foul monsters with jaws so immeasurably large that they would have swallowed you whole. But maybe it wasn’t the tragedy you made it out to be.

With Jaehyun it was fierce and maddening and made you want to rip your hair out. It was a violent hurricane that you tried to brave your way through. But you were blind. You were already at the eye; you had always been at the center without realizing it. And, despite all the pointless arguments and name-calling, it was the most beautiful thing you had experienced.

Yeah, you liked him. You liked how you were around him, despite how much you complained about it to Mark. Part of you refused to admit it, but sometimes the bickering was fun. You realized that you never let go of Jaehyun before because you couldn’t. You simply didn’t want to be without him because Jeong Jaehyun drove a deeper passion within you.

Your rose-tinted loving moment was ruined as soon as a shit-eating grin spread across Jaehyun’s face.

“You love me.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“You love me,” Jaehyun echoed as if he was internalizing the information. “You love me.”

“I take it back,” you said flatly. “I hate you, I hate you, and I’ve always hated you.”

Jaehyun ignored your words, his cockiness morphing into adoration. “You actually love me back.” He cupped your face in his hands, eyes turning into little crescents as he smiled. “Even though I called you a cougar for liking a guy a year younger than you?”

“Yes.”

“Even though I made fun of you wearing a push-up bra in front of him?”

You clenched your jaw. “Yes.”

“Even though I asked Johnny about you and he told me that I still live in your mind, rent-free?”

“What? Johnny said that?” you exclaimed, eyes wide. You grimaced. Johnny would be dealt with later. You placed your hands on Jaehyun’s shoulders and made direct eye contact. “Look, Jaehyun—as much as it hurts me to say this and I’d rather tear out my vocal cords—I like you. I like you so much that I don’t care about the petty shit you pulled when I liked Jaemin because frankly, I don’t care about Jaemin anymore.”

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You wanted to slap him.

“Are you just constantly horny?” you snapped. “I’m pouring out my feelings to you here!”

“I’m better at expressing my love through actions, not words,” Jaehyun explained. “Can I show you?”

“Is this another ploy to get in my pants?”

“No, I’m asking you out on a date,” he said. “Sneak out with me tonight. I want to explore the city with you.”

The offer was tempting. In fact, you found no reason to be opposed to the idea. After all, you were always down for an adventure in the city. Jaehyun being with you didn’t sound too bad either, especially when Seoul was so lively at night. Part of you wanted it purely to catch up on all the time you missed when you stopped being friends.

“Fine,” you agreed. “An hour after curfew.”

“Great.” Jaehyun flashed a grin that slowly curled into a smirk. “Now let me get in your pants.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Y/N, you see,” Jaehyun started, “I don’t hate you, but you’ve really pissed me off these past two years. We have all of this pent-up rage, so it’s only fair that we let it out on each other.” His grip on your hips tightened.

You loathed yourself for wanting him, and for putting aside the fear of being walked in on for him. You internally cringed at the thought of Mark accidentally bearing witness, and you weren’t sure you were willing to explain the situation to him just yet.

It was the price you paid for carnality, you supposed.

You sighed in a forced way so that you sounded reluctant and bored. Unfortunately, your plan backfired and you ended up feeling bad when a concerned look crossed Jaehyun’s face.

“If you’re worried about getting caught, I’ll just cover you,” Jaehyun mumbled, the softness of his voice almost putting you at ease.

You rolled your eyes. “How kind of you.” You paused and looked up at him. “Are we really going to have sex for the first time here?”

Jaehyun looked around him. “Well, I guess we could go to the hotel room if—”

“Nope!” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer to you. “Let’s do it here. I love the pool, love having sex at the pool.”

He rose a brow at you, hands making their way down your body. Suddenly, your realization of being completely exposed had heightened, and you pressed your thighs together. Maybe it was because your vulnerability showed on your face, clear as day, but Jaehyun smirked, further flustering you by tugging down his swim shorts to reveal his hardened cock.

It was heavy and warm against your thigh, but what you were fixed on was the v-line on his pelvis. You traced along the bone, making him shiver under your touch. You were shocked when he grabbed your wrist tightly, holding it away from him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here,” he growled. Jaehyun leaned closer and nipped at the shell of your earlobe, chuckling as you tensed up under his hold. His hot breath made you squirm under his grip.

Have you ever noticed how insanely attractive he was? Yes, of course. You weren’t an idiot.

Have you ever appreciated his beauty until now? Probably not.

“Just fuck me already, Jae,” you grumbled out as he pushed you down onto the deck of the pool.

In seconds, Jaehyun grabbed your hips and pulled them to his waist. Without any preamble, he rammed himself inside of you. The motion caught you by surprise and you cried out, half out of pleasure and half out of pain. You were definitely wet from being fingered earlier, but two fingers were nothing compared to Jaehyun’s cock.

Seeing his cock disappear in you was enough to make you whimper. Your walls clenched around him, pulsating at the foreign feeling. You were tempted to slap him upside the head for going so fast, but all you could do was tug at his hair and wrap your legs around him.

“You bastard, I’ll fucking—oh.”

Jaehyun laughed cruelly at your reaction, partly to cover up the groan caught in his throat and partly because your attempts at being mad at him were downright pathetic. When you had adjusted to his size, Jaehyun grunted and pounded in you, hitting spots that made your limbs feel like jelly. As if that wasn’t enough, Jaehyun found your clit with the hand that didn’t have a bruising grip on your waist and pressed harshly against it.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Jaehyun gritted out.

“T-then be gentle,” you bargained, drowning in a molten sea.

Jaehyun narrowed his eyes at you. “Have you ever fucking heard of gentle hate sex?” he asked, validating his point with a particularly hard thrust.

Your fingernails dug into his back, leaving hot-white trails down his skin. You were certain you had drawn blood, but knowing Jaehyun, he’d probably feel proud if he saw it. He brought his lips to your neck as you writhed under him, biting around until he found your sweet spot. This wasn’t fair; he was pleasuring you in every way possible and all you could do was cry out as he pummeled in you.

You closed your eyes, sparks flying behind your eyelids as you felt your release rushing to you.

Then, he slowed his strokes down considerably.

“Look at me,” he ordered in a rasp. Your eyes fluttered open, remaining half-lidded as you felt like you were going to spill over. “Look at me when I’m fucking you.”

He slapped his hips against yours again, the sound of skin against skin making you shudder. Jaehyun filled you up to the brim and you were oh-so-close to letting go and falling off the edge. The hardscape was cool but you were on fire, bliss overtaking all of your senses. Your toes curled as you held onto his damp skin for dear life, not sure if it was because he was in the pool or he was sweating due to the heat you both emanated.

“R-right there!” you wailed. “Fuck, right there!”

Jaehyun angled his hips slightly to pound into you, causing you to see metaphysical stars. It was so hard to keep eye contact with him when your eyes just wanted to roll back. Jaehyun let out a groan by your ear, low and guttural. You didn’t even notice how tight the grip he has on you until he releases your hip for you to see the print he left.

You could tell he was close, but he wanted to hold on for you. Both of your breaths were labored as you stared into each other’s eyes, your body moving up and down against the hardscape as Jaehyun railed you. You tightened your grip on him, a pathetic moan falling from your lips as you were falling over the edge.

Jaehyun understood and fucked you through your orgasm, making sure you made the most of it. Warmth blossomed under your skin as you cried out in pure bliss, your vision blurring and refocusing as it flickered from normal to pure white as you rode out your high. You ground yourself back to reality after nearly sobbing out his name, the pleasure overwhelming you. Jaehyun’s eyes went hazy as he fell apart right after you did, and soon, you felt something warm spill inside of you.

Jaehyun finished inside of you and stuttered out a curse as he pulled out of you. He rolled over and laid on the deck of the pool next to you, the both of you catching your breath like you had just run a marathon.

“I have a cute date idea for tonight,” Jaehyun said after a long pause.

You looked over, watching his chest rise and fall. “Yeah?”

“We go to the store and buy Plan B.”

You couldn’t even disagree.

“Sounds good.”

Jaehyun dragged himself off the floor, muttering something along the lines of “shit, that felt good” to himself as he reached for his swim trunks to pull back on. You grabbed a towel to dry yourself off, but pins and needles shot up your legs when you tried to walk. Jaehyun noticed immediately and a smug look settled on his face again, not the least bit remorseful.

You scowled as you slipped your clothes back on. “Shut up,” you jeered. “You’re so shameless for someone who can’t pull out.”

“Oops,” he replied flatly.

“I hate you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun ran a hand through his damp hair, letting out a laugh as he shook his head. He picked up another towel from the chairs by the poolside and wrapped it around so it covered your head. You bit your lip as you watched him attempt to dry your hair. It was times like these when he seemed so gentle and delicate, unlike his usual irritating attitude.

“You liked it, though,” Jaehyun said. “Right?”

You faltered, looking down at your feet as he continued to dry your hair. “Yeah.”

Jaehyun smiled softly and leaned in swiftly to peck your lips, but your moment was interrupted by the sound of a door opening.

Mark was gaping at you two, eyelids fluttering rapidly as if he was trying to blink away what he had just seen.

“Y/N? Jeong Jaehyun?” Mark questioned, his voice an octave higher than usual. Realization crossed his face through a series of facial expressions that morphed far too quickly for you to process. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Mark!” You and Jaehyun pulled away from each other quickly.

Mark paused to think his words through. “Did I almost walk in on a murder?”

You let out a frustrated groan. “Jesus, Mark, if you’re not going to read the room, at least SparkNote it.”

“Wait, so you were kissing?”

“No, we didn’t kiss,” Jaehyun assured, and you felt tricked for feeling relieved for a split second. “We actually had sex.”

Jaehyun’s words ended with a splutter as you elbowed him in the gut. Mark looked between the two of you, boggled. You nudged Jaehyun again with your foot, signaling for him to leave so you could handle Mark. Thankfully, he took your cue this time and grabbed his towel, mockingly saluting the both of you. You were stupid to think you were safe, though, because Jaehyun had to get another last word in before he walked off.

“See you tonight, Y/N.”

There was a long, awkward pause while Jaehyun opened the door and left the building. You and Mark were staring at each other but neither of you knew what to say or how to approach the subject.

“I just… I just came here to find you, and Jaemin told me you went to the pool. You…” Mark started. He looked absolutely horrified, like a corpse had fallen to his feet—no, rather, he looked like a corpse himself, like someone attempted to do taxidermy on him but did a shit job. “Bitch.”

“Let me explain.”

“Bitch,” Mark enunciated, “you just fucked the hottest guy here, oh my god.”

Definitely not the reaction you were expecting, but you supposed it wasn’t a bad one. You were glad he wasn’t getting into the whole ‘why didn’t you tell me? I’m your best friend’ rant, but this was equally as overwhelming.

Mark continued, “Wait—is that why you were late this morning? Oh my god, this has been a thing. You’ve been hooking up with him in secret, haven’t you?”

“No? Well, yes, but it hasn’t been much until, um”—you gestured awkwardly around you—“you know.”

“So you were the one who was with Jaehyun last night?”

“Yes.”

“And this morning before I picked you up?”

“Yes.”

“Are you two dating now?”

“Honestly, I really don't know,” you admitted. “Mark, please don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not those little shits, Chenle and Johnny.”

Mark gulped. “About that…”

Before you could question him, there was a chorus of loud clapping echoing from the locker rooms which was then followed by a few cheers. You grimaced as the two boys you didn’t want to see walked out: Chenle and Johnny, Tweedledee and Tweedledum themselves. They both wore cocky smirks as they shook their head at you, which made Mark a touch more nervous than he was before.

“Have anything to say for yourself, Y/N?” Chenle teased.

“Go to hell.” You scoffed and turned to Mark, narrowing in on him. “Why’d you bring them along? What are you? The three stooges?”

“We were looking for you so we could invite you to the movie night we were having in Jungwoo’s room!” Mark defended. “I swear, if I knew about you and Jaehyun, I never would’ve brought them along.”

You sighed deeply as Chenle snickered to himself. “Well, I guess Y/N can’t come to movie night since she has a date with—hold on, what did you call him again? The devil?”

“Okay, I get it!” You threw your hands up in defeat, eyes closed to show you were reflecting upon your actions. “I’m a dirty hypocrite and I’ve committed a crime worse than death.” You opened your eyes again. “I’m sorry.” To your surprise, Chenle and Johnny had their right hand up. You stared at it, puzzled. “Do you want me to make an oath or something?”

“In modern society,” Johnny explained, “we call it a high-five.”

It took you a few seconds to process their words before you tentatively gave them each a firm high-five. You blinked up at them before ease washed over you. This was how it always was, anyways. At the end of the day, no matter how much you guys bickered or teased each other, you always made up. That's what friends were for, after all.

“There we go,” you said, oddly satisfied. “For now, I’ll let go of the fact that Johnny snitched on me to Jaehyun behind my back.”

“How dare you!” Johnny gasped. “Chenle was with me.”

Chenle raised his hand to confirm the statement. “Indeed. Please give credit where it's due.”

“Alright, fuck you both.”

What the fuck even was a date?

This was foreign territory to you, but even so, you decided you wouldn’t rely on your annoying friends. First of all, you were sure they wouldn’t really be of any help and just endlessly tease you about it. Secondly, they were simply going to gradually grow more stressed (Mark), lecherous (Johnny), and aggravating (Chenle). Thus, you decided to slay the monster of first dates yourself.

Your first hurdle was looking cute. You packed absolutely nothing that wasn’t for the training camp, so you had already failed. Jaehyun was going to have to deal with you in your gym shorts and a school t-shirt.

Your second hurdle was sneaking away from Eunha, your roommate. That was a piece of cake considering how she didn’t exactly care. When you headed out of the room, wallet and phone in hand, she wished you a kind farewell, which you returned.

Your third hurdle was sneaking out of the hotel. You weren’t quite sure how you and Jaehyun made it outside without being spotted, but you were certain he must have tipped off some of the staff because there was no way the both of you could have walked straight out of the lobby without being reported. When you asked him, though, he said it was probably because you looked like the cleaning lady.

Needless to say, Jaehyun was on thin ice.

You loved Seoul, loved the dirty of it. Even at night, the city was alive and full of vigor, full of young people like you who were chasing cheap thrills. Jaehyun was a dream under the glowing lights, and you almost couldn’t believe that the prince-like boy was head-over-heels for you.

He took you to a wide alley with a night market, full of life and energy. Jaehyun was walking through the crowd and you were following right behind him, like some awkward fish swimming after a cuter, more popular fish upstream. There were several times where you almost lost yourself in the crowd, and Jaehyun noticed this. He reached behind him, still shouldering his way through the crowd, and grabbed your hand. The smell of spicy rice cakes, the numerous pop-up bars lining the alley, and Jeong Jaehyun gripping your hand—it all made a pretty eventful first date.

Jaehyun didn’t kiss you. Not once. He didn’t try to touch you anywhere that would have tempted you both into doing something you definitely shouldn’t do in public. There were times where Jaehyun turned pink or looked away from you shyly, and you indulged in it because this was a side of him you didn’t see often.

Jaehyun stopped at a convenience store before you both decided to head back. You waited outside for him, kicking stones as you thought of him. He was undeniably perfect, which you somewhat despised because you had spent the last two years hating his guts and this was an abrupt change. You were worried if he was buying you something; he had already bought you lamb skewers and rice cakes at the night market. You didn’t want to be the girlfriend to empty his wallet.

Wait—

Were you his girlfriend?

“Y/N,” he called when he walked out of the store, holding something behind his back with a sneaky grin. “Close your eyes.”

You bit back a smile and closed your eyes, holding your hands out. He placed the object in your hands and it felt light, so you were sure it shouldn’t have cost much. Although, your stomach was pitted with guilt at the thought of him spending money on you. You opened your eyes when he directed you to.

Plan B One-Step.

You no longer felt bad for him.

“Very romantic,” you observed, putting the packet in your wallet, “but thank you.”

You were seething. Your face grew unconditionally hot and you had to look down at your feet. It seriously pissed you off that your feelings were so clear right now because Jaehyun had bought you fucking Plan B.

Jaehyun seemed to notice right away and tilted your chin up with two fingers, chuckling. “Is something wrong?”

Your face screwed up when you decided on what you were going to ask him. “Are we dating?” you blurted out.

Jaehyun held your face gently like it would shatter if he applied any more pressure. His fingertips grazed the hinge of your jaw while his thumbs rested on your cheekbones. You were panicking when he leaned in, but it wasn’t what you expected. Jaehyun pressed a chaste kiss to your nose, grinning at your reaction. You reached up to trace his dimple with your finger.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, flustered beyond imagination, but you had already gotten this far so you continued, “do you?”

“Do I want to be your girlfriend?”

You wanted to hit yourself. “Fuck. I mean, do you wanna date me?”

“Of course,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

He drew you into his warm embrace and you buried your face into his chest, wondering how you hated this man for so long. Of course, when those cocky smirks and impish looks came back, you were sure you’d remember again. But right now, in his arms, you just knew that you wanted to be with him. You looked up at him, arms slung around him, and got on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

You were positive you hadn’t ever seen Jeong Jaehyun blush before tonight, but it was a sight you were sure you could never get sick of.

And you never would.

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

10 for the hug prompts with JonMartin? 🥺

touches prompt list

10 - hiding their face in the other’s neck

a no-fears au where jon and martin are in an established relationship! cw for nausea and a brief mention of vomiting (doesn't actually occur)

Jon doesn’t do roller coasters.

It is not, despite what Tim says when he thinks Jon isn’t listening, because he’s a, quote, ‘old man at heart’ and doesn’t know how to have fun. In theory, Jon is actually rather fond of roller coasters. He’d watched a documentary once about the design of them, and it had been rather fascinating.

It’s not because Jon doesn’t like roller coasters. It’s…

Well. It’s probably more accurate to say that roller coasters don’t like him. Specifically, his sense of equilibrium and his digestive system. Pills help somewhat, if he remembers to take them, but the fact of the matter is that he’s much more likely to leave the ride with a feeling of intense nausea than of exhilaration. He just… gets motion sick. No way around it. He always sits in the front seat of cars, ensures that he’s in a forward-facing train seat at all times, rarely travels by boat, and… avoids roller coasters.

The fact that he is currently standing in the queue for a particularly large and particularly frightening-looking roller coaster is not, therefore, due to his overwhelming love for them. It is instead entirely due to his overwhelming love for the man standing next to him, eyes bright and excited as he explains the history of this particular roller coaster. His hand is warm and soft in Jon’s, and their clasped hands swing absently back and forth as they slowly inch forward in the queue. His curls are a shock of auburn against the sky, and when he laughs and squeezes Jon’s hand, Jon forgets his anxiety entirely for a moment, lost in a wave of affection and fondness.

“—and because it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of the ride,” Martin says with a wide grin, “it’ll be running backward today! Well, all season, I- I suppose, but we’re here today, so…”

Jon has never been on a roller coaster that’s traveled backward. It does… not sound appealing.

“That’s… very exciting,” Jon says with a smile, trying to make the words sound as genuine as possible. Because he is a coward. Or, perhaps, just very in love. Maybe both.

It’s just… Martin had been so excited when he’d dropped the amusement park tickets in front of Jon a few weeks ago. And in the four months or so that they’ve been dating, Jon has found it increasingly hard to say things that will cause that wide, unabashed smile on Martin’s face to dim even in the slightest. So Jon had discretely taken several motion sickness pills before they’d left that morning and had told himself that there were plenty of other things to do at an amusement park besides roller coasters and spinning rides and other things that make it their personal mission to tie Jon’s stomach into knots.

And then Martin had spent the entire train ride rambling about the various roller coasters and how he’d always wanted to go to an amusement park but he’d never been able to find the time or the money before and how he’s never been on a roller coaster but they look so fun, and Jon just… hadn’t been able to tell him.

It’ll be fine, he tells himself as they finally reach the front of the queue, the brightly colored cars sitting empty in front of them. It’ll be… completely, totally fine. Nothing to worry about.

They sit a few rows from the front. The click of the restraints makes Jon’s stomach squeeze with nerves, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the bar in front of him with white knuckles until Martin says gently, “Hey. Is… everything okay?”

No, but it’s certainly too late to change my mind now, Jon does not say.

“Yes,” Jon says, loosening his grip with considerable effort. It’s fine. “Just… b-been a while since I was on one of these.”

Technically not a lie.

“Oh!” Martin gives him a soft smile that makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Well, it’ll be a… new experience for both of us then, I suppose.”

The car jerks into motion, and Jon’s hands tighten instinctively on the bar again. It’s a… disconcerting effect, to be moving backward rather than forward, and one that Jon is decidedly not fond of. They exit the staging area and begin to climb up the first of the many, many hills Jon had eyed warily from their place in the queue. Jon looks straight ahead and does not look down and tries to breathe through his nose.

A warm hand covers his, and Jon looks over to see Martin watching him, that same soft smile on his lips. Martin squeezes gently, and Jon relaxes, just a fraction.

Then, the car tips over the peak of the hill and begins to accelerate, and Jon’s world blurs into a mess of colors and sensations.

The only part of the ride that Jon enjoys is the fact that it’s over quickly. By the time the car rolls to a halt—after a terrifying sequence of loops and drops and harsh curves and tight spirals—Jon feels as if his insides have been scooped out, stuffed in a washing machine, tumble dried, and then pushed back into him at all the wrong angles. Martin’s hand is still gripping his, somehow, and it remains there as they exit the car and make their way down the ramp and into the main thoroughfare. Jon’s legs feel boneless, like they’re made of jelly, and he is deeply afraid that if he opens his mouth, he is going to empty the contents of his stomach onto the pavement below.

Gentle hands are on Jon’s shoulders then, and Jon finds himself guided onto a metal bench just a few meters away from the exit ramp. Jon tries to protest that he’s fine—they have limited time here and he doesn’t need to take a break—but his stomach rolls and he pinches his lips shut before he manages to form a single word. When a hand settles on his upper back and presses down gently, he finally gives in to the urge to bend over and tuck his head between his knees in an effort to alleviate some of the lingering vertigo.

“Breathe, Jon,” Martin says, and Jon does. He takes a few deep breaths, and when a particularly powerful wave of nausea overtakes him, he can’t help the groan that escapes him. “I know,” Martin says softly, moving his hand in soothing circles on Jon’s back. “Just keep breathing, Jon. We can get some water in a bit, just… for now, let’s sit.”

Jon is too nauseous to be properly embarrassed by the coddling. That situation changes quickly as the minutes pass and Jon’s stomach begins to settle. After what must be nearly ten minutes, the nausea has faded entirely, but Jon keeps his head between his knees so he doesn’t have to look at Martin’s face.

“Feeling any better?” Martin prompts, and Jon lets out a slow breath. He nods once, and—with the help of Martin’s hand on his arm—straightens slowly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground as he does so.

“Sorry,” he says, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear him over the din of the crowd.

“You don’t have to apologize for- for feeling sick,” Martin says. He rubs a thumb against Jon’s arm and says, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I- I didn’t think… it would be this bad?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon sees Martin give him a look that very clearly expresses his skepticism.

Jon sighs and puts his head in his hands again. “I just… didn’t want to disappoint you, I suppose.”

Martin is, of course, sharper than Jon gives him credit for sometimes. “Because I said I’d never had the chance to go on a roller coaster before?”

Jon nods miserably. “I-in my defense, I thought you would start with something significantly less… gravity-defying.”

“Jon,” Martin says, kindly and patiently yet with a chastising edge to it. “You could have waited by the exit.”

“I—I didn’t…” Jon feels the tips of his ears grow warm. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Oh,” Martin says, his voice pitched a touch higher than normal. “That’s… um, r-really sweet, actually.”

Jon is glad that Martin can’t see his face because he’s sure whatever expression would have crossed it just then would have been utterly sappy and mortifying.

“B-but I—I don’t want you to make yourself sick on my account,” Martin hastens to say. “There are loads of other things to do here. W-we don’t have to ride the roller coasters.”

Jon uncovers his face and looks at Martin. “But you want to ride the roller coasters.”

Martin worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says, “I… also want to spend time with you, Jon. D-doing things we both want to do, not… not just me.”

Jon stares at Martin and thinks, not for the first time, that he loves him. But it’s still too early to say it, probably, and he’s certainly not going to do so sitting on a sticky metal bench surrounded by children and tired-eyed parents. So all he says, in the end, is, “If… if you’re sure.”

Martin takes Jon’s hand in his and squeezes gently. “I am.” Then, he gives Jon a wide, soft smile that has Jon’s stomach twisting all over again. “So. What do you do at amusement parks, then?”

Jon flushes. But Martin doesn’t laugh at him when he mumbles that he’s actually quite fond of carousels. Instead, he takes Jon’s hand and walks with him across the park—staying away from the more crowded sections, stopping to buy some horrendously overpriced bottles of water on their way—until they’re standing in front of the carousel, painted in lovely pastel blues and yellows.

Jon, for a moment, feels self-conscious and more than a bit childish. But then Martin squeezes his hand and says, without a hint of teasing, “So, what animal do you prefer?” and the tension in Jon’s shoulders melts away in an instant.

Jon learns that Martin likes the classic horses, manes painted gold and plastic saddles a bright cherry red. (And Martin is entirely unsurprised to find that Jon chooses the cat, every time.) He learns, as they continue to explore the amusement park, that Martin likes caramel apples but hates how they get stuck in his teeth. (He purchases one anyway, rolled in peanuts and little rainbow sprinkles, that gives Jon a toothache just looking at it.) He learns that Martin does not appreciate his explanation that the monsters on the haunted house ride are ‘just dummies’ and ‘obviously fake’ and ‘really, Martin, that’s not even the correct number of bones in a human skeleton.’ (Though he secretly treasures the way that Martin clings to his side in the car and hides his face in Jon’s neck, his curls tickling the sensitive skin just underneath Jon’s chin.)

And Martin, apparently, learns that Jon is strangely good at midway games.

“You know those things are totally rigged, right?” Martin says, staring at Jon in disbelief as he tries and fails to adjust his grip on the frankly enormous plush teddy bear the midway worker had begrudgingly surrendered to him. And the medium-sized plush cat he’d won earlier. And the dozen or so little plushies and trinkets and accessories he’d acquired along the way. “You’re not supposed to be able to win.”

“Yes, well.” Jon gives up on trying to find a comfortable way to carry his prizes and extends the massive teddy toward Martin. “I suppose I’m just… lucky.”

He is certainly not going to admit that he spent a good three days researching what to do on a carnival date, came to the conclusion that it would be romantic to win an enormous stuffed animal for Martin, and committed himself to memorizing which games were easiest to win and what strategies he should employ in order to have the best chance at success. That would be… well. A bit much, he thinks. Best to just… not mention it.

Martin carries the teddy all the way back to his flat, his cheeks flushing a lovely pink whenever an occasional curious glance is thrown in their direction. It’s only once they get there and Martin tries to pass the plushie back to Jon with a sheepish, “Suppose I better give this back now,” that Jon realizes he had… indeed not been very clear about his intentions.

“It’s… for you, actually,” Jon says, ignoring the way his cheeks are growing steadily warmer. Then, Jon takes a breath and pushes the rest of the plushies rather unceremoniously into Martin’s arms, save for the cat which he’s… grown rather attached to in their short acquaintanceship. “Th-they all are. Er. F-for you.”

“O-oh.” Martin looks down at the collection of brightly colored things in his arms, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “I—I… really?”

Jon hugs the cat tightly to his chest, feeling something like embarrassment curl in his stomach. “I-if you don’t want them, I—I can—”

“No!” Martin says quickly, curling his arms protectively around the plushies. “I—I do. W-want them.” He looks down at the teddy sitting by his feet, then up at Jon with a warm, shy smile on his face. “Th-thanks, Jon.”

I love him, I love him, I love him.

Jon nods, pinches his lips together, and tries to keep his affection contained. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, after all. That’s… something he’s not meant to do, he thinks.

Then, when they’re both lying in bed and Martin’s chest is pressed against Jon’s back, his arm curled around Jon’s middle and his nose buried in Jon’s hair, Martin murmurs, “I love you,” and Jon’s breath catches in his throat.

“I… I love you too,” he whispers. And it’s such an easy thing to say that Jon wonders why he’d ever worried at all.

Martin makes a sleepy, contented noise, burrowing closer and wrapping Jon more tightly in his arms. And because he can—he can, he can, Martin said it first, so he can—Jon says again, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear it: “I love you.”

The words are sweet on his tongue, like candy floss and funnel cakes and caramel apples.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #i know nothing about british amusement parks so if this is painfully american... forgive me #hawkfurze

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Golden Thread

Prompt: since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon

Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon

Thanks for the prompts, babes! This was supposed to go up yesterday and I’m so sorry I forgot

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & janus, other than that, it’s not that bad

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5874

There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.

Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.

Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you never give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.

Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He swears he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much fun to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too entertaining to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the fun of it without a little risk of hurt?

Other times he knows to back off. He adores the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It always protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat just a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised hope…well.

Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread fully wound.

Not that he ever would, it’s just a thought experiment.

It’s not like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He doesn’t want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, anything just to hear the brilliant man talk. He refuses to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He wouldn’t enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and not because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

And he…

Well.

The idea of being able to have an honest conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with hatred.

He doesn’t have much of a choice.

He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them all the time, he’ll get bored. And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. That’s his real priority.

Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.

“They’re so slow,” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get anything done?”

Well…they don’t. Not really.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he doesn’t want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is exhausting.

The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.

He knows the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can ever be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.

They’d been…talking. It wasn’t an overdue conversation, not in the slightest, and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with himself.

And isn’t that just his saving grace?

Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that it’s not real. His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.

Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.

See? It’s already working.

It doesn’t keep working, but you know.

The effort was there.

They’re talking again.

The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.

“Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“

Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear what I asked?”

“Of course I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.

“…so what do you think?”

Honestly.

“He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.

Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”

Oh, Patton.

“I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”

Right.

There hadn’t been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways unnecessarily difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s exhausting. Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually does anything.

Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.

“I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”

“It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”

Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”

“You don’t know that, Virgil.”

“Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”

“That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”

“You miss Facebook?”

“You know it does still exist, right?”

“Did Thomas ever even have Facebook?”

“The color palettes were nice!”

“You mean they were blue.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“…the point being I know a lot about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is entirely made-up.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”

“Shut up, L.”

“I’d rather not, actually.”

Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.

Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to make him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with god knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.

He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.

The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.

“Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”

Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”

“Remus?”

“You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”

Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is not.

“…Janus? What about you?”

The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less fun than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like he’s the observant one.

Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he hates it.

No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as little time with the others as possible.

“I don’t know.”

Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”

“I will.”

The thread takes longer to undo that night.

Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.

When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so hard for him to realize when he’s the one telling the lies and when the thread is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?

The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.

He started caring more about the others.

The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to care about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him do things, but as their own Sides. As them.

He cares about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He cares about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He cares about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He cares about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He cares about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.

The thread groans.

Janus curses.

He can’t.

“The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”

The thread pauses.

“I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”

It starts to run back out along his tongue.

“Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t care about them.”

His tongue starts to taste sweet again.

“I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”

The salt of the tears goes perfectly with the sweetness on his tongue.

————————————————

Something is wrong.

Something is horribly, desperately wrong and the others are panicking.

The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.

The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.

They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything is in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.

Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?

“Virgil!”

“Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”

The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”

“I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”

“We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”

“Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”

“Remus!”

“That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”

“Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”

“I was draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ of course he was— “but then everything started shaking.”

“We can’t find the others.”

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier used to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.

Nothing happens.

They just keep barreling down the corridor.

“Patton! Logan! Roman!”

“Where the fuck are you guys?”

“Can you hear us?”

“Re? Re, is that you?”

“Ro!”

Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus can’t let go of either of them.

“In here!”

A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.

“Oh my goodness, Virgil!”

“Pat—“

Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.

“Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”

“Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“

“Snake Face, get your butt in here.”

“Don’t just stand there, help you idiots!”

A sickening crack right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and pull.

“Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”

No, the thread sews, I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be.

“Are you all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”

“We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”

“What’s going on?”

Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.”

Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.

“Where are we?”

“Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”

“Remy?”

“He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”

“Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”

“Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”

“I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this not being how I wake up ever again.”

“I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”

“I was in the middle of an experiment!”

Logan perks up. “An experiment?”

“As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”

“Of course.”

“Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”

All eyes turn to Patton.

“…Padre?”

Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”

“It did what?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Let me see.”

“No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”

Janus’s heart sinks. He’s telling the truth.

They’re stuck.

“Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh god, oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”

“V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”

“We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be so bad—what’s happing to Thomas?”

“Virgil, look at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“

“How can you promise that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you seen what’s happening?”

“Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”

“You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay here, with me, alright?”

Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.

Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.

And it clenches more.

“It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”

The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.

Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”

Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.

“I really do just ruin everything, don’t I?”

“No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”

“We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”

Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to mention the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.

“Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”

Purple eyes stare at him.

“You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. All of you.”

“Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”

The tremors keep settling.

Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”

Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.

“Have we ever told you that we care about you?”

Bingo.

Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, no, not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”

Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”

The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”

“That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”

Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”

“…yeah?”

“No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”

Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“

“You try,” he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”

“He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.

“Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—wow.”

A crack in the wall disappears.

“Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”

“We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we stay, then we can fix this.”

“O-oh.”

That tone of voice always leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.

“And where are you going?”

“I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”

“But we’re not done.”

“And what do you expect I can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on emotions, nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”

“Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”

“That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”

“You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”

“But—“

“No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”

“I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in this situation.”

“Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”

“So did Patton and Roman.”

“You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”

“That was obvious.”

“Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that anyone knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”

Logan’s mouth drops open.

“You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know us, perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”

He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.

“You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re Logan. Stay. Be Logan.”

Logan swallows heavily.

“I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”

Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”

“You won’t make me cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”

Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.

“I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”

“…fuck you, Snakey.”

Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.

“Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about anything.”

Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes bitter.

The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes bitter. It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.

The floor wobbles.

He can’t catch his breath.

His eyes land on Roman.

No.

No, no, no, he can’t stop now.

Not here.

Not with Roman.

Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.

No.

He can’t let Roman fall.

Not after everything.

Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.

“Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”

The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.

Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry.

If I had something that would work, I’d say it.

Only if you were a Side worth worrying about.

No.

No, no, he won’t say that. He won’t.

The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.

“It’s alright, Janus—“ no, it isn’t— “I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”

At least you’re being considerate for once in your life.

Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side.

Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has never tasted sweet in his entire life.

He needs to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all have to start paying attention to him. He needs Roman to know that he’s sorry, sorry he ever implied otherwise.

All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”

Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”

He has to tell Roman that Thomas needs him, needs him to be strong and healthy, to dream.

What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”

Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”

Why won’t his tongue cooperate?

The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.

He can’t tell the truth.

He can’t.

It doesn’t matter. Roman won’t know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus hates him and that’s fine.

Janus struggles to breathe.

“There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.

“Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs you to love.’

“We don’t need you,” hurts on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you so badly.’

The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.

He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.

Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.

Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and yank.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Why is it cutting into him?”

“How long has that been there, this whole time?”

“Janus—Janus can you breathe?”

What?

Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.

“Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”

“What is what?”

“This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across something, “around your neck.”

No.

No, it’s not real.

It can’t be real.

…can it?

“It’s not a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it doesn’t keep me from telling the truth.”

Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.

“Don’t stop,” he grits out, “it doesn’t hurt.”

“The sky is green.”

“What?”

“The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”

The thread loosens.

“Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”

“Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”

“Blue is made of red and orange.”

“The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”

Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.

“Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”

“Paris is in Canada.”

“Books are printed on alligator skin.”

“Water isn’t clear.”

“Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”

“Earmuffs go on your hands.”

“Hamburgers are vegan.”

Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.

The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.

Roman looks directly at him.

“I hate you.”

The thread gives.

The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.

The cracks weren’t cracks, they were threads.

The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape breathes.

Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you did it, come here…”

“He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”

“Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”

“In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”

He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.

“I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”

The next sob is slightly higher.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”

N-nest?

“Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”

“Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”

“I understand.”

A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…Logan.

“You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”

Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and warm. He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?

“Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”

“Got it.”

He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, warm blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is happening?

“Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.

“Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “breathe, that horrible thing was choking you.”

The horrible thread…is it…gone?

“Relax, come on, shh…easy,” he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”

“He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”

He’s doing what now?

Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he was.

“That’s it,” Patton whispers, “easy…”

“What…what’s going on?”

“You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”

“But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”

“You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”

“That’s what you said, J.”

“So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”

“But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.

Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say one nice thing about him.

Roman, whom Janus has hurt so many times.

Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.

Roman, who caught him, and is still here.

“Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”

He is?

Oh.

“Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “rest, we all need it.”

“Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”

“I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”

“Great. Pop Star, budge.”

“Hey! Kiddo!”

“Ah. Much better.”

“Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”

“In a moment, Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”

“Ro-Bro! Get over here.”

“Re, pulling me over Janus is not going to work.”

“L, are you coming?”

“Must you all be so impatient?”

“Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come here.”

Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.

“There. Now we’re all together again.”

“Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Shut up yourself, then.”

“Kiddos.”

“Sorry, Pat.”

Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.

“Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”

Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”

“Was what really a lie, little snake?”

“…you said ‘I hate you.’”

“Oh, that.” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”

…sweet.

It’s sweet.

Oh.

Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”

The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.

Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @cricketanne @aularei @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @whyiask @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @snowyfires @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx

I’ve been trying to debug the taglist recently, so I’ve taken off some URLs that don’t seem to be working anymore. If that happens to be yours and you want back on, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could I please request headcanons with the Durins, Bofur, Dwalin, Legolas, Elrond and anyone you'd like to add (or take out, sorry if that's too many characters) with a reader that tics? Like sometimes, random sounds slip out of them and they repeat them periodically for like a minute or so? Or sometimes hand movements or little gestures? I feel kinda embarassed of mine, so it would really help me. Thank you (also I read the nail polish headcanons and I loved them, you're amazing!)!

Absolutely!! And don't ever feel embarrassed! You are amazing, beautiful and perfect just the way you are!! Hope this meets up to your expectations! I'm not very familiar with tics and such, (I did a bit of research) so let me know how I did with the writing!

Tics (Thorin's Company x reader)

Thorin

At first, our king under the mountain doesn't know what to think

Surely he didn't hear you squeak...

To be honest, he thought you were doing it to annoy him, since your first interaction, you might have gotten off on the wrong foot 😅

And it wasn't the easiest to explain to Thorin, knowing he can be a tad thick-headed sometimes

It took a while to help him comprehend and had never seen it in your light

He understands now though, and has the most patience you have ever seen

He's never been more understanding to one person, even with his stubborn and sometimes grumpy demeanor

Thorin knows you can't help it, which is why he's instantly overprotective of you

If anyone dares make one comment, he's on their case like CRAZY

"Y/N can not help it, gilthock!"

"If you improperly console with her/him/them again, you'll face the wrath of my kin."

When the company was being chased down by Beorn, your tics were triggered and the great skin-changer could hear you from inside, clawing at the door with fury

You felt terrible, not able to contain the short exclamations and noises slipping from your mouth

But Thorin sent an icy glare to anyone who tried to hush you or tell you to keep it down

He's constantly reminding you that it's not your fault, and has become like a fatherly figure to you... Or perhaps, something more 😉

Fili and Kili

Unsurprisingly, both are also very confused little princes

Fili seems to have a bit more understanding of the seriousness of the situation, or at least maturity

(He is next in line to be king after all)

It took a while for them to adjust, since they'd never met anyone with tics before

One night, as you all sat down by the fire, the company grew a bit rowdy, which became stressful for our poor Y/N

Your tics were triggered easily by then with short yelps, and lines of curses that even made bofur blush

Ofc, you couldn't control it, but since the company had little idea of what was going on

the two brothers were quick to rush to your aid, rubbing a hand on your back as you let out a frustrated groan

"What's wrong with her, Oin?"

"I'm not sure. Is it a curse?"

"Probably dark magic!" Dori gasped

You just shook your head and managed to explain your predicament through tics that annoyed the absolute shit out of you

and embarrassed you as well >:(

After that, the princes were stuck to you like flies to honey

They would always ride their ponies by yours, offer to carry your bags, spend all day cheering you up

And more often than not, you would become less stressed and the thought of your tics would float away in the wind 😌✨

Hell, they even stood up to their own uncle after he continued to press some stressful questions about your unfortunate condition

Even if Fili and Kili are both very aware of the randomness of your outbursts, they still treat you as a normal part of the company

They'd hate for you to feel "out-of-place" as Kili put it, in their traveling party

You are so important to them both, and they'd never let you get hurt

Bofur

Meet Mr. Comedic relief

Whenever Bofur had first met you, he giggled at your little tics

Of course, he'd never meant to make you feel bad, he just thought they were absolutely adorable

Sometimes he playfully teased you about it, and that certainly didn't make you feel better

One night, he had gotten the others in the company to join him in his seemingly harmless jesting,

You just forced out laughter, hoping to convince them that you too, thought it hilarious

But after everyone had fallen asleep by the dying fire, your quiet sobs and tics were what stirred bofur

He came over and asked what was wrong, apparent worry shining in his deep brown eyes

So, reluctantly, you explained why you had little outbursts

Bofur felt awful

"Oh...oh. Oh I'm so sorry lass/laddie/leddie! I never meant any harm!"

He wrapped his huge arms around you in a big bear hug

Bofur never wanted to make anyone feel bad about themselves, especially you (his favorite member of the company 🥺)

"It's okay Bo. It's not your fault that they happen."

It takes a while for you to convince him he's not at fault, and once you do, he's never reluctant to approach you and spark up a silly conversation 😊

He has THE BEST stories

Is very good at keeping your thoughts away from your tics and cheering you up during stressful or upsetting situations

You call him "Bofur-Bear" 🥺

And he adores you so much

He doesn't really know how to react when you have ongoing outbursts, that go on for a minute or two

So he makes really corny jokes and stupidly hilarious innuendos that extract giggles from you while your having an episode

He will never let you go 🥴👉👈

Dwalin

(This Gif is so GOD DAMN FUNNY 💀)

Dwalin is, in some ways, like Thorin

Except 10x more grumpy 🙄

That's okay though, because we still love him 🥰

SUPER confused

At first, he was kinda rude :/

Said it was "disturbing to his duties"

tHAT HURT-

But one night, in the quiet of Rivendell, after everyone else had fallen asleep, you walked around the kingdom to enjoy the peace and tranquility of the elvish land

Dwalin had followed you, and when he called your name, you jumped in surprise, and it sparked a string of swearing

His eyes widened in shock in first, and then some incredible happened

He smiled :)

Just a tiny little grin, that was hardly noticeable under his thick mustache, but a smile nonetheless

"I didn't know ya' could use yer mouth like that."

You grumbled and turned back to the balcony, trying to rid yourself of his company

Regardless, he took heavy steps next to you, and slapped a thick hand against your back, as a friendly gesture

"Why are being so nice to me all of a sudden?" You asked incredulously

Dwalin sighed, but before he could answer, you yelled and slapped your hands against the marble railing

"I hadn't meant ta upset ya' that much."

You just shook your head, and proceeded to describe to him what was really going on

After that, Dwalin was silent, but gave a quick nod

He still needed time to really let the information seep through his thick head

You thought you had scared him off at first, but as your journey continued on, Dwalin actually grew closer than before

Whenever an enemy was nearby, he would look for you first, and place you behind h, out of harms way

Extra dinner? Dwalin made sure you were the first to get second portions, despite your humble protests

He gets teased by the rest of the company, and though he'll never openly admit it, he's grown very fond of you 🥴

He's not really the best at picking up on your social cues, like if he's being way overprotective

Though he tries his best, he also won't can't treat you like a regular person, more like someone who's physically injured

"Come on, Y/N let me carry ya'"

"Dwalin, seriously, I'm fine, I know how to walk-"

*picks you up anyways*

Overall, very sweet, just a bit excessive sometimes 😅❤

I just decided to stick with these few characters if you don't mind, since I have a lot of other requests to fill out, but I hope these are okay!! Thank you for your request, and I hope these were accurate enough 😅🥰

You're amazing, beautiful and never feel ashamed or embarrassed for something you can't control!! Stay strong!! ❤

#thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #xreader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #bofur the dwarf #dwarves #dwalin #dwalin x reader #fili durin #kili durin #kili x reader #fili x reader #bofur x reader #peter jackson #headcanons #nervous tics #tourrettes #comfort stuff

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 11

Y/n returns to Quantico and sees a familiar face.

@deadman-inc-bikeshop @viviace and @dovahdokren

Trigger warnings: mention of FGM, graphic descriptions of violence, bombs, religiously motivated violence, torture, cults, implied sex abuse

Out of everywhere you expected to see him, the FBI headquarters was the last place you'd have possibly thought of.

But he was there. His intimidating height was even more pronounced now that he wasn't sitting on a bar stool. The harsh fluorescent lighting enunciated his sunken bone structure, giving him an eerie halo. The fact that he was standing over a flayed corpse didn't help.

"Ms. [L/N]!" Jack greeted. "This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, he occasionally acts as a consultant on large cases such as this one."

"Hello again, Miss [L/N]." Hannibal said, eyeing you up and down with an unreadable expression. "I'm dreadfully sorry these are the circumstances under which we have to meet, but it is a delight to see you nonetheless."

"Dr. Lecter." You nodded, trying to cover your nervousness with a smile. "It's always a pleasure."

"You two know each other." Will said in complete non-surprise.

"Her bar is the only one in town that carries my favorite Bordeaux." Hannibal explained. "Though I've come to find that the bartender is excellent company."

Something about how he said "her bar" made your heart flutter. You'd convinced him that you were in charge, and you were determined to keep it that way.

"Not to break up the reunion." Dr. Katz interrupted your thoughts. "But we are standing in front of a dead cultist's body."

Jack cleared his throat. "Thank you, Dr. Katz. What can you tell us about this woman?"

"Her name is Catherine Miller, or at least it was." Dr. Katz began, grabbing the corpse by its left hand and revealing a scar on its inner arm. "I think Chase may have just been calling her 'unwoman'."

"Erasing a person's identity is one of the many warning signs of a dangerous cult." Hannibal observed, crossing the floor.

"Usually they try to change their names in an attempt to make them shed their genuine personality in favor of the cult personality." Jack agreed. "But she must have been so far gone to willingly give up her entire identity."

"That's not even the beginning." Dr. Katz rushed to the other side of the examination table. She paused for a second and lowered her head in respect. "She was mutilated."

All eyes turned to the body's lower half. Dr. Katz took the corpse's hand and rubbed her thumb gently across the back, as if to comfort it. You and her shared a look of mutual disgust and anger. No words had to be exchanged.

You were the one to break the silence. "In Handmaid's Tale, circumcision was a punishment for... gender treason."

"Homosexuality." Hannibal said, looking down. "Well, more accurately, any sexuality or gender identity that exists outside Gilead's biblical worldview."

"I wonder if that's why Chase strapped her to a bomb." Dr. Katz added with quiet conviction. "He needed to destroy any evidence of brutality."

"She said that she once was a sinful woman like me." You said. "Or something to that effect."

"Was she perhaps under the impression that you existed outside of Gilead's biblical worldview?" Hannibal asked, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. He was asking out of his own curiosity and you could tell.

"Well, I am." You admitted. "But I'm not sure how she or Chase could have known that."

"Evangelicals make assumptions about people all the time." Dr. Katz groaned. "I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"And here I thought the bible said 'judge not lest ye be judged'." Will added, not looking up from the body. He took a few steps and pointed to some strange laceration. "What's this?"

"I have no fucking idea." Dr. Katz answered. "It looks like someone tried to skin her like a deer, but only in that one spot."

"And it's done very sloppily at that." Said Hannibal.

"Yeah, well when you're guided by the hand of god, you don't need a medical license." Dr. Katz's voice was sharp with sarcasm.

"I'll bet that's why Chase strapped her to a bomb." Will said. "It would destroy all the evidence of brutality."

Dr. Katz looked sadly on the body and closed its eyes. "I think Catherine has suffered enough for the time being. I'm going to close her up."

Jack gestured to you. "Miss [L/N], Will and I are going to examine the crime scene. Dr. Lecter will be taking your statement."

"I know it’s unorthodox, but I am nothing if not a professional." Hannibal peered down at you.

Hannibal silently escorted you to an out-of-the-way office where he promised you’d have some privacy. Privacy to discuss what, you were unsure.

“I’m sure you have a million questions, Miss [L/N].” He said, closing the door behind you. “But if I could trouble you with a few of my own, I can make it worth your while.”

He sat on a nearby couch and patted the space beside him. You awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, looking everywhere but at him.

“Come, sit by me.” He beckoned you with his fingers. “I’d like you to be close.”

You let your feet carry you to his side, still avoiding any eye contact. You fidgeted with your purse straps and kept your head down.

“You and Will Graham have met?” He asked.

You wordlessly nodded your head. You had a sinking feeling that he was about to scold you.

“Have you been intimate?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he stopped you. “There’s no use lying to me, Miss [L/N].”

You dropped your shoulders. “How did you know?”

He leaned towards you and took a short, audible breath in. “I find it quite hard to believe that you wear the same aftershave.”

“Is he your boyfriend or something?” You said, somewhat sarcastically.

“Or something.” Hannibal tilted his head. “An object of my affection, is probably a more accurate term.”

“You want me to back off?” You raised your eyebrows. You had just witnessed this man examine a flayed corpse without so much as a flinch. You didn’t want to get on his bad side.

“No.”

His answer took you by surprise. “Pardon?”

“When two objects of your affection find each other, there are certainly far worse fates than to see them enamored with one another.” Hannibal explained. “It can lead to some highly desirable outcomes.”

You understood what he was saying, you just couldn’t believe it. “Like what?”

He grinned. “I think you already know what.”

“You mean, like a threesome?”

So much for professionalism.

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “Now don’t make it sound so crass, darling. I’m an intelligent man of strong moral character. I’m not driven by lust alone.”

At least he shared your contempt there. The word ‘threesome’ conjured up bad memories of being approached by straight couples on dating apps who saw you as nothing but a disposable sex toy to boost a straight man’s ego. For that reason, you stayed away from the idea altogether. Hannibal, however, had you reconsidering.

“So a throuple.” You said. As the word left your mouth, you found yourself more amenable to the idea than you’d anticipated. “I just don’t know how I’d feel being shared between two men.”

“Oh, [F/N],” he purred. “You would be worshipped by two men. Loved obsessively. Given everything you could ever desire. Not to mention protected at all costs.”

That last point struck you. For so long, you had lived alone and in fear. And now, you would take any opportunity to not be alone.

"You like the sound of that. I can tell." Hannibal broke the silence.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" You said, pushing your hair behind your ear.

He smiled proudly. "I thought so."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannigram x reader #will graham smut #will graham x you #will graham x reader #will graham #hannigram #tw fgm #tw violence #tw christianity

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch. 6

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5

It becomes a sort of evening ritual between the two of you, waking Cassandra up at sunset.

You're always cautious with your movements and how much light you allow in from the hallway as you enter her lavish bedroom, but the cold fear that used to grip at your chest is no longer there.

Measured steps take you to the edge of her bed.

Cassandra usually sleeps on her side, yet today she's on her front, firm back and creamy thigh tantalizingly on display against satin crimson sheets. Her pretty face is turned halfway into her pillow, a river of rich brown waves falling behind her ear and over one shoulder.

The sight makes you stop and stare for a moment. A strange feeling —accomplishment?— swells within your chest at the thought you know just how smooth and sensitive that skin is.

Then you shake your head at yourself. Pull it together. It's one thing to accept you're in a mutually beneficial arrangement with a killer —you remain intact, she scratches an itch, both of you share the pleasure as a means of escape or passing the time— but it is entirely another to be proud of it.

She's nothing of yours. Not your lover, certainly not your girl. That would imply you stand on equal ground which you most certainly do not. You're exactly what she calls you;

A plaything.

The question is, inside your head, what do you call her?

"My lady." you say, keeping your voice low. She doesn't stir but somehow you know she's awake.

"Either wake me up nicely or don't wake me at all." the words come semi-muffled against her pillow. "If I wanted to hear 'my lady' I'd have another maid come."

Well. She does seem to enjoy when you take some creative liberties. So you lean forward and press your lips just over her knee, then move a tad higher on her thigh, then kiss the veins visible on her hand.

Cassandra's mouth slowly pulls into a pleased smile as she turns onto her side. Her fingers then curl on the neckline of your shirt and tug you forward, into a quick little kiss that ends with a nibble on your tongue.

You always get anxious when she does that —it's probably why she does it in the first place— that you'll end up with a piece missing, but so far you haven't even been cut. And if you're honest with yourself, which you're not, but if you were... the thrill is a turn on.

Cassandra licks her lips and scoots back, patting the spot she just vacated on the queen-sized mattress. You look at her, confused. Surely she isn't suggesting...

"Come, now. I don't bite." A devilish smirk curls her mouth while she tells probably the biggest lie of the year. "Keep me company until dinner."

You climb onto her bed like it's a freaking minefield. As carefully as you lower yourself onto the crimson sheets, however, the bruises across your sides still protest. You subtly suck in air through your teeth.

Cassandra's fingers slide over to you, to the exposed part of your waist from where your shirt has risen up. There's a visible patch of purple there that she traces —the coolness of her skin is so soothing— until she presses into it. The brief flare of pain makes you gasp. She giggles.

"You make such nice expressions to pain." she says, as though tempted to draw more from you.

"I've been told my pleasured ones are better." you reply quickly.

Cassandra chuckles. "Is that so?" Her yellowish eyes are gleaming with amusement as she pushes you onto your back and straddles you.

The sight is enough to steal your breath away. The sinful black of her underwear peeks through the royal red of the sheets tangled around her waist, all a wonderful antithesis with her incredibly pale skin.

You want to touch. But then you may lose your hands, so you lock your muscles down and wait for her move.

Cassandra slowly trails a slender finger up your neck, all the way to the underside of your bottom lip. "...yeah, they're good too." she breathes, although you've almost forgotten what you were talking about.

"Can't hold a candle to yours." you whisper back. At this point, you're not really capable of rational thought.

You loathe the effect she has on you. How everything she's done can just be bypassed in your head whenever she gets like this with you.

Cassandra's mouth twists into a near coy little smile. "I'll take your word for it." she says. "There hasn't been anyone else to see them, so."

Wait. Your mind stutters to a halt. Wait. What?

According to rumor, the Dimitrescus have been around for over one hundred years. From what you've seen in the castle, probably longer. And you... you're her first?

"Cat got your tongue?" she giggles again, taking your chin between two long fingers. "I think I may like surprise on you best."

You want to ask if nobody's ever interested her before, but you're afraid to overstep. Cassandra seems to know, though and has no problems answering your unasked question;

"The first few dozen years after the mutations were... very bad. The hunger and thirst were enough to drive one mad. Didn't leave much room for anything else." she explains. "And humans in general are only attractive to me chained up and bled out."

Something inside you recoils at how casually she says it. Like she's simply commenting on the weather.

"But you... you have a little spark that I like." She smirks down at you.

"What about before?" you ask.

"Hm?"

"You said after the mutations. What about before?"

Cassandra's smile gets swallowed up by the abyss so quickly you wonder if you imagined it there. Tension builds at her temples and her eyes take on an icy quality that feels like it extinguishes all warmth in the room.

"There is no before."

You've never heard her voice like that. You hope you never will again, either.

The conversation drifts to lighter subjects, then. She asks you about the world beyond the village and you share what you remember from your childhood, until it is time to escort her to dinner.

But even as she eats and talks with her family, even when she leaves with her mother and sisters and you're left alone, to clean after bloody plates with the other maids, you can't shake off that look in her eyes when you dared ask about her life pre-mutations.

The more you linger on it... there's only one word that comes to mind as an accurate description.

Haunted.

Deep in your slumber, you hear the telltale buzzing of flies.

Something winged flutters against your cheek, but you merely stir. It prods at your jaw and you grunt. Leave me alone, you want to protest, brain muddled with sleep still.

Until.

A nip that cuts a thin line on your jaw has you springing upright in bed. "Agh!" Your hand flies to the wound, eyes wide.

A familiar form materializes out of an insect swarm, right in front of you. Cassandra grabs at your hand before you can start flailing and panicking any harder than you already are. Your lungs empty of hair in the milliseconds it takes you to realize she's not here to kill you.

Probably.

"Calm down." she says it like you're overreacting.

You try to take a deep, relaxing breath, but she leans forward in the meantime, running the tip of her tongue over the fresh cut on you. So much for oxygen. She even hums against your neck. Despite the sting, your stomach flutters.

Cassandra pulls back, licking her lip. "There. All better now?"

No. Your heart is trying to jump out of your chest. Has she never heard of knocking? For the love of everything Holy out there, it's the middle of the night.

"W-what are you doing here?" you ask.

A dramatic huff escapes her. "I'm bored."

Ah, yes, that makes a lot of sense. You spare a moment to wonder what your life has come to, then accept lack of proper rest and sit back against your pillows. Cassandra takes it as an invitation to push off her hood and plant herself next to you.

"Do you... want to go for a walk outside?" you suggest, uncertain.

Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree for a moment. Then she seems to remember something that dims the glow. "Ugh. Can't. It's way too cold tonight."

That... shouldn't be and issue for her, should it? It makes you wonder.

"Well, if I stay here I'm going to fall asleep." you sheepishly admit.

Cassandra's gaze darkens as she runs her fingertips down the taut skin of your bare middle, leaning over you like a lioness cornering her prey.

"I don't mind biting you awake if you do."

You want to say that you mind, yet her lips are on top if yours, smooth, tasting of strawberry lipbalm and that's the end of that conversation.

"But I am willing to cut you a deal." A manicured nail presses a bit at the middle of your chest. "Put that smart tongue of yours to good use and I'll let you get your sleep."

So spoiled and so demanding, you think. But then, looking at her face this close up... So beautiful.

You forget all about sleep for the next half hour or so as you focus solely on Cassandra, your bedroom filling with her quiet sighs and moans.

True to her word, she does ease back when she's satisfied and you're so tired your eyes start drooping before you've even lowered your head to your pillow.

She doesn't move to leave though... and you find that you don't mind.

When you drift off to sleep this time, your last thought is that the gentle chill of her body beside yours is almost...

Comforting.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #resident evil village #fanfiction #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #am I obsessed with her?#yes I am :)#but imagine if her sadism has its roots on emotional trauma #and we'll never know because capcom scammed us on their importance to the story

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geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek · 3 years

Text

"Geralt."

"Mm."

"Geraaaalt."

With a huff, he lowers his phone to look at the figure in his doorway. In the dim light spilling in from the window, he can just make out the bulky shape of Jaskier wrapped in what must be three blankets over his head.

"What, Jas."

Jaskier pads into the room on socked feet and slumps over the foot of his bed with a dramatic groan. Geralt rolls his eyes, mouth twitching despite himself at the antics. He nudges Jaskier's form with his foot gently and then again a little harder when all Jaskier does is whine again.

"Stop," Jaskier says, muffled by his blankets. His hand sneaks out of the cocoon to swat at Geralt's leg.

"You stop," Geralt shoots back, kicking him again just for the hell of it. "What do you want."

More muffled words are his answer.

"I can't hear you, Jas."

There's a bit of shuffling, and then Jaskier's voice is much clearer when he whines, "I'm cold, Geralt. Do something."

"What do you want me to do?" Geralt asks, setting his phone aside. It's nearly dead, anyway, and his eyes are starting to hurt. He rubs them as he says, "Downed power lines are a bit out of my limited area of expertise."

According to the time on his phone, they've been without power for going on almost fourteen hours now. The freeze had set in the evening before and only gotten worse throughout the night. It hadn't been too bad at first, with residual heat still warming the apartment, but it's slowly seeped away in the hours since. There's a biting chill in the air now that even he can feel despite being under his own covers in bed.

Jaskier scoots himself up onto the bed, crawling up to slide under the comforter next to Geralt and bury his head beneath his arm. Geralt doesn't protest, just lets him resituate as he pleases because sometimes it's better to just go along with his best friend's whims than to fight him on them.

He settles with his face buried in Geralt's armpit and tangles their legs together, sighing in contentment. "You're warm," he murmurs, sounding on the verge of sleep—which, Geralt realizes, he must have been before he came into the room. Getting too cold is probably what woke him up in the first place. "Cuddle me."

It's an innocent request, but it makes warmth settle in his chest and his cheeks. Jaskier's always been extremely tactile, and it's something he's had to get used to over the years of their friendship, but things like this—cuddling in bed together—still make him blush and stutter like a schoolkid with a crush.

Which...isn't that far from accurate, if he's being honest. Maybe he's not a schoolkid anymore, but he's definitely got a crush on his best friend.

Hopelessly in love with him, some even say, though those some can shut the fuck up (Yen).

But he's also physically incapable of telling Jaskier no, so he lets him bury his face in his armpit and throw a leg over his hips and curl as far into his side as he can get, seeking warmth from the chill in their apartment. He lets out a quiet, happy sound when he's finally comfortable, and it just about melts Geralt into goo with how cute it is.

With a silent, resigned sigh, Geralt pulls him closer and puts his other arm behind his own head, staring up at the ceiling through the darkness and trying to calm his fluttering heartbeat.

Jaskier's breathing eventually slows back into the deep, even rhythm of sleep, and Geralt closes his own eyes, figuring he might as well try for a nap too, since there's no telling when the power will be back. He listens as Jaskier makes little humming noises, his own version of sleep-talk, and a smile curls his lips even as he suppresses the urge to chuckle.

"You sing in your sleep, you know," he says softly. He turns his head and presses his nose into Jaskier's hair, inhaling the smell of his shampoo—something warm and comforting. "It's cute. You're cute. You know that? Really cute. You make me feel like a kid sometimes, seeing my crush smiling at me and getting all flustered about it."

Jaskier hums a long note, and Geralt pauses, tensing, thinking he's awake enough to hear him. When Jaskier only curls into him more, still asleep, he relaxes. He runs his hand up and down Jaskier's arm wrapped around his chest.

The quiet permeates for a long moment, their breathing and the wind outside the only sounds to be heard. It's nice. Peaceful. His favorite kind of moment, just him and Jaskier curled up together. He wants it to always be like this.

On impulse, Geralt lets his lips press against Jaskier's head. "Love you, Jas. Maybe one day I'll have the balls to say it to your face so I can keep you forever."

"You get really sappy when you think no one can hear you," Jaskier says, voice muffled against his chest. "It's cute. You should do it more."

Geralt freezes, panic creeping in. "Jas—"

A hand finds his face, cutting him off, and Geralt snaps his mouth closed before he does something really stupid, like suck on the finger pressing against his lips.

"Ah—no take backs," Jaskier says, slightly more awake. He shuffles around, sitting up to lean over Geralt. "You said you want to keep me forever, so now you're stuck with me forever. No returns. No refunds. All sales final."

It's too dark to see his expression, but Geralt likes to think he can see the blue color of his eyes in the dim, overcast light coming in from the window. He pictures the way Jaskier's mouth is probably curled at the corners like it does when he's being a little shit—like now—and wants to kiss it.

"Jas," he tries again, but it comes out half-hearted and weak. There's no real fight in him. The panic has faded, replaced by a light feeling like budding hope. His heart is fluttering; it's a nice feeling.

The finger on his lips is replaced with Jaskier's mouth, the kiss so brief and soft Geralt isn't even sure it happened until Jaskier leans down to kiss his forehead, then his cheek, ending with a peck on his nose. It's so fucking endearing, it nearly makes him melt inside.

"I love you too," Jaskier murmurs, settling back down beside him. He buries his head back in Geralt's armpit, winding his arms around his chest and tangling them back together. "Always have, you big softie. Now sleep. It's cozy. Don't wake me until the lights come back on."

At that moment, the low noise that indicates the heater is running fills the room, followed by the alarm clock on the bedside table lighting up, numbers flashing and needing to be reset, as well as his bedside lamp. Power's back, it seems.

Geralt lets out a loud guffaw at the look of utter indignation on Jaskier's face when he sits up in a jolt, the way his lip juts out in a truly award-level pout. He shakes his head, reaching out to knock him gently on the chin and get his attention.

"Hey," he says. Those blue eyes move to him, shining in the wash of light. "Kiss me properly."

Jaskier's mouth curls in a soft smile just like he knew it would, and Geralt meets it with one of his own as he leans over him again.

#the witcher #geraskier #fics.#im soft lads #needed to get a bit of fluff out

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luvdsc · 4 years

Text

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged.

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play.

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode.

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold.

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you.

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One

----

Part Two

25.12.19

When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to figure out where I was and why the pillow my head was resting on was so hard and warm. Once I'd figured it out - that my head was not actually on a pillow, but on Chris' chest - I almost had to roll my eyes. Of course it was. Of course we'd ended up all cuddled together. Because life was just one big romantic comedy, right?

I sighed quietly, silently praying that Chris wasn't awake yet as I slowly slid myself away from him. He didn't stir until I was sitting on the edge of the bed so I was hopeful that he hadn't been aware of the position we were in.

"G'morning," he greeted me, rubbing his eyes as the sound of excited children echoed down the hallway. "What time is it?"

I quickly checked my phone on the nightstand before answering.

"Only seven o'clock," I told him before yawning. "But it sounds like everyone is up and bouncing off the walls already."

"I'm not surprised," Chris smiled. "They've probably torn into all the presents by now."

I laughed and nodded my head, knowing it was a good possibility.

"It probably wasn't super smart to leave Scott out there guarding them by himself," I pointed out. "Not after he spent half the night shaking his own presents trying to guess what was inside."

"Oh, it definitely wasn't," Chris agreed. "He was always the one who ruined things by finding his presents early and getting us all in trouble."

"Well, I should go see what they're up to or if anything can be salvaged," I smiled as I pulled a sweater on over my pyjamas. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he assured me. I headed to the door, but stopped when I heard his voice again. "Hey, Whitney? Merry Christmas."

I smiled even wider as that happy, familiar Christmas morning feeling washed over me.

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

With that, I hurried out the door, trying not to focus too much on how content I felt and how right it seemed to wake up in his arms on Christmas morning.

When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that everyone else was already awake, despite how early it was.

"Good morning," Lisa greeted me as I wandered into the kitchen where all the adults were congregating. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, everyone," I smiled before they all repeated it back to me. "Did I miss all the fun?"

"No, of course not," Carly assured me. "We've managed to keep them away from the presents so far, but I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off."

"We're still waiting for Chris though," Scott pointed out as I grabbed a clean mug and headed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter. "Have you seen him? He disappeared not long after we went to bed and never came back."

"Oh, yeah, he's in his room," I answered mindlessly as I filled my mug. "We ended up sleeping together last night."

I heard Scott almost choke on his coffee and noticed the sudden silence in the room, but it wasn't until Lisa spoke that I realized what I'd said.

"Whitney, honey," she said, speaking softly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh my god, no! Not like that!" I rushed to explain as my cheeks grew hot. "We literally slept together, like as in slept next to each other. Chris came into his room looking for a sweater because he was cold and had given away all his spare blankets so I offered for him to share the bed with me. That's all, I swear."

There were knowing smiles amongst the group and I wasn't entirely sure that they all believed me which made things even more embarrassing as I wouldn't want them to think I'd talk so candidly about things like that with Chris' mother of all people. Before I had a chance to continue desperately defending myself though, a voice from the doorway interrupted.

"What are you swearing about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. "Why do I feel like I missed something good?"

Again, I was ready to explain, but someone beat me to it.

"Whitney was just giving us the update," Scott informed his older brother as he matched his smirk. "She was telling us how you two slept together."

Chris' eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment before he relaxed and let out a chuckle.

"Well, that's not exactly how I would have phrased it," he informed the group with a shrug. "But I suppose it is accurate. We slept and we were together."

"I just misspoke," I groaned. "I haven't had any coffee yet, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"A little Freudian slip?" Carly suggested as she joined in on the teasing, but I simply rolled my eyes.

"Chris probably wishes that was a peak into my subconscious desires, but I'm afraid not. Just a clear sign that I am not a morning person."

"I think we'll all need plenty of coffee to deal with the energy in that living room," Lisa interjected, putting an end to the discussion despite Chris' protests of my claim. "But we should probably go and join them before they open all the presents, whether they belong to them or not."

We all murmured in agreement and everyone topped up whatever beverage they were drinking before we headed to the living room to start the Christmas fun.

"Mama!" Grayson shouted as we entered the room. "Look! Santa came!"

"Of course he did," I smiled at the children. "You've all been good this year so it's no surprise."

They all nodded and agreed enthusiastically except Ethan who, now that he was almost ten, had figured out the truth. He was a good kid though and a loving older brother so he kept the secret, quietly watching them with a knowing smile now that he was finally in on the joke with the adults.

"Can we open them?" Stella asked, bouncing up and down from holding in her excitement. "We've been waiting for so long!"

"I wouldn't say so long," Scott chuckled. "Since it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet!"

"But, yes, you can open them," Carly informed her children. "Just be careful and don't rush."

There was a flurry of activity as the kids dove into the presents, organizing whose was whose before settling down next to their little piles. I took a step back and sat on the couch next to Lisa, letting Chris sit on the floor behind Grayson. It was his Christmas after all and it felt right that he should be the one helping him open presents. Plus, this way I got a perfect view of the joyful grin that was plastered on his face. A grin that was perfectly replicated by his father behind him making my heart clench at the sight of them together like this.

I watched from my spot on the couch as the gifts were opened one by one and soaked in every giggle and shriek of glee from the children. Grayson was on top of the world and so grateful for each and every gift, it was delightful to see. Given our financial security, especially for Chris, it would have been easy to spoil him, but it made me incredibly proud to see how gracious he was.

However, one of the last gifts he wasn't so grateful to receive. It was from me and I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be his favourite, but his response was far worse than I could have imagined.

It was a decent sized box and he tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, intrigued by what could be inside. When he revealed that it was a foot and a half tall electronic T-Rex, his first reaction was one of amazement.

"Wow! A dinosaur!"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Take him out and see what he can do."

Chris set to work helping Grayson open the box before glancing up at me.

"Does he need batteries?"

"I put some in already," I assured him. "I knew he'd want to see it right away so I thought it would be easier."

He nodded as Grayson placed the giant T-Rex on the floor and looked at me expectantly.

"There's a button on his back, press it."

Everyone watched as he poked around until he got the right spot and the dinosaur came to life. He roared and his head moved around, but as the older kids cheered and clapped, Grayson burst into tears.

"Oh, dear..." Lisa smiled as she watched her grandson leap into his father's arms.

Everyone was chuckling at his dramatic reaction as Grayson buried his face in Chris' neck.

"Awe, buddy, I'm sorry!" I apologized. "Did it scare you?"

"Yes! He's scary!" Grayson's response was muffled by Chris' body and hard to understand through his sobs. "I don't wike it, Mama!"

I smiled at the little speech impediment that he inherited from his father - much like the one his cousin, Miles, had - but I did feel bad for how genuinely afraid he was.

"I'm sorry, baby. We can take the batteries out, okay? Then he won't be able to move."

The dinosaur had stopped moving on his own before I spoke and Grayson moved his head from where he was hiding his face, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, please."

"I bought it a while ago, thinking it was the perfect gift and then last week, he suddenly decided that T-Rexes were mean and I thought it might not go down so well," I admitted to the adults as I stretched forward to pick up the dinosaur and take the batteries out. "It's such a shame though, I think he's adorable. If you press the button on his tail, a little song plays and he does a little wiggle dance."

Chris smirked at me as he rubbed our still sniffling son's back.

"Why don't you take him home? Sounds like you might enjoy playing with him when Grayson isn't around."

He was making fun of me, I knew he was, but I didn't take the bait.

"You know what? I might just do that."

Chris opened his mouth to most likely make another teasing comment, but Ethan interrupted him.

"If Grayson doesn't want the T-Rex, can I have it?"

"I think you got enough new toys this morning," Ethan's dad warned him. "Don't be greedy."

"We'll let Grayson keep him for now," Chris agreed. "He might get used to him after a while if he plays with him without the batteries."

I passed the toy in question back to Chris and Grayson cowered away, whimpering against his dad's chest.

"Just leave it for now," I suggested. "We can try it again later when the initial shock has worn off."

Chris nodded and put the dinosaur behind his back and out of sight.

The rest of the gift opening went by smoothly and no more children were traumatized. Once every gift that was under the tree had been opened, we left the kids to test out their new things while the adults headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It was quickly decided that pancakes would be the easiest thing to mass produce for our large group of hungry people and while Lisa, Carly and I started mixing up a few bowls of batter, Chris and Scott whipped out the orange juice and champagne for mimosas.

An hour later everyone was very full and we were two bottles of champagne down.

"So, Whitney," Scott started as he loaded up the dishwasher. "Are you staying here tonight too or are you planning on making us spend half the day shovelling the driveway for you?"

His tone was teasing, but as I looked out the window at the deep blanket of snow that covered the ground outside, I was torn. I didn't want to outstay my welcome by staying another night, but I also didn't want to make the Evans family spend their entire Christmas day shovelling snow and there was no way that I'd be able to do it by myself.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I wasn't planning on staying another night, but it does look like there's a lot of snow out there..."

"Just stay," Chris shrugged. "Even if we can get your car down the driveway, the roads are probably terrible."

"There's no need for you to rush off," Lisa agreed. "Stay another night and then you can just relax and enjoy the day."

"And you can drink if you're not driving home," Scott pointed out with a grin. "Chris and I stocked up on wine, beer, whiskey and gin, these mimosas were just the start of the party."

I couldn't help, but laugh at Scott's reasoning as I nodded my head.

"Alright, I'll stay. If you really don't mind, Chris?"

"Of course not," Chris assured me. "We're happy to have you."

"Great!" Scott grinned. "I'm glad that's settled, I think this calls for another round of drinks!"

Chris cheered and jumped up to help him while the rest of us smiled and shook our heads at their antics.

The day was spent soaking in quality family time, watching the kids enjoy their new toys and indulging in lots of food and drink. We called Chris' dad and my parents and even had an unexpected phone call from my Uncle Rob. He spent more time talking to Chris than me, his own niece, but it was nice to hear his voice even if he made sure to get a dig in about me confessing my supposedly obvious feelings to Chris.

Sitting around the table, eating a delicious meal with Chris' loving and welcoming family was quite a contrast to how I expected to spend the day and I was very grateful that Chris had included me. Grayson seemed to appreciate it too and he made his enjoyment clear as we tucked him into bed once all the fun and feasting was done.

Chris sat on the floor leaning against Grayson's nightstand, reading him his favourite bedtime story while I laid on the bed next to him and rubbed his back. He was drifting off by the time the story was finished, but he was fighting it desperately as he spoke again.

"I'm happy, Mama," he told us, his words muffled as he nuzzled into his pillow.

Chris put his hand over his heart as he mouthed an 'awe' at me and I smiled.

"You're happy?" I clarified quietly, my smile growing as he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, baby."

"I like that you're here," he mumbled. "Daddy should come home with us too."

My heart clenched at that request as my smile faltered. I knew it was only a matter of time until Grayson paid more attention to the fact that his time was divided between two homes, but I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

"Maybe Daddy could come for a sleepover sometime," I suggested, stroking his hair back out of his face, but that wasn't all he wanted.

"He should come all the time."

I was never great at hiding my emotions and from the way Chris was watching me, I assumed my distress at Grayson's comments was written all over my face and I was grateful when he jumped into the conversation.

"But what about Dodger?"

Dodger's ears perked up from his spot at the end of the bed, but he settled again when he realized that Chris wasn't calling for him.

"He can come too," was Grayson's answer to that dilemma, but Chris had a response at the ready.

"C'mon, you think Dodger would have enough space in your Ma's apartment?" He asked. "He needs a big house like this to run around in!"

So then we could all just stay here would be the logical comeback to that, but it seemed our sleepy little guy was too tuckered out from the excitement to argue. He let out a little sigh of defeat, but said no more. We stayed quiet for a few minutes until his breathing shifted and he was soundly asleep.

Chris offered me his hand to help me climb over Grayson without waking him up and, after whispering a quiet request to Dodger to keep our boy safe, he led me out of the room.

"You okay?"

The question came as soon as Grayson's door was pulled to and we were in the hallway.

"Yeah, of course," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Chris shot me a look that clearly showed his disbelief.

"You looked pretty downhearted in there."

"I just worry," I shrugged. "I don't want our situation to upset him and I know he's going to notice it more as he gets older."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "He's got so much love in his life, he won't even notice that his family is a little different."

I wasn't convinced. He was obviously already noticing or he wouldn't have questioned it only moments before. I didn't want to start such a delicate, potentially tense conversation at the end of such a happy day though so I forced a more convincing smile onto my face.

"You're right," I agreed. "But I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't worry."

"Well, there's no time for worryin' on Christmas!" Chris claimed, followed by a grin as he dragged me off towards the kitchen. "What can I get you? Another wine? Maybe some gin? I might have some tequila kickin' around here somewhere..."

"No! No tequila!" I laughed. "Gin would be great, thanks."

Chris nodded and set to work mixing our beverages for the evening before we went to the living room to rejoin his family and I did my best to push any worries about letting Grayson down out of my mind.

After the kids were all in bed, the rest of the evening was spent playing games and sharing drinks. It was heartwarming, wholesome family fun and I was so glad that Scott had encouraged me to stay as the thought of rushing home to my cold, empty apartment wasn't at all appealing.

The only strange thing about the evening was Chris. We were teamed up for most of the games and it was quite amazing how in tune with each other we were as we won everything by a landslide. We'd been friends for a long time and knew each other very well so it was unsurprising to me that we had so much success, but the teasing comments that came from a rather drunk Scott implied other reasons than friendship for our harmony. I scoffed and rolled my eyes every time he cracked a joke about us, but Chris seemed to love it. He was a few drinks in and probably just feeling a little goofy, but the grin on his face after every suggestive comment sparked an odd feeling in my stomach.

It was around ten o'clock when everyone except Chris, Scott and I decided to go to bed. We bid them goodnight and Chris went to top up our drinks before settling back onto the couch beside me. By this time, I was definitely feeling it. I wasn't drunk, but I knew this drink would have to be my last as the flush of my cheeks and the happy, fuzzy feeling in my brain was telling me that it was time to wind it down for the night.

However, as Chris handed me another gin and soda, settled on the couch next to me, placed his drink on the end table beside him and pulled my feet into his lap, my mind suddenly felt surprisingly sharp.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a giggle slipping from my lips.

"Releasing some tension."

As he answered, he began a slow massage of my left foot and I couldn't help, but smile at how wonderful it felt.

"Releasing?" Scott snorted a laugh. "Sure, a foot rub is known for getting rid of tension, not making it worse."

Chris smirked at what Scott was insinuating, but seemed unbothered by it.

"Don't be jealous," he teased, but now it was my turn to smirk.

"Of what?" I questioned. "This foot rub? It's not that great, Scott."

Scott laughed as Chris gasped a tad over dramatically.

"Not that great? I offer you a free foot rub and you can't even be fuckin' grateful?"

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really offended. He did stop massaging my feet though and I whined in protest as he picked up his drink.

"A mediocre foot rub is better than nothing," I pouted. "Keep going."

Chris sipped his whiskey, the smile on his face morphing back into a smirk as he shook his head again, but he did let his hand rest over my ankles and I was happy for even that tiny bit of contact.

Scott changed the subject to some viral video he saw the other day and Chris laughed and chatted along as he absentmindedly let his hand drift up my shin, underneath the loose pyjama pants that I'd changed into shortly after we put Grayson to bed.

My mind was instantly taken back to another time when we'd shared such gentle touches. A time when his lips followed his fingers as they traced kisses up from my ankle all the way to the lacy edge of my underwear. A time when he'd then proceeded to pull that underwear off with his teeth before returning his face back to a very sensitive area.

"Whitney, have you seen it?"

Scott's question snapped me out of my racy daydream. I felt my cheeks flush with colour as I forced my gaze away from Chris' hand over to Scott, reminding myself that even though the look on Chris' face would make it seem otherwise, he couldn't possibly know what I was just thinking of.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I admitted, sipping my drink to try to cool myself down even though it was becoming apparent to me that I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption. "All I seem to watch these days is Paw Patrol."

Chris barked out a laugh and nodded.

"So much Paw Patrol," he agreed. "The kid's obsessed."

"Chase is on the case!" I giggled before changing my voice slightly. "Rubble on the double!"

"Oh my god," Scott laughed, a horrified look on his face. "We need to get you out more."

I shrugged as Chris continued to trace patterns on my shins.

"That's the life of a mom."

"Yeah, but what about when he's with Chris? You must have some sort of life then."

"Scott."

Chris' voice was harsh and warning as what Scott was implying could be taken as offensive, but I wasn't bothered.

"It's fine," I assured him. "I know I'm lame. I don't have much of my own life, I don't really know anyone around here."

"You have Allison," Chris pointed out. "You've mentioned her a lot. She's your friend, right?"

He was referring to my one and only friend in Massachusetts. She was also a photographer and we'd met at a camera store when I first moved here. She'd asked me a question about a new brand of film and we'd ended up having coffee to exchange tips. She realized quickly that I didn't know many people in town and had taken me under her wing.

"She is," I nodded. "But she has three kids of her own and she's married so she doesn't have weeks where she's child free like I do. We hang out when we can, but usually it's with all the kids, not like quality 'girl time'."

"I didn't know that," Chris frowned. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't feel bad for me." I nudged him with my foot. "I have plenty of friends, they're just in LA. I'm happy here."

"I'll take you out for drinks one day," Scott promised. "Even if you're happy, everyone needs to let their hair down a little bit sometimes."

"That would be fun," I smiled, tossing back the last of my drink. "But for now, I think I've let my hair down enough for today. It's time for me to get to bed before all these drinks go to my head."

I slid my feet off of Chris' lap and slowly stood up as he looked up at me.

"Are you cool if I bunk with you again tonight?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Just sneak in quietly if you two stay up too late."

"I'm ready to crash already," Scott informed us. "So, we won't be up much later."

"Okay. Well, goodnight boys," I waved as I headed towards the door. "Thank you for a lovely day."

They chorused a goodnight back to me before I walked down the hall.

I was just coming out of the en suite in Chris' bedroom after brushing my teeth when Chris strolled into the room.

"Hey," I smiled. "Ready for bed already?"

"Scott wasn't lying," he returned my smile. "He was half asleep by the time you made it down the hall."

I laughed as I crawled into bed and settled against the pillows.

"Well, it has been a busy day."

Chris agreed as he grabbed his pyjama pants and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my phone from where I left it on the nightstand, turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and answered a few text messages from my family, figuring I may as well wait the few minutes it would take Chris to get ready for bed before I attempted to get any sleep. When Chris reappeared, I locked my phone again, put it back on the nightstand and snuggled down under the blankets, trying not to stare too much at his chiselled torso. He wasted no time turning off the lamp on his side as well before slipping in next to me, shivering dramatically as he pulled the blankets up over his chest.

"It's so freakin' cold tonight."

I snorted a laugh, shaking my head even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me until our eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maybe if you put on a shirt you wouldn't feel it so much."

"Honestly," Chris started, the smirk evident in his tone despite his face still being hidden in shadow. "Usually, I just sleep naked so these pants are for your benefit."

I felt my cheeks flush as the words 'then by all means, take them off' were on the tip of my tongue. I forced them out of my mind as a long forgotten tingle rolled through my body and I focused on answering him.

"My point was that a t-shirt would provide you with extra warmth," I explained. "So, your point that you usually wear less clothing makes no sense."

The bed shifted slightly as Chris chuckled.

"Well, I can think of another thing that could provide some extra warmth."

"What?"

I felt my heart rate pick up, the blood rushing through my ears so fast that I hardly heard myself answer him as I wondered if he could possibly be implying what it seemed like he was implying.

"You." His voice was low, the same seductive tone he'd used all those years ago, and I felt my mouth go dry. "Come give me a cuddle."

For a moment, I thought I was a lot drunker than I'd realized and that I was hallucinating or in some kind of lucid dream, but that thought brought me to a different realization.

"Chris!" I whispered, my tone scolding and accusatory. "You're drunk!"

A burst of laughter came from the other side of the bed and I quickly shushed him, knowing Grayson was asleep in the room above us.

"I'm not drunk, I promise," Chris assured me as his raucous laughter came under control. "I just thought it was worth a shot. It's nice to have a little cuddle with a beautiful woman sometimes."

I felt another flush of heat run through me, but I rolled my eyes and, as I had the night before, I took a pillow and placed it between us, drawing a clear line in the sand even if that hadn't worked out so well the last time.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight, Whitney."

I rolled over, closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I did try. I really, really did.

But after almost ten minutes of thoughts whirring through my head, I knew it was hopeless and I turned back to face Chris. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see well enough to know that he was laying on his back so I carefully moved the pillow that I'd placed between us and slowly slid over towards him. I felt him tense so I knew he was awake, but he didn't question what I was doing so I continued until my head was on his chest and my arm was draped over his stomach. He stayed perfectly still, just long enough for me to start second guessing myself before he shifted slightly to put his arm around me.

We stayed like that, holding each other in silence, and I had to admit that Chris was right. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with. The physical contact was filling a hole in my touch-starved heart and I tried not to think about how fleeting of a moment it was or how things would be back to normal in the light of day. There was a strange ache in my heart at that thought and I knew I needed to get out of my head.

"Chris?" My voice was soft, just in case he'd drifted off in the last few minutes, but when he tightened his grip on me, I knew he was still awake. "Thank you for inviting me today."

"Of course." He squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

"It's fine," I assured him, letting my hand lazily trace patterns on his skin. "You're under no obligation, you're allowed your time with Grayson without me."

"It's not about obligation. I'd never want you to spend Christmas alone even if Grayson wasn't in the picture."

"I was really dreading it."

My admission made me feel vulnerable as I'd spent so long trying to pretend that I wasn't bothered by the idea of a lonely holiday, but Chris didn't seem surprised.

"Really?" He questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The crying onto your steering wheel didn't give that away at all."

"Shut up," I mumbled, turning my face into his chest to hide my smile at his teasing. "I'm just trying to express my gratitude for your kindness."

"No gratitude is needed. It's been my pleasure having you here today and Grayson loved it."

He kissed the top of my head after he'd finished speaking and almost reflexively, I found myself stretching up and placing a soft kiss of my own against his collarbone. It felt intimate and the moment hung heavy between us. It felt right to me, but I knew instantly that I'd crossed a line. A comforting kiss on the top of my head was one thing, but what I'd done, kissing his bare chest, was inappropriate. My cheeks burned as I tilted my head up to look at him, meeting his eyes as they looked down at me. His expression was unreadable so I opened my mouth to apologize only to be completely shocked when he pressed his head forward and his lips against mine.

The shock quickly morphed into a feeling that could only be described as euphoria. There was something distantly familiar about the way his mouth moved on mine, but it felt strange and new as it wasn't exactly as I'd remembered - and I had spent more time than I'd want to admit reliving the last time we'd shared a kiss like this.

It wasn't until he pressed his tongue against my lips, in an attempt to deepen the kiss, that I snapped out of my daze.

"Chris, wait," I breathed out as I pulled away and stared up at him, my cheeks now flushed much more from excitement than embarrassment. "We shouldn't do this."

"Says who?"

The little voice in my head telling me that I'm about to ruin everything that we've worked hard to create. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as he smirked down at me and licked his lips as if he was preparing for what was to come, I found myself incapable of logic and reason.

"Doesn't matter."

Chris hardly had time to acknowledge my answer before I dove back in for another kiss, moving to a more comfortable position as I straddled his waist.

He completely overwhelmed my senses. The inescapable scent of him surrounding me, the feel of his strong body between my thighs and the soft little sighs of enjoyment that he kept making every time our lips parted for us to take a breath. None of it was doing anything to ease the ache that was growing between my legs and my hands gripped into the sheets where they rested just above his shoulders as I pulled back to look down at him. I needed to see his face to remind myself this was really happening and who it was really happening with as it still felt so unreal.

Chris smiled up at me, his lips looking plumper already, and let his hands settle on my hips to keep me steady.

"You okay?"

I nodded and leaned down to peck his lips again before answering.

"I've never been better."

Chris' smile only widened at that confirmation and he moved his hands down to cup my bum, pressing my hips forward and giving me a moment of friction that I'd been desperately craving. I pressed myself up, pulling my upper body away from him as a gasp fell from my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I was embarrassingly aroused from a few mere minutes of kisses, but it had been a very long time since I'd had any physical contact with a man and my body was already on fire.

I rocked my hips against the toned muscles of his abdomen, soaking in the pleasure that was radiating through me and I was debating whether it would be rude of me to continue until I reached the release that was quickly building inside me. Clearly, Chris was just as intuitive as I remembered as he let out a groan and effortlessly flipped us over so he was on top.

"Not like that," he smirked. "I've been thinking about this for too long, it's not happening like that."

I felt another flush of embarrassment as he could obviously tell what I'd been thinking about doing, but I nodded in agreement.

"But if this is really happening, we need to be quiet," I reminded him. "Everyone's sleeping."

"They're all upstairs, they won't hear," he assured me. "And Scott's on the other side of the house."

He was right, we'd be fine as long as we kept ourselves under control, but it didn't matter anyway as all my doubts disappeared when his lips pressed against my neck. I let my hands slide around his waist, resting on his toned back while his lips continued their trail down my neck and stretched the neck line of my shirt to expose my shoulder. His lips locked onto one spot just above my collarbone, sucking and nipping until I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning.

"Chris," I gasped out, digging my fingernails into his back. "Don't leave a mark."

He backed off a bit, kissing gently against the now sensitive skin.

"It'll be easy to hide," he assured me. "And if I remember correctly, you enjoyed a few bites here and there..."

He opened his mouth to dig his teeth into my shoulder and an image flashed into my mind. A memory of me, bent over with Chris' thumb on my clit as the two fingers he had inside me stroked a particularly delicate spot. He'd placed a soft kiss on the cheek of my bum before sinking his teeth into my skin, sending me over the edge.

I couldn't help, but moan from the combination of the memory and the sensation of his teeth in my shoulder as my hips pressed up against his. Chris seemed to be spurred on by that action as he ground his hips against mine and quickly let his hands slide down to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted it up and for a moment I was lost in the bliss of the sensations he was providing, but as my shirt was raised just past my belly button, I froze.

"Wait!"

My voice firm and demanding and he immediately responded, stopping his actions and looking up to meet my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I bit my bottom lip as I pondered how to voice my concerns. If I didn't say anything, there was a chance that we could get through this without drawing any attention to it, but I couldn't help but think it was better to point it out than have Chris notice on his own.

"I just..." I breathed out, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. "I just look different now."

"What?"

Chris pulled back even further, looking down at me with genuine confusion in his eyes and my cheeks burned as I tried to puzzle out how to explain my feelings in a way that didn't make me look shockingly insecure.

"Since I had Grayson, since the last time we did this," I clarified, my cheeks burning as I brought my flaws to his attention. "I look different. Like, I have stretch marks and my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be."

Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see Chris' jaw clench as it did when he was annoyed and trying to bite his tongue. Panic flooded through me as I wished I'd kept my mouth shut, but his next words astounded me.

"Get outta here," he huffed. "You think I care about that?"

I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his chest as I regretted ever opening my mouth.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Lots of men probably would."

Chris moved back, slowly sliding his body down, away from mine and I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop him and hold him against me as long as I could, but I was powerless to do anything, but watch. My heart sank, thinking he was going to roll off of me any minute now, but then he stopped. His face was level with my lower stomach and turned his eyes back towards my face.

"This body," he started, placing a kiss on my stomach. "This stomach, these stretch marks." He kissed the faint lines that were now barely visible on my skin despite how vibrant they were in my mind. Then he continued up, lifting my shirt as he went until it was resting above my breasts, my nipples hard from the chill in the air and the anticipation I was feeling. "These boobs." He kissed and nipped at the delicate skin, tracing all the way along until he captured a nipple in his mouth, teasing it briefly with his tongue. "They changed because you gave me my son, the greatest gift you could have given me. I have nothing, but gratitude for that and you're still the most fuckin' beautiful woman I've ever seen."

He was exaggerating. I knew he was exaggerating. He saw and worked with Hollywood's most elite actresses and models, there was no chance that I was even close to the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. But he managed, again, to push all doubts from my mind as his lips set to work, this time focusing on my left nipple while he shifted his weight and freed a hand to stroke and pinch the right.

They were sensitive, they always had been, and the way that Chris was working them right now was almost too much. My head fell back and my hands dropped to the sheets as I tried to focus on enjoying the sensations and not immediately demanding for Chris to move lower, to give me more, to touch me where I wanted to be touched with increasing need. He was always paying attention though and before I even needed to voice my request, he let his mouth slip from my nipple and trail back down my stomach.

He nipped at the skin just above my pyjama pants before hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. I tugged my shirt over my head at the same time before laying back against the pillow, completely naked underneath him.

"Beautiful."

He'd muttered the word, almost more to himself than to me, but the sincerity in his voice flooded a new kind of warmth through my body. I tried to push it down, focusing on what we were doing, what this was and all it could be. Because yes, I loved Chris, but this wasn't that. This wasn't making love, this was a simple release of sexual tension. I didn't need my feelings getting in the way and making this complicated or I was going to get myself hurt.

I'd been so lost in my head that I hadn't noticed how my legs had fallen apart for Chris to settle between them or how he'd spread me with his fingers, opening me up for him to enjoy. It wasn't until I felt a slow, gentle lick right over my clit that I snapped back into the moment. With a gasp, my hips pressed up to meet his mouth, trying frantically to keep the friction now that it was finally there.

"Easy," Chris warned me, chuckling as he pulled back slightly, earning a whine from me. "We'll get you there, don't worry."

A feeling of desperation was building up inside of me and as he blew gently on the very sensitive parts of me that were in front of him, I was about ready to start begging.

"Please," I whimpered, moving my hand to his hair in case he got any bright ideas about pulling back any further, but I was relieved when he let out a groan and finally gave up on his teasing.

Suddenly I was aware of nothing, but Chris' mouth on me. My back arched as he licked up from the bottom of my core to the top, swirling his tongue around, exploring every little nook and cranny before settling his focus back on my clit. It was like he'd studied me, like he'd committed our previous brief encounter to memory and remembered exactly what I responded to as he licked and sucked with just the right amount of pressure and speed to have me panting as my grip tightened in his hair.

It had only been moments, but I could already feel the pressure building inside me, bubbling closer towards the surface. Chris, as if sensing this, eased off just slightly to slide his tongue a bit lower, pressing it against my entrance, dipping just barely inside, before replacing it with one of his fingers. I felt myself clench at the sensation, my body desperate for relief, desperate for something more inside me and Chris obliged, adding a second finger almost immediately.

"So wet, baby," he hummed, placing a kiss on the inside of my upper thigh.

I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to formulate any kind of response, but Chris didn't bother waiting for one anyway before putting his lips back on my clit. The combination of his fingers and his mouth had me seeing stars and another whimpered plea slipped from my lips as he flicked his tongue against me. He was focused and determined, groaning against me after a particularly sharp tug on his hair when he angled his fingers inside me to find that one particular spot that made me see stars.

He stroked it once. Then twice. And on the third that coil that had been tightening inside me snapped. I covered my mouth with my free hand just in time to bite down and muffle the scream that Chris pulled from me as my hips thrust up towards him and I spasmed around his fingers as I fell over the edge.

Chris coaxed me through it, easing his attentions as I came down from the high I was feeling. He slid his fingers out of me, looking up to meet my eyes before licking them clean. I groaned, feeling myself twitch with arousal at the sight despite my heart still racing from the orgasm I had just had. He flashed me a smirk before crawling up my body and pressing his lips against mine again.

I sighed happily into the kiss, letting my hands slide down his back, just teasing the top of his pants as I reluctantly separated our mouths.

"Take these off."

My tone left little room for argument and Chris looked down at me with a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am."

He lifted his body off of mine just long enough for me to shiver from the loss of the warmth he was providing, but he quickly returned once his pants were discarded. He stayed slightly lower when he returned, turning his attention back to my chest, taking my left nipple in his mouth this time and using his hand to tease the other. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but I fought the urge to simply lie back and let him do what he wanted with me. I wanted more, I needed more and I didn't want to wait any longer.

"Chris," I whined. "Please, fuck me."

Looking down, I could see his eyes widen in surprise at my blunt demand. He let his mouth slip off my nipple before giving it one last little nip, just hard enough to make me gasp from the slight twinge of pain.

"As you wish."

He reached down between us, taking a moment to slip his two fingers back inside me. He spread them out, gently stretching me and I was grateful. From my memory, Chris was thick and it had been approximately three years and five months since I last had sex (not that I was counting).

Once Chris was satisfied that I was adequately prepared, he pulled his fingers back and guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance. I tried to relax as he slowly stretched me open, but even as my mind revelled in the bliss I was feeling, a thought hit me that made my eyes widen and body stiffen.

"Chris!" I gasped out, gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly. "Condom!"

His head dropped down and he grunted as if he was using the last of his restraint to pull out of me.

"Shit," he cursed. "How could we forget that again?"

"I guess we don't learn from our mistakes," I smiled, despite the pang in my heart as the voice in my head chimed in again to say 'clearly not or you wouldn't be about to fuck him and break your own heart again'. "Do you have one?"

Chris nodded, rolling off me for just long enough to reach over to the bedside table. He pulled one out of the drawer, ripped it open and slid it on with impressive speed before crawling back over me.

"Now," he smirked. "Where were we?"

He looked down as he guided himself inside me again. The initial stretch wasn't as intense the second time around, but it grew as he pushed deeper and my breath hitched once he was fully inside. Chris stilled, sensing my discomfort as he dropped his head to kiss along my jaw until his lips rested just below my ear.

"You good?"

"Mhmm," I nodded, breathing out and shifting my hips as I started to adjust. We stayed like that, connected but still, for a few moments until I felt the tension ease a bit. "You can move."

"You sure?" Chris looked at me with concern on his face, but I nodded.

That was all the reassurance he needed as he began slowly moving his hips. He pulled his lips back from where they rested near my ear and pressed them against mine.

He kissed me deeply, passionately, as he created a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with his hips pressing hard against mine with each thrust. His biceps bulged and strained to support his weight through the movement and he eventually let his mouth fall away from mine as he could no longer hold back a groan. That noise, and the grunts that followed, made me twitch around him as if my body was doing everything it could to keep him inside me, to keep the pleasure that it had been craving for so long.

I could feel him dragging against every inch inside me, brushing against every nerve and stretching me just enough to keep me constantly impressed by how big he was. It was somehow too much, but not enough all at the same time and I hitched my leg higher up on his waist to help him get closer, deeper, if at all possible.

"Good girl..."

Chris' words hummed encouragingly against my collarbone where he placed another soft kiss before pulling back. He placed his hand on the back of my knee and lifted it even higher, opening me up for him even more.

My head dropped back against the pillow on the next stroke as his cock slid against that delicious spot inside me where his fingers had been only minutes before. He was watching, looking down between us to see me wrapped around him, see me taking him all the way every time he pushed in. I could hear him mumbling praises, compliments about how well I was doing, but I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the pleasure emanating from between my legs to do anything, but moan in response.

He slowed for a moment, leaning down, my leg catching on his shoulder and pressing it even higher as he reminded me to be quiet. He nipped my ear lobe, pulling a whimper from my lips before moving back and picking his pace up again. I knew he was right, but it was hard, next to impossible even, to hold back the noises that were bubbling in my throat.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into his skin as I attempted to control my volume and silently cursed Chris when he shifted his weight just enough to put the pressure of each thrust back on just the right spot. He moved his thumb down to brush over my clit, but it barely took a few strokes for me to fly over the edge.

It felt like my whole world exploded as I clenched around him, a low moan slipping past the lip between my teeth. The tingle ripped through every part of my body, every muscle quivering with pleasure, as Chris picked up the pace even more, with one final burst of speed until he stilled, letting out a deep, rumbling groan of his own before pumping in and out a few final times.

Once he'd stopped his movements completely, he let my leg lower to the bed, collapsing against my chest as he fought to catch his breath. I drifted my hand up to stroke the damp hairs on the back of his neck and soaked in the blissful feeling, a feeling I'd dreamt about since the last time I had the pleasure of enjoying it.

We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris reluctantly pulled back, letting out a soft groan as he slid out of me.

"I'll be right back."

I admired Chris' ability to walk already as all I had the strength to do was nod and shift back to my side of the bed. When Chris reappeared a few minutes later after disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I could barely keep my eyes open. He climbed back under the blankets and shifted over towards me until he could pull me right against his chest with our legs intertwined.

"That was nice," I sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms as I nuzzled my nose into his toned pecs.

They shook as he chuckled and a giggle slipped from my lips as well.

"It was," he agreed, kissing the top of my head the same way he had at the start of this little rendezvous.

There was a heaviness in the air, the underlying unspoken words and the conversation that needed to be had hung between us, but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. I'd spent so much time thinking about this, what it would be like to be in his arms again, I couldn't bare to say anything that might make him pull away and snap out of the moment of insanity we'd slipped into.

So, I didn't and neither did he. With one final, gentle kiss goodnight, we stayed tightly in our embrace until we drifted off into a contented sleep.

Part Three

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans x ofc #chris evans smut #once bitten twice shy

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zsocca55 · 3 years

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Hello There fellow Hungarian from Poland!

Do you have aby headcanons about Poland or Polish and Hungarian Relations?

Yay, another Pole! :D Much, much love from Hungary to you guys! ❤️❤️❤️ I tried to summarize my thoughts in short sentences but….eh… sorry for the length of this, but there is like, a ton of history to work with, and one idea popped up after another and then I just got lost typing this. I might as well write a whole book about it. XD

These are listed in more or less historical order. Am I doing this right? I’m bad at making headcanons! Also my interpretation of Poland is very different from his Hetalia presentation and my notes are based heavily on how Poland and Polish people are perceived in Hungary. Sorry if that bothers anyone, but I like to stay accurate to History.

Anyway, I hope this list satisfies!

Poland:

-Used to be really childish and carefree but after the partitions he matured rather quickly

-He is quite the attention-seeker, very social and has many friends but only a few real ones and he has trust issues and fear of abandonment - that’s why he can get very clingy

-Has pride like the size of the moon

-Communicates his emotions poorly - which results in him sometimes mistreating people he likes (Lithuania and Ukraine for example) - he is getting better at reading people though

-He is a “lets get shit done” type of person - you give him a job and he will do it impeccably and in time

-He appears like this happy-go-lucky guy, but it’s actually a coping mechanism

-When he feels down, he becomes emotional - and drinks a lot - he is an emotional drunk

-Had a big fat crush on Ukraine (he even has a folk song dedicated to her, Hej Sokoły!)

-Complains a lot - like a really lot

-Poland keeps old gifts he received from his great kings and queens in a safe (nobody knows about it though)

-The partitions caused him to lose consciousness for weeks. It was the shock of losing his identity as a ‘state’. All countries involved believed that he would die.

-Poland lived with Russia between 1795-1918 due to Russia possessing most of his territory. But he often made official visits to Austria and Prussia to negotiate the treatment of his people with them. He also got away on his own a few times (to help out Hungary in 1848-49 for example).

-Poland accompanied Tadeusz Kościuszko to America, but couldn’t stay for long. Youthful America’s enthusiasm inspired him a lot.

-He is a very bad driver, and had so many accidents he doesn’t keep count, but he is a skilled pilot so he often complains about not being allowed to fly around instead of driving around.

Poland and Hungary:

-Poland was also victim of Hungarian tribal attacks before the 10th century so his boss decided to befriend the new southern neighbour in hopes of making an ally. At first Hungary thought Poland was a girl while he thought she was a boy.

-Hungary first met a Polish tribe called “Lendzianie” and so she named his people “lengyel”. Poland never corrected her though.

-They paid visits to each other often during the early decades of the 10th century and played a lot. Once they jumped in a lake for fun’s sake, without clothes, and Poland quickly realized that Hungary is in fact a girl but he hadn’t got the heart to break the news to her because she was so confident in being a boy.

-They got distanced whenever internal crisises rose in their countries. Even up to this day, if one of them has an internal struggle, the other doesn’t pry and keeps a respectful distance. They respect each others boundaries in every way.

-Poland and Hungary were married twice, but all they ever did was giggle about it like the young teens they were and caused a lot of trouble for their kings with their pranks and mischiefs.

-Poland never understood why Hungary’s attention turned towards Austria in the 1400s though. Hungary also never understood why his attention turned towards Lithuania either.

-Poland and Hungary have a very similar residing scar running in three directions across their bodies which are testimony to them being thorn in three. Poland during the partitions and Hungary during the Ottoman-Habsburg invasions when she was also basically three entities in one.

-Poland fought with Hungary against Austria in 1848-49 but was dragged back by Russia when Hungary lost. He learned of her marriage to Austria through a newspaper much later and was severely disappointed in her.

-Poland tried to negotiate with the Allies in order to save Hungary from being chopped up and lose their shared border, but France faced him with a decision: either shut up and get a place on the map or refuse the treaty and have less territory. Poland never ratified the treaty but he still resents not fighting it more.

-Hungary tried to help Poland during his war with the soviets in 1920-22 but because Czechoslovakia refused to grant access to him out of spite, she turned to Romania of all people, pleading him to help. Romania actually helped.

-Hungary was pretty shaken and isolated from everyone after WW1. Only Poland and North Italy reached out to her, searching ways to keep in contact.

-Hungary resents joining the wrong side in WW2, which made her and Poland enemies. She tried to make the best of the situation and help Poland when her troops were stationed on his territory. They met accidentally in a forest while Poland was marching with partisans towards Warsaw in 1944. She helped him out but Prussia found them and Hungary pretended to take Poland hostage in order to release him later during the night. Her men were killed for fraternizing with the enemy.

-During the German occupation in Poland it was forbidden to listen to Polish nationalist songs and so Hungary and her men played “God save Poland” on repeat just because they could and Poland and his people were very thankful for it.

-When the Iron Curtain was drawn, Hungary hid away in her land, depressed, but Poland kept fighting the new rule until the Poznan protests inspired the uprising in Budapest in 1956. Originally Hungary organized a solidarity march for him but it turned into a freedom fight. She was struck down by Russia though, leaving her bleeding out on her streets with a hole in her chest. Poland flew to Budapest and offered his own blood to save her. Hungary remained unconsious for a week until she woke up. He was at her bedside the whole time.

-Poland often jokes about Hungary probably inheriting his “immortality” because of the blood transfusion.

-Hungary hid away again after 56. He tried to help Hungary get over her trauma by visiting her often during the rest of their years in the Soviet Union, but something broke in her and he didn’t really know what to do.

-This put a certain distance between them.

-After the USSR fell, Poland was quick to make new friends and make up with his neighbours but Hungary came out of her shell much slower. She did admire him for his strength to move on. He also encouraged her a lot to get up and improve her country.

-Hungary considers him her only real friend. She doesn’t trust anybody else with her life anymore. Out of gratitude, she decided to declare a special day for Poland (March 23) and when he heard of it, he actually teared up.

-Nowadays they visit each other on their Independence Days and celebrate together. They also go and cheer for each other’s football teams with hundreds of Poles chanting “Ria, ria, Hungaria!” and hundreds of Hungarians chanting “Polska! Polska!” on the streets.

-After hearing the song “Varsó hiába várod” from the band Republic, Poland thought Warsaw is indeed too far from Budapest so he made a plan to build a railroad so they can come and go between each other’s capitals in five hours. The idea is under construction at the moment.

-Poland and Hungary like to think that they are the heart of V4.

-Hungary goes along with whatever mischief or prank Poland makes up. And vica versa.

-They also promote their friendship with so much enthusiasm that Romania often calls them out for being too mushy.

Uh, thanks for reading through this! I know this is a lots of text, I get carried away when making up ideas. I’m unable to summarize my thoughts in short sentences. I don’t have the ability.

Also 50% of this is not even headcanon, some of these really happened or are happening.

Anyway, I hope I answered your question! :’)

#hetalia #hws #aph #hetalia hungary #hetalia poland #hws hungary #hws poland #polish-hungarian friendship #polish-hungarian relations #this history is rich #i love them so much #and I love Poles so much #headcanons but not really #q&a #zsocca #zsocca55 #polhun

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE BLOOD Vol.2: Mukami Kou [Track 1+2]

Original title: 目隠しされて & 無神コウ

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 2: Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here (00:00~14:03)

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Continuing my marathon of MB CDs, everyone’s favorite idol Kou-kun is up next! I’m not a huge Kou fan myself, but he’s the main bias of my best friend so I’m always reminded of her when I translate his CDs. :p I used to find his voice quite annoying in the past, but in this CD, it didn’t bother me too much.

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

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Track 1: Blindfolded

“...Hey!”

*Creaaak*

“Hey, you...!”

*Creaaak*

“Are you listening?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Say, say...~”

*Rustle rustle*

[00:15] “...Ah! Seems like you finally woke up! Ahー Thank god! You just kept on snoozing forever, for a second I thought you’d never wake up again!”

You look around, seeming confused.

“Eh? You want to know where you are...? Eeh...~ How cruel! You don’t recall? ーー Everything that happened before getting here, I mean.”

You flinch.

“Ahaha~ Seems like you remembered, huh? Exactly. I kidnapped you here~”

You ask him why.

[00:52] “...’Why’? You’ve been asking an awful lot of questions this whole time, haven’t you? Oh well, I guess it can’t be helped. After all, you’re currently stuck in pitch-black darkness. I guess it makes sense to grow anxious or scared...Fufufu~ But rest assured.”

*Rustle*

“I’ll explain the whole situation step by step, okay? First and foremost, you’re currently blindfolded, lying on top of my - Mukami Kou-kun’sーー

*Rustle*

ーー bed, you see~”

*Rustle rustle*

[01:31] “As for why I kidnapped you. Hmー There’s a few, but one of them would be because you’re a special human. ...Fufu~ Do you know what that means? It basically implies that you’re in a different league from just any other regular human out there. You might not be aware of it yourself, but to our species, your existence stands out as extraordinary.”

*Rustle*

“Actually, you know that already, don’t you? You’re being kept as a pet over at the Sakamaki manor after all.”

You protest.

“...Eh? You’re not being ‘kept’? Ah, sorry, sorry! I didn’t quite put it right, did I? I take back my words. More accurately, you’re their...prey, aren’t you?”

He pins you down.

*Thud*

[02:23] “Fufu...Ahahaha~ No need to look so dissatisfied. It’s the truth, isn’t it? Besides, that’s the second reason which made me interested in you so I dare argue it’s a good thing?”

*Creaaak*

“Hm? You want to know who I am? Didn’t I name myself earlier? You’ve got such bad memory.”

You shake your head.

[02:51] “Ah...That’s not what you meant? Ahー Gotcha. Hm...Can I spill the beans already? But I feel like Ruki-kun will give me an earful if I do and he’s a pain to deal with when he’s upset. ...Let’s see...~ Fufu...~ I’ll tell you when I feel like it, okay?”

*Creaaak*

“Anyway, I gave you an answer to your questions so happy now? More importantly, I want to know about you first. All sorts of things...~”

*Rustle*

[03:32] “We actually managed to get a hold of their weakness, so just like Ruki-kun is always saying, I should get an idea of what I’m dealing with. So to start off, I better do a little investigating to find out what exactly makes you so special...~”

*Rustle rustle*

“Fufu~ You’re shaking...My touch is still foreign to you, isn’t it? No need to be so scared though. I’m a nice guy after all.”

He pulls you close.

[04:04] “Here, I’ll stroke your head for you. ...Good girl, good girl...So stop trembling, okay?”

*Rustle*

“Hm...You’re more alert than I thought. Fufu~ You’re letting them have their way with you despite that?”

You protest again.

[04:28] “How odd...Or perhaps you’re simply feigning this cautious attitude? In that case, you’re one hell of a naughty kitten~ They say that a skillful hunter gets a kick out of going after highly alert prey and honestly, I think I may understand where they’re coming from. It’s boring when something is too easy to get. ーー I can already get my hands on pretty much everything I want through my job after all.”

*Rustle*

“...Ah! But I don’t really like how I’m implying those guys are skilled by saying that. What do you think? As the one they’re hunting for, how do you feel about them?”

You remain quiet.

[05:17] “Heeey~ Aren’t you going to answer? Giving me the silent treatment is a little mean, don’t you think? Hmー I guess it’s a little difficult of a question to start off with. In that case, let me ask you an easy one. Ah, right! How about this? ーー Does it really feel good to have them suck your blood? You know, does it make you feel like you’ve ascended to another world? Like your body is just floating mid-air~”

*Rustle*

“...No answer once again? You really are dull, geez. What will get you to talk? Should I ask you about your favorite spots? Or perhaps you really don’t care about those guys at all?”

*Rustle*

[06:12] “Ahー I’m kind of fed up with this already. I’m out here trying my best to be nice and all I get in return is the cold shoulder. What are you playing at?”

You explain.

“...You can’t say those things to someone you’ve only just met? Heh~ I see...That makes sense now that you mention it. In that case, I suppose I have to introduce myself first.”

Track 2: Mukami Kou

He removes the blindfold.

*Rustle*

“Here. Take a cloooose look at my face. I removed your blindfold as well. See? I’m this close to you. Our lips could almost touch.”

You look straight at him.

[00:19] “...Fufu~ Can you see me? I guess I should say ‘nice to meet you’? I’m sorry for suddenly abducting you like that earlier~ However, it would have been difficult to take you away otherwise. I guess you could say it was the optimal timing? It really was my one chance.

...Say, are you the type who doesn’t watch television very often? Well, I guess you don’t strike me as a girl who would.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Ah, no, I’m just talking to myself. I just figured that you’d probably recognize me if you watched TV every now and then. Not that it matters though.”

*Rustle*

[00:57] “But really, things went surprisingly well if I may say so myself. I’m sure those guys are frantically looking around for you right about now. After all, their precious little treat was snatched away from right underneath their nose, haha~! Fufu...Ahahaha! Just remembering those foolish expressions on their faces makes me laugh.”

*Rustle rustle*

“And I’m going to dig into their precious meal soon...Haah...Somehow just being this close to you makes my breath hitch.”

*Rustle*

“Is this what you’re capable of? Say, how come you’re this delicious?”

*Sniff sniff*

“...You smell amazing. What kind of scent is this? Hm...~”

Kou takes a deep breath.

[01:55] “I can’t get enough of it...I wonder where it’s coming from?”

*Sniff sniff*

“Not here...”

*Rustle*

“Then here maybe?”

*Sniff*

“I can’t quite tell through your clothes...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Why not take them off? It’s not like you need them, do you? ...Come on, hurry. The scent on the fabric is throwing me off.”

*Rustle*

“Come on, go ahead!”

You hesitate.

[02:29] “...Hurry up, will you? You might not guess it, but I’m not the most patient guy around. If you refuse to take them off yourself...You’re not going to have a good time.”

You refuse.

“...Tsk. Ahー What a fucking drag! Do you think I’m a joke or something? Do you have any idea what’ll happen if you oppose me like that?”

*Creaaak*

“Ugh...”

*Thud*

“I’ve gotten a little irritated you see. And once that happens, everything starts to annoy me. So that look you’re giving me...Ahaha...It pisses me off.”

*Rustle*

[03:12] “...I’m going to gauge out those eyes of yours, for real. I happen to kind of like that sorta stuff.”

You start taking off your clothes.

“...Huh? You’re gonna strip? Ahー So you’ve chosen to obey? How boring. I just had so many good ideas of things to do to you.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Anyway, if you’re just gonna bend to someone’s will in the end anyway, wouldn’t it be better to simply listen from the very start? Or did you want me to snap at you?”

You shake your head.

“Ah, I see! Right! You’re that kind of girl, aren’t you? You wanted me to lose my temper...so I’d treat you horribly, right? Fufu~ What an M-neko-chan you are~”

You seem confused by the nickname.

[04:03] “Hm? You want to know what ‘M-neko’ means? Isn’t that obvious? You’re more stupid than I thought. The ‘M’ is the same one as in ‘Do-M’, duh! Masochists, you know? You’re the type of girl who gets a kick out of the pain, aren’t you?”

*Creaaak*

“With that kind of personality, I can understand why you’d enjoy spending time with those guys. We’re capable of pleasing you in ways a regular human never could after all. Fufu...~ Is it true the pain is addictive?”

You try and explain.

[04:45] “When you put it like that, I almost want to turn into a human girl for one day and have a bunch of Vampires feast upon my blood~ Well, of course, I much prefer being the one doing the sucking. ...Aah, I was told this as well. Apparently having your blood sucked feels like strong currents of electricity running through your entire body, is that true? How nice~ I’m envious~”

You frown.

“That being said, I’d rather not get bitten myself. I’d love to get a taste of that pleasure, but I’d rather die than let some other Vampire pierce me with his fangs. Heh~ ...Ah, oh no, I’ve been rambling...”

*Rustle*

[05:39] “Come on, take those clothes off. I’ll figure out where this delicious scent is coming from first. You’re hiding it underneath that dull (1) outfit of yours, aren’t you? ーー Your precious secret~”

You start to take off the rest of your clothes.

“Fufu...Exactly~ You’ve got to show me your meek side like that, or else I might just poke your eyes out~”

You tell him you’re done.

[06:08] “...Eh? You took them off? Now don’t be ridiculous. When I say ‘strip’, I obviously meant everything, right? You move your jacket to the side a little and call that ‘taking off your clothes’? Heeh...You really must be making fun of me, aren’t you? ...Listen, I hate being ridiculed more than anything...There are many girls in this world who would kill to be in this kind of situation with me, you know? Yet here you are, living that dream...”

*Rustle*

“Ah, right! You’re just pretending to be embarrassed but you’re actually happy, aren’t you?”

*Rustle*

“Oh! Or perhaps...You want me to rip you apart? I would never resort to such violent actions though. I mean, there’s nothing fun about tearing apart someone who won’t even scream from the pain, is there? Fufu...~”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) More specifically, he describes her clothes as lacking even the faintest hint of sexiness.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kou mukami #diabolik lovers more blood #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

95 notes · View notes

stardusttrashed · 3 years

Text

Lovestruck

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Sasha x Connie

Word Count: 4K

Part 2

“Have you ever seen a man that good-looking?” You hummed at Sasha’s comment, not even bothering to look up from your screen to see who she was referring to. “I mean, wow! He’s like a greek god or something.”

Connie rolled his eyes in amusement at his girl’s rambles. “He does have nice eyebrows,” he joined in.

She whipped her head towards Connie with a dumbfounded smile. “Right?! He could probably cut someone with those cheekbones.”

With a sigh, you looked up from your laptop, finally indulging the two. “Who’s the so-called Greek god,” you asked in an unamused tone. Your eyes followed Sasha’s finger through the fairly empty coffee shop until they landed on a man sitting alone by the window.

Sasha was right, which didn’t often happen unless it involved food. He was intimidatingly perfect, chiseled from his face to his body. The sunlight hung around him like a cloak, providing an angelic glow that shadowed his strong cheekbones and jawline. He leaned casually in the chair, his large frame towering over the plastic structure as his arm rested on the table. His hand loosely held onto the cup in front of him, ever ready to take another sip. His other hand held a book in the air. The book looked small in his hands like it was merely a phone.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he glanced up from his book, giving you a perfect view of his face. You couldn’t believe your eyes. More accurately, you couldn’t believe the cerulean eyes and incredibly thick eyebrows you saw. “You’re shitting me,” you breathed in disbelief. Sasha and Connie turned to face you with curious expressions. You bit back a girlish smile and shook your head, “it’s nothing.” You shrugged off their unconvinced looks and quickly added, “I just, uh, I used to have him as a teacher.”

Sasha’s eyes practically bulged out of her head at your words, “you’re telling me you had that-” she gestured to the man across the room, “- for a teacher, and I’m just now hearing about this?! How’d you even focus? What’d he teach? Was he always this good-looking? Does he still teach?” Connie opened his mouth to interject, but Sasha cut him off by placing her finger on his lips. “No, I’m going to Mystery inc. this and get to the bottom of this. She’s been withholding valuable information!”

You let out a chuckle and ducked your head in embarrassment. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you trailed off. “It was years ago. He probably doesn’t even remember me.” You tried to sound as carefree as possible despite the butterflies at the thought.

“That’s not what I-” Sasha quickly shut her mouth as another voice joined the conversation.

“I thought it was you,” a smooth husky voice cut in. You looked up to see the greek god smiling gently at you. His thick eyebrows knitted together nervously when you didn’t reply after a moment. “Y/n, right?”

Your cheek warmed as your name fell from his lips. It fell from his lips so naturally like it belonged there, filling you with an indescribable warmth. “Mr. Smith,” you breathed as a giddy smile formed on your lips. “It’s been a while.” You wet your lips as you not so subtly looked him up and down. He was a lot more muscular now than he was a few years ago. He had practically doubled in size since you last saw him. The rolled-up sleeves of his off-white button-up shirt clung to his arms desperately. A few buttons were left open, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his collarbone.

Sasha was right. He was nothing short of a greek god. He was enough to make statues envious.

The worry in Erwin’s face dissipated into a dreamy grin, “far too long.” You looked exactly like he remembered you, gorgeous. He cleared his throat as he looked down at the book in his hand. “I was passing by and saw you,” his icy blue eyes met yours. “I was going to ask if you would like to catch up, but I see you’re busy.”

“She’d love to,” Connie quickly answered for you, nudging Sasha under the table.

“Yeah, don’t worry about us,” Sasha stammered as she rose from her seat. “We had things planned anyway.”

“Right,” you drawled, turning your attention towards the couple that was preparing to leave.

“Yeah, so we’ll see ya later,” Connie hurriedly responded. His words spilled out like water from a broken dam as he gathered your stuff for you. You opened your mouth to protest, but you knew anything you said would only fall on deaf ears. Connie stood up and walked off hand and hand with Sasha.

You could hear their mischievous giggles until they were finally out of sight. You shook your head with a chuckle before looking back up at Erwin. “Well, Mr. Smith, it looks like you’re in luck. My schedule just so happened to free up.” You shrugged, flashing him a gentle smile, “what a coincidence.”

“Looks like it was meant for us to catch up,” Erwin remarked with a nervous chuckle. He offered his hand to you, helping you out of your seat. He tucked his book under his arm, freeing his other hand so he could grab your bag for you before handing it to you.

A bashful smile graced your lips at his actions as you mumbled a quiet ‘thank you.’ You had always pictured him as quite a gentleman, but his chivalrous acts melted your heart. You walked by his side quietly until you reached a nearby park. Erwin led you under a tree, stopping you so he could lay his jacket on the ground for you to sit on.

“Hope you’re not trying to impress me, Mr. Smith,” you giggled, sitting down on his suit jacket. Your hands absentmindedly busied themselves, smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat.

“Just doing what feels right.” He chortled as he sat beside you. “And it’s just Erwin.”

“Alright, just Erwin,” you joked in a silky voice.

He laughed his first real laugh of the day, the sound coming from deep with his stomach. “Still as witty as ever.” His ocean eyes never left your face once, too stunned to look anywhere else.

He could still remember the first time he laid eyes on you. You took his breath away from the very beginning. Every part of you intrigued him, from your looks to your brain. The way the sun shined off your melanin skin made you look like nothing short of a goddess in his eyes. The golden highlight was almost too much for him to take. There was a glow about you that he couldn’t find anywhere else no matter how hard he looked. It didn’t matter if you were outside or under the dead fluorescent lights of the classroom, you were a star, demanding attention without ever really trying.

“Wow,” he breathed quietly after a moment. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

You giggled shyly and rolled your eyes. “Wish I could say the same about you. You look like you could give Chris Evans a run for his money.” You enjoyed the small blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m serious. The Mr. Smith- er, Erwin I knew wasn’t as,” you trailed off, growing too embarrassed to continue. You looked down at your pants instead, picking at the threads.

Erwin was thankful you stopped yourself from continuing. He didn’t think his cheeks could handle any more compliments from you. Had you continued, he probably would’ve ended up looking like a tomato. “Thank you.” He scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly.

You fought back a cheeky smile as you noticed him timidly look away. Despite his outer appearance, he was a big softie. It was like being next to the big friendly giant. “So, what do you do for a living nowadays? You still a teacher?”

“I am actually, they made me one of the official creative writing professors. It doesn’t leave much free time for writing anymore, but I love it nonetheless.” He smiled wistfully as he watched the people walk past. A few quiet moments passed before he brought his attention back to you. “Y’know, I’ve seen a lot of bright students come and go, but none have been quite as amusing as you.” Erwin bit the inside of his cheek, hoping he wasn’t being too forward.

You shrugged off his comment, oblivious to their hinting undertone, “we were a good class and your first class. Of course, we’re going to leave an impression on you.”

He hummed thoughtfully in reply as if that wasn’t what he was getting at. “What about you? What’d you end up doing?”

“I guess you can say I took after my favorite teacher and became a writer.” You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, gauging his reaction.

“I was your favorite teacher?” Erwin couldn’t help the bashful smile that forced its way onto his face.

“Wow,” you dragged out dramatically with a teasing smile. You met Erwin’s steady gaze and playfully pushed his arm. It took every ounce of self-control not to leave your hand resting on his bicep. You pushed the thought aside, choosing to continue to tease him instead. “Someone’s cocky! You aren’t the only teacher I had who wrote.”

“Then who, if I may ask, was it?”

“Just some teacher, you probably wouldn’t know them. Y’know big campus and all.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Right,” Erwin drawled out with an amused smile. “Well, just in case you ever need some help or a writing buddy-,” he fished around in his pockets before pulling his phone out, “-maybe I should give you my number.” His eyes flashed down to his phone. “Just assuming your favorite professor is busy or anything.”

You chewed on your lip, fighting back a playful smile. “Of course, there’s no such thing as too many connections.” Erwin hummed in response, handing you his phone. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers gently brushed against yours.

“Ah,” you exclaimed once you caught sight of the time, “crap! I told him I told Eren I wouldn’t be late again.” You groaned, handing back the phone as you scrambled to your feet. “I’m sorry I have to go,” you sent Erwin an apologetic smile. “It was really nice catching up. We should do it again sometime! Ugh, hopefully, Armin is there to make sure he doesn’t kill me.”

Erwin opened his mouth to remind you about the phone but decided against it at the last minute. “Be safe,” he called out to you as you ran off. He wasn’t even sure you had heard him, probably too caught up in rushing to hear clearly. His eyes followed your frame until it disappeared in the crowded streets. A disappointed sigh fell from his lips. Letting you leave the second time wasn’t any easier than the first. He thought maybe this time would be different. This time he would have the courage to ask you to stay without any restrictions.

He chuckled at himself as he stood up and gathered his things. Here he was pitying himself over the fact that you had left again. Yet, fate had brought you together twice already. If he had the chance to see you again, he promised himself that he would let you walk away so easily. After all, they say third times the charm.

***

“What is it,” Levi asked, earning a quiet hum from Erwin. He took a sip of tea before continuing. “You keep scanning the room like you’re looking for someone,” he noted. “You’ve barely paid attention to any conversation. Plus,” Levi set his cup down before leaning his chin on his hand, “you made us drive thirty minutes to go to a coffee shop even though you have one walking distance from your house. So, what’s so special about this place?” He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the back of it. “Cause apparently, it’s not the coffee.”

Erwin looked down at his still full cup of coffee, which was now lukewarm at best. He chuckled embarrassedly, hoping the sudden warmth he was experiencing was just his imagination. His order was long forgotten, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of you. “Guess I’ve been caught,” he smiled embarrassedly.

“You’re kidding right,” Sasha yelled at you as you walked through the door. “You left Mr. Perfect without giving him your number. To go be with Eren?” She looked to Connie with a baffled expression for support. “Am I the only one who sees how stupid that was?”

“Relax already,” you sighed. You had already gotten this speech before over text. You got it repeatedly, actually, at least once every day for the past week. “I know. I wasn’t thinking-.”

“Oh, I know,” she cut you off. “That’s like you having a perfectly juicy steak handed to you, just for you to reject it for a cold chicken nugget.”

“Eren is cute in his own way,” you tried to defend him only to be completely ignored.

“Well, Armin is more like a steak too, just a little one,” Connie chimed in as he read the menu.

“True. Wait, no, that’s not the point.” She stopped mid-rant to tell the cashier her order. “The point is she had-.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You paused to put in your order before following Sasha to your usual table. “I left Erwin to go meet up with Eren, who was fucking late anyways.”

“Yeah, sure, no worries. No need to pitch in or offer; I got it,” Connie grumbled as he paid. He trailed behind you and Sasha, plopping down in his usual spot with a childish huff.

“Thank you, lovebug,” Sasha cooed, pecking his cheek. “You’re the best, unlike some people.” She glared playfully at you from the corner of her eye.

You sighed melodramatically, practically rolling your eyes into the back of your head. “How long are you going to hold this over me?”

“She’ll think about the answer to that while you go get our drinks,” Connie answered for her with a devilish smirk.

“Wow,” you drawled with a feigned hurt expression, “you too, Connie?” You shook your head disappointedly, “can’t trust no one.” You begrudgingly walked over to the counter where three drinks sat. You nearly dropped the cup in your hands as a familiar voice spoke up behind you.

“Mind if I give you a hand?”

“Erwin,” you gasp, jumping harder than you’d like. The scalding tea on your skin left little time for you to feel embarrassed. “Ah,” you hissed under your breath as you quickly placed the cup back on the counter. “Fuck.”

“Apologies,” Erwin quickly stepped in beside you, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Without thinking, he took your hand into his own, cradling it like you were made of glass. His warm hands were nothing in comparison to the rising heat in your cheeks as he gently wiped your hand with a napkin. “I just wanted to say ‘hi,’” he continued in a low bashful voice.

You couldn’t help the soft giggles that tumbled from your lips. There he was, being a big friendly giant again. You looked up at him for the first time, watching the way his brows furrowed with concern. “Well, I’m glad you did.” You gave his hand a grateful squeeze, “wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you again. I definitely need all the help I can get with my new project.”

“I- uh, well,” he stumbled over his words, quickly retracting his hand from yours. He carefully grabbed all three cups. “Where to?” He felt childish getting this flustered over just being around you. The small smile on your face was enough to send his heart into overtime.

You plucked your cup from his hand, gingerly taking a sip. With a nod, you led him to your table.

“Took you long en-ah!” Sasha’s eyes bulged out of her head as her eyes landed on the towering figure behind you. “What the hell,” she exclaimed, causing a few curious glances to be cast in her direction. “I- you,” she focused her gaze on you, “how’d you manage to find the greek god again?”

Your eyebrows shot up more in embarrassment than in surprise. Sasha was never once for subtleties, always the most outspoken one of the group. You set your cup down with a sigh. “I’m sorry about her,” you turned to him with an apologetic. “Erwin meet Sasha and Connie-,” you took their cups from his hands and set them on the table, “-Sasha and Connie meet Erwin.”

Connie nodded in acknowledgment, “feel free to sit with us.” You could tell he was trying to play it cool for your sake. Truth be told, Sasha had him just as invested in the man as she was. It probably wasn’t the healthiest, but it damn sure is fun. Who needed reality tv when they could just watch you?

Erwin could feel your hopefully expectant gaze focus on him, yet his eyes remained trained on Connie. Probably to keep him from turning any redder. He was already on the verge of becoming a tomato as it is. “I actually came here with a friend.”

“Invite him over,” Sasha blurted out. She ignored the way you momentarily glared daggers at her for pushing the subject. “The more, the merrier.”

They both looked like they had turned to putty as Erwin chuckled quietly. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought they were the ones with a crush on him. Not that you had a crush on him. You just liked admiring the man and being around him. “Guys-.”

“So this is why you’ve been dragging me here every day,” a cold, unfamiliar voice cut in. His voice alone was enough to send chills down your spine. So much so that you nearly missed that he said Erwin was coming here every day. Even Sasha and Connie straightened up under his presence. “Interesting. Mind if I take a seat?”

You turned to the man, catching his piercing eyes finish looking you up and down. He was shorter and leaner than Erwin, but something about his presence made him seem like the more intimidating of the two. “Y-yeah, sure.” You paused for a while, allowing his words to register in your mind.

“Everyone, meet Levi,” Erwin broke the silence as he took a seat next to you. “Levi, meet Sasha, Connie, and Y/n.”

“So you’ve been coming here every day,” you blurted out, getting the attention of everyone. You waited for an answer but only received a bashful smile. Your mind was moving a mile a minute. You were sure you were making a bigger deal of this than necessary.

“Starting to think he doesn’t come here for the drinks,” Levi said smugly, answering for Erwin. “Or maybe I’m just imagining things,” he mumbled into his cup.

You took a seat between Levi and Erwin, your eyes never leaving his frame.

“Y’know, I like this place a lot,” Sasha chimed in, barely able to hide her cheeky smile. “But I don’t think the scenery is great enough to make me come here every day.”

“I’ve definitely had better coffee,” Connie shrugged.

“Tea is nothing to brag about either,” Levi agreed despite taking another sip from his cup.

You could feel the embarrassment radiating off of Erwin. With every new playfully dig, it seemed harder to get him to meet your gaze. His ocean eyes landed everywhere but on you.

“That’s an interesting-looking napkin, huh,” you asked teasingly in a voice only he could hear. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Well, the prices are nice, though,” Sasha continued to tease slyly. You glanced over at Sasha with an exasperated glare, which she shrugged off. “So, Levi- was it- how do you know Erwin?”

“You’re loving this aren’t you,” Erwin groaned, finally bringing his eyes up to meet your own. He was enjoying every minute of looking at your playful smile, basking in the welcoming warmth. He shook his head with a chuckle, already knowing your answer from the mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Oh, every minute,” you giggled as you pointed a finger at his rosy cheeks. “Between you being a tomato and finding out Erwin the Greek god Smith came here looking for me-.”

“Cocky much?” Erwin flashed a dashing smile, “who said I was looking for you?”

You nodded, holding back a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. How silly of me.” You took your phone out with a shrug, “guess there’s no point in asking for your number then.” Erwin opened his mouth as if he was about to protest but quickly closed it.

“Hey,” Sasha interjected with a huff. “What’s the fun in making fun of you two if y’all just go into your own little la-la lands.”

“We weren’t,” you stammered before getting cut off by Connie.

“Were. We had a whole conversation, and you two didn’t even notice,” he stated matter of factly with a shrug before his mischievous grin returned to his lips. “At least exchange phone numbers this time.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, far too embarrassed to glare or come up with a retort. Your mouth opened and closed a few times like a gasping fish before you decided to keep your mouth closed with a huff. Just as you were about to change the subject, you noticed Erwin reach for your phone lying on the table.

“We were actually just getting to that,” Erwin replied with a cocky yet teasing grin. It was like someone flipped a switch on him. He was no longer this huge blushy and shy giant next to you. He exuded confidence but never crossed over into being cocky or egotistical. He took your phone in his hand and handed it to you so you could unlock it. “Y’know before we were interrupted from our ‘la la land’ and all.”

Sasha looked to you with a surprised expression as if asking for confirmation. You weren’t sure which was more shocking to her, that you were actually about to exchange numbers or that Erwin was finally retaliating. You mimicked Connie’s nonchalant shrug from a few moments ago as you unlocked your phone for Erwin.

Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats as Erwin typed in his contact information. Even Levi was visibly intrigued, though he tried to hide under his regular hardened and uninterested expression. Erwin didn’t notice anyone but you, however. All he could feel was your warmth beside him and your gaze locked on his hands. Having your undivided attention made him want to type even slower.

“Geez, what are you, a turtle? Actually, I think I’ve seen turtles move faster,” you teased with a nervous chuckle. The sudden quiet atmosphere at the table was too much. You felt the need to say something. Was that the best? Probably not.

Erwin laughed a throaty laugh, “someone seems eager.” His eyes flitted up to yours, “guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were the same way in class. That’s probably why you were one of my favorites. But I feel the need to remind you,” he handed you your phone, “sometimes taking things slow is what makes it fun.”

The way he held your gaze sent your mind into a drunken-like daze. He was intoxicating in every way, completely taking over your mind until all you could think of was you and him. “Dealing with all these writing deadlines might’ve made me forget that.” You leaned closer, resting your chin in your palm. “Maybe I need a demonstration to help jog my memory.”

Erwin looked at you with a lopsided smirk. His eyes trailed down your face, landing on your lips longer than he intended. Every ounce of him wanted to take you up on the suggestion, but he wasn’t sure if you were being serious or just teasing.

“There you two go again,” Levi interrupted. You quickly sat back in your chair, creating room between you and Erwin. You could faintly make out a small chuckle from Levi. “If you two wanted to be alone, all you had to do was ask.”

“N-no,” you quickly stammered. “It’s not like that.” You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s just-,” you glanced at Erwin with a small smile, “-it’s nice seeing one of my favorite teachers again.”

“I sure hope your classroom wasn’t filled with as much sexual tension,” Sasha murmured.

Erwin raised an eyebrow in confusion. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but closed into a tight line.

“On that note, I should get going.” You quickly rose from your seat, avoiding making eye contact with Erwin. “Got another meeting with Jeager-bomb.” Sasha practically rolled her eyes into the back of her head but kept her mouth shut. At least you got his number before running off again. “Bye, guys! Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Levi.” You finally let your fall on Erwin, who had a somewhat expectant look on his face. “I’ll call you the next time I need help,” you couldn’t fight the girlish smile tugging on your lips.

“I look forward to it.”

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