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theewokingdead · 2 years

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Soft Lies, Hard Truths

Pairing: Javier Peña x Agent!Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Javi has strong feelings after you get injured saving him in the line of duty.

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Uh…So, I’ve never written him before, but @iamskyereads needed to hear about angry sex with Javi. @leannawithacapitala told me I didn’t have to write a whole scene as to why he’s angry or anything, but I apparently don’t listen. Thank her for enabling me (as I do with her) and giving me the courage to have a go at writing Javier.

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“Keep up the good work.”

Messina turns away from your desk area, where a small group had gathered to hear the heroic tale of how you got shot while saving Javier Peña’s ass – at least that’s how your co-workers have been portraying it. You’ve been hailed as brave and selfless for leaping between your partner and a bullet that was intended for him, protected only by the fabric of your tac vest.

Thank fuck for that clunky thing.

You look at her with one eyebrow raised and arms crossed, leaning with your backside against your desk. “You mean this may happen again?” you question, causing her to look at you confusedly. It’s not clear whether she didn’t expect the question or just didn’t have an answer to it – and honestly, how could anyone know whether you’d ever be shot again?

“I’ll be sure to duck next time,” you add, causing the small crowd around you to laugh. Even your boss manages to crack a small smile before walking away.

“You’re a riot,” a secretary declares. “How can you manage to be so calm and make jokes about what happened?”

Shrugging, you reply, “It was just an average day at the office. I’ve been in tighter spots.”

“I can’t imagine anyone being in a tighter spot,” she marvels, clearly unaware of how much your fellow agents and officers risk each day.

Opening your mouth to reply, you catch sight of Javier in the background. When you see him, your breath catches in your throat and your heart skips a beat. Relief washes over you…but only for a moment. The air around him seems to radiate tension, like a dark cloud is brewing over his head – that’s typical for Javier though. His eyes flash as they catch the reflection of the dancing lights, and you wonder if there’s more to it. Was that a glimpse of suppressed rage you caught beneath his brooding exterior? His fingers flex in place, his chin jutted and jaw clenched, lips a tight line - little quirks that are enough to confirm your suspicion.

He’s pissed. But why?

Javier hovers over his desk before picking up a manilla folder, opening the file to read it. It’s clear he’s ignoring you. Or pretending to at least. In fact, he hasn’t spoken to you in days, not since the incident that left you a hero in the eyes of your peers.

In the aftermath of the shooting, Messina forced you to take time off, claiming that getting shot isn’t something you get over in a day, even if it all it seemed to leave was some heavy bruising. Javier hadn’t called or visited, and since no one, not even Steve, knew about your relationship behind closed doors, you couldn’t just call the office and ask if he was okay. That's why you dropped by today, under the pretext that a bruise wasn’t going to stop you from catching Pablo Escobar, hoping to finally force Javier to talk to you.

Remembering that you were in the middle of a conversation, you clear your throat. “You know, normally I’d make a dirty joke about what you said,” you state. “There’s some potential there, but I’m not sure I’m really in the mood.”

“Eso es lo que dice la esposa del gringo,” Trujillo mutters to his fellow police officers, and everyone laughs. That’s what the gringo’s wife says.

“English, asshole,” Steve replies, seeming to know that was a jab at him.

“You are one lucky puta,” one of the Colombian officers note. “Crazy, but lucky.”

“Steve here is the lucky one,” you immediately quip, nodding in the direction of the other DEA agent. “If it had been him instead of me and Javi… Well, there’s no chance in hell they’d miss his pasty ass.”

Steve nods and pretends to laugh as he runs a thumb along his mustache. “Yeah, well, you can bend over and kiss my pasty ass.”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “In your dreams, Murph. How about we leave the ass kissing to Trujillo?”

Everyone around you whoops and laughs. Everyone except Javier, who obviously was listening and seemed to reach a breaking point. After slamming the file on his desk, causing you and several others to snap your heads in his direction, he scoops up his leather jacket in one swift movement.

“Jav!” Steve calls, also unable to ignore Javier’s theatrics, watching as he heads toward the doors. “The fuck you going?”

“Home,” he growls back simply, not even looking back.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon!”

His shoulders are raised and head slumped. Though he storms out of the office with large, rapid movements, it’s clear to you that he’s retreating – from what, you don’t know.

“Fucking asshole,” Steve murmurs.

Hugging your arms tighter against your chest, your eyes drop to the ground, a hundred questions flowing through you mind. After a moment, you push yourself off the edge of your desk and walk after him, your pace intentionally casual so as not to draw further attention.

Stepping outside into the bright sunshine of Bogotá, you find the streets eerily quiet – quieter than you’ve ever heard them. Any other time, it would be comforting, feeling like the chaos within the city had been quelled. This time, it’s anything but calming, knowing that Javier was already gone. A mixture of anger and anxieties consumes you as you stand in the silence, unable to ignore the nagging feeling that something is wrong between the two of you. Did you do something - say something wrong?

God damn it, Javi.

Quickly, you run to your car and race to Javier’s building, hoping you can catch him before he could retreat to the confines of his apartment. As you pull up, you see him getting out of his car and march toward the building, the fingers of his right hand spreading like claws before clutching into a first.

Striding down the hallway, you watch him unlock his door.

“Jav!” you call, thinking he didn’t see you following.

Despite knowing you’re there, he closes the door behind him, making it clear it doesn’t want to talk to you. Fortunately, he didn’t lock it.

Barreling into his apartment and slamming the door shut behind you, you immediately fire at him, “What the fuck is your problem?”

He quickly whips around, his nostrils flared. “The fuck is yours?”

“Mine?” you question, laughing in disbelief. “Fuck you, Javi. You’ve been ignoring me for days. I didn’t do shit to you - except save your life. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“What were you thinking?” he interrogates, confirming the nagging suspicion that his behavior had everything to do with that night. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I did get hurt,” you correct. “I’ve got the bruise to prove it. Would you like to see it?” Your voice is sarcastic, gesturing toward your chest.

“You’re lucky you weren’t killed.” He spits the words like venom, as if he is hoping they’ll seep into your blood and run to your brain to make you understand.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” you ask, like you hadn’t told yourself a thousand times already.

“What are you going to do when the next bullet goes in your head?” he asks angrily, spit spraying from his mouth while he speaks, pointing theatrically to his head.

“Seriously, Javier? Don’t be so dramatic. What makes you so sure there will be a next time?” Years in the DEA, months in Colombia on the Escobar case, and it was the first-time lead made any sort of contact with you. The risk will always be there, especially with Escobar and his sicarios so desperate these days, but what were the chances that a bullet would find you again – and in the wrong place?

“What will you fucking do?” he repeats, demanding an answer.

Shrugging your shoulders, you reply, “Die, obviously.”

In a fit of rage, Javier slams his arm across a table, knocking some of his possessions to the ground. Then, he quickly spins around, stepping close to you. “You think this is a fucking joke?”

“No,” you respond. Even though you feel your heart pounding, you’re not intimidated. This wasn’t the first time you’ve dealt with an outburst; it was just the first time you were the cause of it. “I know the consequences of being at the wrong end of a barrel, Javier. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Javier seems to calm, taking a step back and putting his hands on his hips while looking away.

“You could’ve died,” he reiterates without looking at you. He couldn’t bring himself to.

“I’m fucking aware, Javi,” you grumble, already tired of this senseless argument. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry I jumped in front of you? I’m sorry I took the bullet instead of you? Is that what you want?” He remains silent. “I’m sorry I saved your fucking life. There. Happy?”

His nostrils flare, creating a steep, pronounced curve, as they always do when he’s angry. After a moment, he shakes his head. “No.”

“No?” you question, frustration clear in your voice.

“No,” he repeats, turning to you. Fire dances in his russet eyes, fueled by desire and laced with something that both scares and excites you to your very core.

“Because you don’t fucking mean it.”

“What do-”

Taking a step forward, he grabs your shirt and pulls you to him, crashing his lips into yours in a deep kiss. Hot breath escapes his nose, a combination of anger and passion flowing through his nostrils.

A mixture of confusion and relief wash over you as he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss that has you whimpering into his mouth. However, you let anger win out. Pushing him off your lips, you question, “Javier, what the fuck?”

His lips immediately find a place on your neck, and you are once more immobilized by the pleasure while he leaves a nice purpling bruise high enough for everyone to see should you return to work soon. His mustache tickles your skin as he brushes along your body. His hands peel back your jacket, exposing your skin to the cool air of his apartment. His lips are desperate, burning kisses into your skin while your jacket falls to the ground. You feel anger bubble up in your throat, but you’re distracted by his large hands moving to your hips, squeezing and pulling you closer. His knee parts your thighs for him, igniting a totally different fire in you - one that grows and spreads like wildfire.

“The things I want to do to you, hermosa…,” he growls, nimble fingers teasing the skin on your arms, causing goosebumps to form.

“Javi, please…,” you begin, feeling like you’ll explode or change your mind if something didn’t happen right here, right now.

“Use your words, sweetheart. What do you want?”

“I… Fuck!” You grab his wrist and pull his hand from your pants, not wanting to graze past whatever is bothering him, whatever caused him to lash out at you. He backs away in confusion, his chest heaving with the effort to hold back.

“I want you to tell me why you’re so upset,” you request, but he doesn’t respond, his head hanging in silence. “Are you pissed that I saved you before you even had the chance to save me? That youdon’t get to play the hero?”

Javier laughs at the ridiculous accusation. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then enlighten me,” you demand, crossing your arms. “Because I obviously have no clue what’s going on in that screwed up head of yours. One minute your pissed, the next you want to fuck me. What is it, Javier?”

He puts his hands on his hips once more, then looks down at the ground, fuming. “We both agreed to keep this a secret. That this was just fucking our frustrations out. But you – you throwing yourself in from of me…” He huffs. “Why? Why would you – why would anyone put their life on the line for me?”

You stare at him, unsure how to answer.

“I was doing my job.” What is that – lie number two? It is a blatant one, and as with the first lie, Javier sees right through it.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“So what if I am, asshole?” you ask aggressively. “Is it so hard to believe that someone cares about you? That I care about you? That I’ve developed fucking feelings for you? That I might actually lov-?”

“Don’t,” Javier immediately interrupts, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t fucking say it.”

You glare. “Don’t act like you don’t feel the same. I saw your face after I went down. You were afraid, Javi. And you’re still afraid - scared to let yourself have a little bit of happiness in this sad, pathetic life of yours.”

“Fuck you,” he spews.

“Most of all, I think you’re afraid because you love me too, and you’re scared to admit it - terrified by the thought of losing me.”

“Fuck this,” he growls before quickly spinning you around, pinning you against the front door, holding your arms against your back as if he’s arresting you. His hips slowly rut against your ass. “Do you feel what you fucking do to me?”

You smile victoriously, knowing you’re right. And though you’re pissed that he shoved you against the door unexpectedly, there’s no denying that it’s one of the hottest moves.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Fuck you,” he snarls.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t it too, querida,” he responds, his voice low and gruff. A hand returns to your body while his other holds your wrists. “You’d like if I fucked you like this, huh? From behind like some fucking animal. Tell me you wouldn’t like it.”

“I’d hate every second of it,” you snarl, not giving him the satisfaction of being right.

“Liar!” he growls, his voice making you shudder and clench your pussy at the same time. “Tell me to stop if you hate it so much.” He slips a hand down the waistband of your pants, his fingertips reaching and touching the wet spot on your panties. Instinctively, your hips roll against his touch, your body begging for something – anything – to relieve the pressure inside you.

“You can’t, can you? Because you don’t hate it, querida. You fucking love it,” he says. He withdraws his hand, but only to slip beneath your panties, dropping his hand to glide his fingers through your soaked folds. A calloused fingertip grazes your clit, garnering a gasp from you. He slides further down then sinks two thick fingers inside you.

Your mouth instinctively opens, but you quickly bit down on your bottom lip, trying to keep from crying out in pleasure those nimble fingers give you. He slides his fingers in and out of you, his thumb brushing against your clit.

“Javi,” you whine breathlessly.

A harsh derisive laugh escapes his lips, his thumb busy bullying your clit around with tiny circles while he wiggles his fingers inside you. “You’re so fucking wet. Your body can’t deny it, so why do you? Tell me… Tell me how much you love when I touch your pussy. Dime.”

“You think this is going to make me beg?” you question heatedly. “You’re just making me impatient, Peña. Fuck me or don’t. Just make up your mind.”

“I’ve already made up my mind,” he replies, withdrawing his hand from your pants completely, making you whine at the loss of friction. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“Then fucking do it,” you sneer, trying to get out of the grip he still has on your wrists.

“Quédate!” he yells – stay still - pining himself even more against you, a hand around your waist to pull you even closer. You feel his cock push into your backside and hate how wet it makes you. “Maybe we should see if you can run that pretty little mouth of yours when its full of my cock. You’d like that, huh?”

“You’re all fucking talk, Javi. Shut up and give it to me.”

Javier laughs, low and deep, and you can sense the devilish smirk on his face. “You really don’t think I’m going to reward you for your behavior so easily, do you? No. First, I am going to kiss every inch of your skin.” He plants a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, nipping at the sensitive skin there before moving elsewhere, grazing your skin with his nose as he moves. He slides his hand up your body, under your shirt, sending shivers up your spine as he fingers glide along it. Finding your bra, he quickly unhooks it with one hand, then reaches around, finding a nipple beneath the loosened garment. He pinches it to a peak, then rolls it between yours fingers while tugging lightly, eliciting a small moan from you.

“I’m going to suck on these gorgeous breasts of yours. Take you to the edge of orgasm without even touching your pussy.”

His hand runs back down your body. “Then I’m going to part your thighs and lick your folds until you’re whimpering, begging me to let you come. When you can’t take it anymore, I’ll fill that sweet little pussy of yours, and you’re going to come on my cock. Do you understand?”

“J-Javi.” Your breath hitches. You force yourself to inhale steadily as his hand slides closer to your hot center, his thumb rubbing lightly against you as your thighs part on your own volition.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes. Please, Javi.” You’re beyond caring about whatever pride you have left. All you want is to feel him inside you.

“Good girl. I’m going to make you beg, cariño. You may not be sorry now…but you will be.”

After what feels like hours of relentless teasing, your orgasm is swiftly reaching its peak. With deep, demanding thrusts, Javier slams into you from behind, brushing your sensitive spot with each punishing slide of his cock. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, nails leaving little crescent shape indentions and he pounds hard and fast. With each snap of his hips, his balls smack your clit, providing just enough stimulation. Stars shoot across your vision, and you screw your eyes tightly shut, nearly sobbing at the sensation.

Your body trembles, but you manage to remain on your elbows and knees, keeping your ass upright for Javier. A hand on your back pushes you down to remain in the perfect position for him, hellbent on fucking you so hard you forget your own name – and he’s succeeding. You’re a mess of mumbled words, gasps, and moans - a mix of Javi and please that have left your throat raw. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for; you just know you need it from him - now.

“Come for me,” he finally growls. “Soak my fucking cock, baby.”

Suddenly, the only words you seem to know are yes, yes, yes and Javi, thank you, grateful for the pleasure he’s finally giving you so freely. Your walls tighten around him, and a fire flows through you so hot that you wonder if you're being burned alive by your release.

His own orgasm sneaks up and devours him, his movements turning sloppy. With gritted teeth, your name escapes his mouth, hips jerking and stuttering as he paints your quivering walls with his seed. He stills inside you, his breath coming in soft pants.

Suddenly, a large hand wraps around your waist and pulls you up and back, squeezing you into his body. His chest is wet and sticky with sweat, the hair on his forehead damp. His fingers splayed over your skin, you reach up and grab his hand, forcing him to interlock his fingers with yours, sensing the tender and sweet Javier you know and love. He pants in your ear, his mouth trailing along your jaw, leaving little nibbling kisses.

“Mine,” he murmurs between breaths and kisses. “Mine.”

“I’m yours, Javi,” you affirm, squeezing his hand.

“If you ever pull a fucking stunt like that again…” He can’t continue, the thought alone too much to bear. “I’m sorry…for losing my mind.”

You twist your torso enough to see him, his brown eyes wet and soft, filled with so many emotions, all of which he wishes he could bury. You reach up and caress his face, your fingertips feeling the stubble on his cheek from where he didn’t shave that morning. “What are you afraid of, Javier?”

A frown twists at his lips and he drops his gaze, diverting yours. “I’m not afraid of many things, cariño…but mostly, I’m afraid of losing you.”

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #narcos fanfic #angry javi #javi peña #javi pena #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 5 months

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Tolkien Family Week, Day 3: Extended Family (aka Éomer's substitute dads)

It’s Day 3 of @tolkienfamilyweek and we’re still in Rohan! As usual, I’m thinking about my guy, Éomer. In my head canon, his father-in-law is Elfhelm, the marshal of the Mark most famous for looking the other way when Éowyn and Merry join his éored and ride to war in Gondor. I have a lot of affection for Elfhelm even though his role in the canon is pretty small, and he appears in my work semi-regularly.

In this case, I found myself thinking a lot about what it means to Éomer to have other father figures in his life, given that his own father died when he was so young, and Elfhelm would obviously be a major one (reminder, in my HC Éomer grew up best friends with Elfhelm’s daughter, who he later married. So Elfhelm had been in Éomer’s life for a long time both as unofficial and official extended family). The context/setting is a time shortly after the war of the ring, as the armies of Rohan are preparing to ride out once again in support of Gondor, this time to help Elessar rid Middle Earth of the evils remaining after the fall of Sauron.

**********

Éomer heard Elfhelm before he saw him. The stomping feet, the angry shouting as those feet approached his office. By the time the door flew open to reveal his father-in-law in all of his displeasure, Éomer was already up and out from behind his desk, ready to address the outburst that was clearly coming.

“Éomer! Have you heard this nonsense from Hildred?” Hildred was Éomer’s closest military advisor, and he had recently issued new duty assignments for each of the marshals. “Commander of the home forces? I am supposed to stay here and babysit Edoras while someone else takes my men out on your campaign with King Elessar?”

Éomer would not have allowed any other man in Rohan to storm in like this, unannounced and raging, but Elfhelm was no average Rohirrim. He had a claim on Éomer’s affections that no other living man could best, and Éomer was prepared to accept much from Elfhelm that he would not tolerate in others. He tried now to steer the older man to a chair.

“I have spoken with Hildred,” Éomer said. “And I understand why you are angry. Please, sit. Let us talk this through.”

Elfhelm threw himself into the nearest chair, but no sooner had his back hit the cushion than he sprang back up to pace angrily across the room. “I’ve been a marshal of the Mark since most of you were still schoolboys. Since that time, I’ve killed more orcs than just about anyone else in Rohan, not to mention Dunlendings or Haradrim or whoever else needed to be dealt with. And I’m every bit as strong now at sixty as I was at twenty.” He stopped in front of Éomer and poked a finger in his chest. “You could ask those fools at Helm’s Deep or outside Minas Tirith whether I’ve gone soft with age. But they couldn’t tell you, because they’re already buried in a mound somewhere with bodies full of holes from my sword!” He stomped a foot for emphasis before resuming his angry steps.

Éomer sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. To see Elfhelm in such a mood was a vanishingly rare occurrence. Ordinarily, he was almost unnaturally cheerful. He could maintain a happy countenance and a lighthearted spirit through the most appalling conditions, and he lost his desire to trade stories, gossip or groan-inducing jokes only while in the heat of preparations for battle. His gregarious, easygoing nature made him enormously popular with soldiers and civilians alike, but there was little sign of that nature now.

“Everyone in Rohan has nothing but the deepest respect for you as a soldier.” Éomer tried to find a calming tone that would not be heard as patronizing. “We would all trust you with our lives on a battlefield, without hesitation. Believe me, no one doubts your capabilities.”

Elfhelm wheeled around on his heel. “Hildred must have such doubts, or that order would never have been given. Unless it is not that he thinks me incapable of leading my men but simply that he does not want me to anymore. And, frankly, that is not any better. After all, who is Hildred to make such a decision?”

Éomer grimaced and shook his head. “This has nothing to do with Hildred.” He put a hand on Elfhelm’s arm. “Please sit down, and let us talk calmly. Are you not always the one telling me to keep my head and control my temper?”

Elfhelm huffed in grudging acknowledgement of his own advice. He sat, as requested, but remained perched on the edge of the seat as though to be comfortable would be too much of a concession. He folded his arms and glared out ahead of himself. “Alright. I am sitting.”

Éomer cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “As I said, this has nothing to do with

Hildred.” He toed at a crack in the stone floor. “Hildred issued the duty assignments, but he is not the one who devised them. I did.” He looked up. ”I’m the one who wants you to stay in Edoras.”

Elfhelm’s mouth dropped open slightly. “You? You are the one who wants to put me out to pasture like an old stallion who is past his prime? To be stared at and pitied by all the younger studs?”

“Hold on, that is not—“

“‘Oh look, there’s old Elfhelm,’ they’ll all say. ‘Remember when he was once a formidable soldier? How times have changed’.”

“If you will just please allow me—“

Éomer’s attempts to break in went entirely unheeded as Elfhelm instead picked up speed and volume while he continued.

“I have been nothing but good to you since the day you first showed up at my house, a skinny, sad, scared little boy who found comfort and happiness in the friendship of my daughter. A lot of fathers around these parts would have shown you the door right away, you know. They would have thought such a close relationship between a boy and a girl could lead to nothing but trouble. But I welcomed you in. You’ve eaten more meals at my family table than I can count. We’ve celebrated with you, and we’ve grieved with you. We’ve watched you grow and taken pride in what you’ve done and what you’ve become. I didn’t need you to marry Mereliss in order to feel like you were my own son. I had already long since started to think of you that way. But despite all of that, now you would humiliate me like this?”

Exasperated, Éomer jumped to his feet, desperate to get in a word of response. “Enough!” he thundered. When Elfhelm went quiet, Éomer dropped the volume of his own voice and sat down again. He had an almost pleading look in his eye. “Don’t you see? All of that—everything you just said—is precisely why I don’t want you to go off to battle again. You are like a father to me, and I have lost enough fathers already!”

A stunned silence enveloped the room as Elfhelm stared at him, trying to process another unexpected revelation. “You…you are worried for my safety?”

Éomer dashed a hand across his eyes as though to fend off tears. “Of course I am. I was only eleven when my father was killed. He was my hero, and I didn’t think I would ever manage his loss. But then Théoden took us in, and he gave us not just shelter and food but stability and affection and pride. And Théodred took me under his wing, teaching me how to be the kind of man that he was… how to ride and fight, how to make and keep a commitment, how to treat others with respect and kindness. And you gave me a home away from home, a place that I could always go for support and advice and comfort. I always felt welcome in your house, even when Mereliss was not there. And so, against all of my expectations, I found other fathers, not to replace the one I lost but to fill in for him and give me what he no longer could. And now…” He broke off as his voice cracked, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Now you’re the only one left. And so, yes, I wanted you to take on a safer role, and perhaps that was selfish of me. But I only hoped to make sure that I could keep you for as long as possible. I am sorry.” He dropped his head.

Every hint of anger left Elfhelm’s body in an instant. He looked on Éomer’s slumped form and saw once again the young, vulnerable child who had first come into his life so many years ago. And he knew that protecting that child, who still existed inside the strong, tall body of the man in this chair, was far more important to him than the glory or excitement of yet another battle. He wanted nothing more than to make that child feel loved and secure.

“Oh, Éomer, my boy. I’m the one who is sorry. I leapt to all the wrong conclusions.” He rose and pulled Éomer to his feet, wrapping him in a tight embrace. When he released him at last, he left a hand on Éomer’s shoulder. “Can you forgive me for my harsh words?”

“If you will forgive me for putting you in this position,” said Éomer. “It is not fair to make you choose between your family and your pride.”

“Oh, to hell with pride. I’ve won enough battles in this lifetime to be a proud soldier already. Now I can be proud just to be the sort of man that the king of Rohan wants to keep around.” He dropped back into his chair, the jovial glint returned to his eye once again, and propped his feet up on a nearby side table, ready to settle in for a long stay.

#tolkien family week #extended family #eomer #elfhelm #father figures #in-laws that you genuinely love #rohan #forth eorlingas #lord of the rings #lotr fanfiction

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ejzah · 11 months

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A/N: Based on a real life story about myself I shared with @mashmaiden and she then suggested would make a fun fic.

***

It’s All Fun and Games

June 2015

***

“Wow, you take me such romantic places,” Kensi drawled as Deeks pulled into the parking lot of the “Family Fun Center”, which boasted an arcade, bumper cars, cafe, batting cages, and a full mini golf course. On a Saturday afternoon, the lot was nearly full, parents with varying numbers of excited children darting from between cars.

“Hey, I spent hours here as a kid,” Deeks defended himself cheerfully. “Of course, back then the games were a little less high tech, but we could spend a whole day here when it wasn’t good day for surfing.

“I’m kidding,” Kensi assured him, lightly touching his shoulder to let him know she wasn’t truly dissing one of his adolescent staples. “How did you afford coming so often?”

At another time, Kensi would have edged around his lack of money. Oddly enough, he found it encouraging that they’d come this far.

Lowering his voice and looking around him to make sure no one was in hearing distance, he nodded to the back of the lot. “We used to hop that fence, join a big group of people, who were almost finished and somebody would take pity on us, and pass on a couple clubs and balls.”

“Martin A. Deeks!” Kensi exclaimed. “I’m shocked.”

“Hey, you know Ray and I got into trouble sometimes. Besides, we could have been doing so much worse than not paying for a couple rounds of golf,” he defended himself. “If we had a little extra money, we’d play a few arcade games.”

“And no one ever caught on or sold you out?”

“You’d be surprised at the average teenager’s desire to “stick it to the man”. Plus, we usually chose times when it was busy enough that the staff wouldn’t be likely to recall if they sold passes to another couple of kids. We didn’t go every week either.”

“Amazing the things you find out about a guy once you start dating,” Kensi said, shaking her head with mock remonstration in her voice

“I’ll have you know I made an anonymous donation once I graduated from law school,” he told her.

“Well, I suppose that’s something.”

Then finally made it into the main building, which was overrun with kids and teenagers. It brought back a wave of nostalgia.

Deeks nudged her shoulder, neatly moving them to the side to avoid being run over by a group of kids heading for the arcade.

“What about you? Any good memories from mini golfing?” Deeks asked.

“Actually, I’ve never been before,” Kensi responded.

“Seriously?” Kensi shrugged, and he chuckled, taking her hand to pull her towards the service counter. “Oh, then this is going to be amazing.” He stepped up to the counter. “Two passes for the golf course, please.”

Kensi Blye was amazing at a lot of things, particularly of the physical variety. She can run, fight, and shoot better than just about anyone. Even though she’d never really surfed before a couple years ago, she’d picked that up with surprising speed under Deeks’ tutelage. He was still better than her, but she could pull it off if needed.

Mini golf though, not so much. It was a revelation to watch Kensi struggle to hit the little ball across the small areas of green, needing several tries to make through the hole in a structure built to resemble a miniature wharf.

“Alright, bend your knees a little more, keep your head back, and aim slightly more towards the left,” Deeks instructed as Kensi walked to her golf ball, having bounced off the rock placed between the tee and whole 11.

Kensi sent him a swift glare, clearly in no mood for tips. “Deeks,” she said warningly.

“Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.”

She swung again, the ball somehow coming a few inches within the hole, but swerved to the right at the last moment. Kensi let out a frustrated growl, muttering under her breath. It wasn’t quite intelligible, but Deeks was pretty certain her words shouldn’t be spoken around small children.

A small crowd had begun to form behind them, waiting for their turn as Kensi continued her attempt. After a few minutes, they apparently gave up on waiting and moved on to the next spot.

Kensi lined up her next shot, bending her knees, and swung gently. It dropped in and Kensi shouted in victory, only for the ball to pop back out the other side of hole. She stared at it for a moment, her expression blank.

Then she raised the golf club above her head, let out a primal yell, and beat the green with the club repeatedly. Just leaned back slightly in surprise, but didn’t attempt to stop her. Maybe 20 seconds later, she dropped the club to her side, breathing heavily.

Deeks pressed his lips together, holding back a smirk with all his light. “Feel better?” he asked mildly.

“Yes,” Kensi said succinctly, tucking a few stray pieces of hair behind her ear. “I do.”

“Maybe we should switch to bumper cars,” he suggested.

“Yeah, that might be best.”

“Ok, I’ll just take that for you.” He gingerly removed the club from her hand like he was disarming a bomb.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, looking sheepish.

“Don’t worry about it. It was actually kind of entertaining to see Kensi Blye not be absolutely amazing at something,” he said.

“Oh hush.” She knocked his shoulder with her, the gesture affectionate. “I guess I do have to give concede that you are better at mini golf than I am.”

“I’m honored,” Deeks teased. “Now, how do you feel about bowling?”

***

A/N: I don’t know if there if a place called the Family Fun Center exists in LA, but there used to be one near my childhood home.

If you’re wondering, yes, I did once beat a suspecting mini golf course with my club. Bowling has been a source of frustration as well, but as of the other day, I have learned to curb my rage.

Hope you enjoyed this silly little fic!

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #fluff #Kensi’s inner rage comes out #mini golf is the devil #ejzah fanfiction

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officialsporkintheroad · 2 years

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(a little excerpt to get you started)

It wasn’t jealousy.

Tom had no personal interest in Granger outside of her academic capabilities and the unspoken rivalry they’d been entangled in since Tom’s second year, when out of nowhere some scrawny, bookish, bushy-haired nuisance was suddenly being spoken of in awed, proud tones by his professors. Being a year apart hadn’t kept comparisons from being made, and so despite Tom’s resolve to keep to himself, it was almost inevitable that he should eventually have to deal with her, in the library, upon Dumbledore’s not-suggestion that Tom reach out and offer support to “another talented mind like yourself.”

(She was sitting alone at a table, barely visible behind a stack of books. She was more hair than girl, with a set of unfortunately large front teeth, and she glared at him when he approached.

“Who are you?” she asked rather rudely, imperiously, and Tom stiffened despite himself, too used to similar—albeit more hostile—comments from his housemates.

“Tom Riddle. I—”

If anything, her expression tightened. “Yes. I’ve heard about you. I don’t need your help.”)

Hermione Granger at 12 had been lacking. Dull. Piteously hindered by her blind faith in authority. Clever only in the sense that she could regurgitate anything she’d read, but not smart enough to figure anything else out for herself. Not a genius in the way Tom was. It was frankly insulting to be compared to her in any manner, and on top of that, her personality was abrasive and unpleasant. Whatever infinitesimal flicker of curiosity the rumors of her had engendered was smothered upon their first meeting.

The only blessing was that she seemed to find him just as intolerable and had no interest in whatever “guidance” Dumbledore had instructed Tom to offer her.

In the course of six years, little had changed in terms of their respective attitudes towards each other, even if Tom had come to grudgingly admit that his initial assessment was not a true representation of her abilities.

So it wasn’t jealousy, no matter what Abraxas liked to claim

“You’re staring again,” Abraxas pointed out unhelpfully, the little twist at the corner of his mouth belying his amusement. Despite being a Slytherin and the Malfoy heir, he’d never really bothered to mask his emotions around Tom. “You’re lucky their backs are to you, or else you’d have to explain to Weasley why you’re eye-fucking his girlfriend.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the crass wording. “Not at breakfast, Abraxas.”

The blond grinned. “I should be saying that to you. It’s practically exhibitionist. I feel like I’m intruding on an intimate moment.”

“You are,” Avery growled, half hunched over his coffee cup, inhaling the steam with his eyes closed. Malfoy grimaced, opened his mouth, but Dolohov beat him to it.

“Keep your weird coffee fetish behind closed doors, please.”

Rosier’s laugh grated. “Why do you think he goes to bed so early every night?”

Stifling a sigh, Tom tuned out the rest of the useless conversation. Abraxas was probably right—not about the…the eye-fucking, for fucks sake, but about the staring—and Tom knew that Granger’s relatively new attachment with Weasley was neither concerning to his own goals or interesting enough to have captivated Tom’s attention. But.

But Weasley?

It was utterly baffling.

Aside from Weasley’s alleged genius with wizarding chess, the boy was an insipid dolt with very little natural ability and no work ethic to compensate for it. He was consistently average in class—a generous ranking, in Tom’s opinion, and one he felt sure the red-head only earned by the grace of Granger’s incessant nagging and obsession with study schedules. His quidditch playing, according to Abraxas, was nothing to write home about. He was often in detention, was completely obtuse when it came to reading people if the frequency with which Granger whacked him over the head (before they were dating, that is) was any indicator, and his eating manners were worse than atrocious. He was neither powerful, nor rich, nor influential, nor extraordinarily handsome, and Tom did not understand.

It’s not that Granger was some ephemeral creature that could have her choice of anyone—the very idea would be enough to make Tom snort out his tea, if he were the sort of person who did such things—but surely, surely, she could do better than Ronald Weasley.

#tomione #tom riddle/hermione granger #fanfic #harry potter

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c4rdsharp · 1 year

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JULES UPHAM. ( @closedcoffins )

“Um–?! Hello, Mr. Gandor.” The greeting comes out half-surprised, like he wasn’t expecting to see the man in his own jazz hall. It really goes to show how disconnected from this side of danger Jules really is; the sorts of people with too much money and power for their own good on the legitimate business side of things would never be seen in their own lowly establishments. His own parents had been that sort of people.

The world of the mob really is different… Or maybe it’s just this one that’s strange. Kate had said the Gandor family was a little different from the average crime family, but it’s not like Jules has any point for comparison besides the Lemures, which had been their own beast entirely.

Either way, if it’s like this, he’s even more nervous. He’d been prepared for there to at least be a middle-man to talk to.

“I— Mrs. Kate sent me here. Kate Gandor. To ask about working at your jazz hall…” He anxiously glances around the room, even more unnerved to find that it’s mostly empty save for a few people whose general body language suggests they’re either regulars or affiliated with the family completely—but that’s just based on his own experience working in restaurants. It’s true that he trusts Kate, but he feels like she must be a little biased. This man in front of him… It’s Luck Gandor, he’s absolutely certain, based on Kate’s description and the few pictures of her or her husband that had included the rest of the family.

I knew Keith was terrifying because I’ve met him before, but this guy… Are they all like that? I guess it makes sense… They wouldn’t be effective in the underground if they weren’t at least a little intimidating, but… Even Chané had never felt quite like that. I feel like he’s already scrutinizing me more than most people tend to. But then again, most people don’t even look twice at me.

“She’s been teaching me piano for a couple of years now and I mentioned needing more money, so she directed me this way. I’m not, ah, sure what she really expected out of it.” It’s not like Jules hasn’t had work experience before, but that was as a busboy, not a pianist. Even though he knows he’s pretty good at it, it’s hard not to be nervous, especially since he doesn’t even know what he’s doing in terms of getting hired in the first place. “Oh, I’m J— Upham. Most people just call me Upham.”

It’s not like me to slip up that easily. I guess it’s just that look he’s giving me. It’s terrifying, and that makes it difficult to withhold important things. But I really can’t give my name out so casually. I don’t think Luck himself would do anything with the information, because Kate and Keith both know, but I don’t know enough about the rest of the people here to know they don’t have any connection to the Lemures or to Huey Laforet in general. Upham alone is a common enough last name, but if someone heard both…

Perhaps, in other crime families, there would be a middleman. However, other crime families don't have a Luck Gandor. Keith & Berga may have been satisfied enough to let someone else deal with the small, menial tasks, but Luck never was. It wasn't so much a lack of trust as it was a necessity. If someone were to be working with the Family, regardless of what position they would be placed in, it was imperative for Luck to know the ins - and - outs of who was in their establishments and what their role was for being there. Not only that, but it tended to keep all those in line. It saved the Gandors a fair bit of trouble when others realized they were being watched. It wasn't as if Luck was expecting anything of the sort from Upham. Kate has spoken to him beforehand during dinner of an up - and - coming piano player who had expressed an interest in working for the Gandors. Or, well, no. Not for the Gandors, but for the Coraggioso. Not that the difference was particularly stark -- it was simply not all employees were affiliated with the crime side of the family. Which was all well and good. Not everyone had the stomach for it. Of course, no one had the stomach to work on empty either. So, it wasn't as if they could really be picky on who their employers were anyway. Most people were willing to turn a blind eye to sordid affairs when it brought them food on their tables. And, Mr. Upham seemed like that sort of person. Nervous, fidgety. His eyes were going about every which way, seeming to avoid contact with Luck's own. All the telltale signs of someone unused to criminal affairs. No . . . perhaps, someone who just knows what they simply entail. There were nervous criminals just as much as there were nervous civilians. However, in Luck's experience, nervous criminals tend to not get very far in their careers -- either poor by their own incompetence or dead by their own mistakes. Considering Mr. Upham was here for employment and was clearly still very much alive . . . he was probably not that much of a worry. Luck didn't let up his scrutiny, though. Although he didn't expect normal employees to have the steel will of his men, being a part of Coraggioso staff was not for the faint of heart. If the young man was to play here, he'd better get used to the way things are. He shouldn't expect safety just because he wouldn't have involvement in their shadowy affairs. It was usually those who least deserved it that find themselves at the end of a gang conflict. However, Luck was kind enough ( if you could call it a kindness ) to grant Upham a polite smile. He held out a hand, calm and certain. " a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Upham. call me Mr. Luck, if you could. i understand you're only following proper etiquette, but seeing as how there's three of us, it tends to get awfully confusing. If you're to refer to one of us as Mr. Gandor, best it be my eldest brother. " He firmly shook Mr. Upham's hand, and took his own away, placing it once more behind his back. " and, don't be nervous. i assure you, Mrs. Kate has given me an already glowing recommendation for you. there shouldn't be too much trouble with your employment. however, for the sake of formality, i think it imperative to ask you a few questions, no? and, perhaps, a private showing of your piano work? I do not doubt your skill, of course, but we are a jazz hall. i'd be remiss to not at least ensure the musicians we hire are up to the task. " Luck spoke kindly enough. There wasn't any sort of warmth in his voice that would put Upham at ease, but the sharp edge Luck reserved for his underground affairs was notably missing. He wanted neither comfort nor fear from his prospective employee -- just steel and resolve. Luck's eyes remained unwavering.

#( in character. ) nemo me impune lacessit #( thread. ) jules upham / closedcoffins ; 001 #( main. ) if there was any different at all it was just one thing: they were villains.#// upham time! upham time!

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scuttling · 3 years

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If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #prompt #request

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narrators-journal · 2 years

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Crushes are disgusting

Holy shit! At long last, I write something again lol. I am happy to report that I am out of my fandom burnout too! Now I’m just rusty and short on coherent ideas lol. But hey! That’s what asks are for lololol. For now, enjoy my silly little Akutagawa thought.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was never one to grow attached to anyone on any sort of level. Outside of his sister, the goth had no real friends, in his opinion, and even found most of his co-workers varying degrees of annoying. So, when he met you at the grocery store one day, he wasn't the most polite of customers. Despite that though, you were rather friendly, but didn't push him into a conversation like a lot of other cashiers tended to do. It was nice. In fact, it was such a refreshing breath of minding-your-own-business, that Akutagawa admittedly chose your particular register over the others whenever he could on his visits to the store. And in each visit, you wouldn't say more than a happy little hello, and maybe asking how his day was going. No over-sharing, no forcing conversation, just a general polite greeting while you rung up his items before giving him his total and a wave of farewell when he left. Aku would rarely give a proper response to you, mostly just wanting to get his food and go home. However, he appreciated how you seemed to be able to gauge how talkative he was, and how you adjusted appropriately. On top of that, the simple, pleasant interaction he had with you was something of a bright spot on his darker days. You once even complimented the decorative cloth thing he wore at the collar of his shirt, which, weirdly enough, sent a little shot of warmth through him. So, after months of his visits and preference for your particular register, and your repeated kindness, Akutagawa decided to try maybe being more polite. "So," he said while you slid a loaf of bread over the price scanner and bagging it for him, "uh, how has your day been?" you snorted a bit, but grinned, "Eh, pretty average. I haven't had any customer's scream at me at least, so that's a highlight." the goth nodded at that, having heard from some of the mafia goons how hard retail work could be, "Do customers often yell at you?" He asked, fishing his wallet out of his coat pocket when you scanned the last of his shopping, Why the hell am I fumbling so badly with this? He asked himself with a mental huff of annoyance, I can hold a damned conversation, quit being so painfully pathetic. "I mean, not every day, but it's not exactly rare, y'know?" You said with a small laugh before reading off the money he owed and letting him leave without another word from him. The entire walk home after that, Akutagawa regretted having spoken. Apparently, his mood was evident enough for Gin to notice almost as soon as he'd walked into the apartment they shared. "Hey there Ryuu, are you okay?" She asked, coming into the kitchen to watch him put away the things he'd gotten, "I'm fine." "Really? You seem more frustrated than usual." She pointed out, getting a cold glare from the dark-haired man, "I made a fool of myself at the store." He admitted after a moment, ducking down to put some food in the fridge and avoid his sister's reaction, "How'd you do that?" She asked simply, pulling herself up onto the counter as she spoke, "I...tried to talk a bit with the cashier, and for some reason, I sounded super unnatural." He huffed and stood up, hitting the fridge door in frustration, "I know I don't speak to a lot of people, but I'm not some pathetic pre-teen. I shouldn't sound like one when I hold a polite conversation." Gin let him vent, waiting until Akutagawa slammed the fridge shut and put the bread and other non-refrigerated goods away before speaking again, "Well, do you like the person you tried to talk to?" That got her another glare, "It was just some cashier. They've been polite to me the past few times I've went, so I was just trying to be polite back." "Okay, but...do you like this cashier at all?" She asked again, and when he gave her a more confused look, rolled her dark eyes, "I mean, do you get upset when they're not around? Did talking to them make you feel weird and nervous for no reason?" Aku blinked at that, thinking back to the interaction again. Now that he wasn't living the moment, he could remember that his nerves did seem a bit more frazzled than usual. God that's so stupid. They're probably just a normal person, not a threat. He chided himself while Gin took his silence as an answer, "I'm going to assume that's a yes. So, maybe you came off so weirdly because you were flustered." She suggested, snapping Aku out of his thoughts to glare at her once more, "Why would I be flustered to talk to some cashier?!" Gin simply shrugged at that, hopping down and strolling out of the kitchen with a simple, "Maybe you've got a crush, Ryuu, I dunno." The goth's only response was to stab at her with a strand of his coat, missing by an intentional distance while his face began to burn, that heat increasing when she only giggled at his reaction. "I do not have a crush!" He yelled after her, but his sister didn't bother responding. At least, I don't think I do...

#Akutagawa Ryuunosuke #Akutagawa x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #x reader #scenario #i tried my best

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alluringjae · 3 years

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until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome (dm me if you want to be added)

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down. Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

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moonrazeeclipse · 3 years

Text

Day at the Amusement Park.

The last time I went to an amusement park was when I was 12 years-old. My memories have been mostly shaky, but what I can remember was the happiness and joy I felt with my mother and father.

It’s been tough for me to have fun these days. Being a 23 year-old working a typical nine-to-five shift made it difficult to have time for myself. Stressed about the quotas, the numbers, job stability, and everything else in between. Good sleep has eluded me for months.

Then I look at my girlfriend, Nicha, and my hope has never been brighter.

Ah, Nicha. Everyone else knew and recognized her as Minnie, but the closest to her called her by her real name. If I thought an average office job was a grindfest, then hers was a gauntlet. Idol life meant she had to be up as early as 3 A.M. and she’d run through several sets of makeup, practice, interviews, and appearances. During one of her off days she and her members visited my building while I just so happen to be on coffee break. One funny stare and the next thing I knew, we were hiding our relationship from the whole world.

No matter how exhausted she got, she kept that same positive, happy energy as if she had unlimited battery life. Each occasional glance as I drove to the old amusement park, she was beaming, singing along to the songs on the radio, like she were a child. This was one of her rare off days where they didn’t have any schedules, so maybe that’s the reason why she’s extra joyful too.

The park itself hadn’t changed much since I last visited all those years back. The entrance looked rusted and devoid of any life or color. There seemed to be way fewer people visiting as well. Nicha offered to take me to that newer park with those virtual reality simulators, but I turned it down with a chuckle, saying that I wasn’t making enough money to spend a day there. Regardless, we entered the place, her hand holding mine, dragging me with the brightest smile on her face.

Whatever she wanted to do, I followed along. Nicha ran ahead of me, acting like a child and not a famous, recognizable idol. Being around me must be freeing for her; she could be herself when I’m with her. None of the rides were renovated or refashioned, which gave me that nostalgic feel. Because there weren’t that many visitors, waiting only took less than ten minutes for each ride. Despite my motion sickness, I powered through the first roller coaster without a problem. The second one? I recalled hurling up minutes after getting off that one as a child. Nicha screamed her heart out on the first coaster, but was overcome by fear on the second. She leaned into my chest while I was fighting every urge not to puke mid-ride. I sought a barf bag once we got off, making her laugh.

“Ahaha! You look hilarious!” Nicha mocked.

“Why are you gloating? Don’t act like you were hiding your face on my chest.” I retorted. She blushed in embarrassment before pretending to run away. No matter how much she loved to make fun of me, I couldn’t get upset. Her wholesome smiles made her a great person to hang out with.

Walking along the park, we came across a row of booths. These booths offered challenges in exchange for prizes. Dad won me a basketball as a reward back then. Even with age, one of the game masters somehow recognized me by my eyes.

“Hey, hey! It’s been a long time! You’re all grown now!” He said, calling my attention.

“Oh, hey. How did you recognize my face?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have your father’s eyes, that’s why! How’s he doing?” He changed the subject.

“Umm, great I guess.” I honestly didn’t know how to answer, since I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Nicha suddenly came in from behind and hugged me. The game master’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Is this your girlfriend? Why don’t you step up and show her your father’s talent?” He challenged me on the spot. I sighed as Nicha moved right next to me. Her beaming eyes and bright smile gave me more pressure to do well.

I was poor at sports, so I wondered how bad I’d mess up at ring toss. I didn’t have deft hands like my dad, and I wasn’t practicing at all. I’m better with keyboards, I murmured under my breath as he gave me the rings. First toss. The ring hit the bottle. My eyes widened. Second toss. The bottle was a little more distant than the first. I threw the ring and to my surprise, it hit too. Shock drowned out my girlfriend’s cheers and the yell of the game master. One more ring, one more toss. The bottle was placed at a greater distance compared to the earlier ones. I was doing better than I thought, so maybe my luck would run out on this turn. I flung the last ring, and time seemingly slowed down as I released it from my grip.

One, two, three, four, five. Bingo.

Nicha hugged me in celebration. I made all three tosses as the game master applauded me. Wow. Honestly, that may have been divine intervention, considering how awful I am at these games. It must have been five minutes before I moved because I stayed frozen in place, unable to let my victory sink in.

“You do have your father’s genes in you after all! Go ahead and pick a prize.” The game master said, snapping me back to reality.

I turned to Nicha, implying that she could choose the prize. She took the hint and pointed at a gigantic brown teddy bear. The game master grabbed it from the shelf and handed it over to me. I gave the stuffed animal to her, and she buried her face on its belly.

“Aaahh it’s so fluffy! You’re really good at this, Minki!” She cuddled the bear as I just chuckled and waved goodbye to the game master.

The rest of our day at the park was just riding the rest of the attractions and eating an ice cream sandwich along the way. Nicha and I had so much fun together, refusing to let go of the teddy bear. The sun had set and nightfall came, and our time was almost up. But before we left, there was one more ride we hadn’t gone in. The ferris wheel.

The passenger cabins were suited for four people, so we hopped on one, including our stuffed animal. She placed the bear next to her as the wheel began moving. From where I sat I could see the bright lights of the highway, overlooking the specks of people thousands of feet in the air. Nicha looked out the window before turning to me, taking my hand.

“I’ve had so much fun with you today,” she said, caressing my hand gently and pecking it. “Thank you.”

I gazed into her eyes, gleaming brighter than the stars in the night sky. She stared back at me, looking at me the same way. Then something sprung in me to lock lips with her. Nicha sunk into the kiss, pulling me close and our tongues swirled with each other. She was sweeter and tastier than dessert. I cupped her cheek and she placed her palm on mine, running it across her face.

She broke the kiss and slowly spread my legs. I panicked a little because of the situation we’re in. Nicha feigned ignorance and unbuttoned my pants, pulling them down alongside my boxers.

“Nicha! We’re still in public, remember?”

“Your cock says otherwise,” she replied, slapping my hardened cock with her hand. “I’ve been missing you so much. I can’t help myself.”

She seized my balls, giving them a rub. “You’re full. You’ve been missing me too.”

I groaned as she kissed me from my balls, making her way up to my tip. Her soft lips felt so good on my shaft. She looked at me with widened eyes, satisfied with the pleasure she’s giving me. I slumped into my seat and closed my eyes, allowing the euphoria of her swirling tongue to override my brain. If that wasn’t enough, she added her sensual moans into her slurps, giving me tingles up my spine.

My hands flowed through her black locks, while the rest of my body just numbed in pleasure. I didn’t realize she took me in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. Nicha bobbed her head back and forth, coating my shaft with her saliva. We didn’t care if anyone caught us in the lewd act. Nicha had her way with me and my body happily fell under control.

Pop. She released me from her mouth after blowing me off for a while. I was really sinking into that excitable feeling too. Appropriate timing too, as she finished up just as the car was about to reach ground level. I quickly buttoned up my pants as she pretended like she didn’t suck my cock leaving the pod.

We reached my car just as the park was closing, and she gave me a few pecks on the cheek. “When we get home, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want.” The thought of her splayed body already riled me up and I couldn’t be any more excited to drive home.

I turned the key. Rough gruffs roared from the engine. Again. Gruffs. In frustration I slapped my hands against the steering wheel. The car couldn’t start. Fuck.

“I just had it checked last week,” I grumbled. It was second hand but I didn’t have any excuse. Nicha giggled. She was still smiling as she watched me suffer and curse my car out. Oh, no matter how terrible a day gets, you’re always the jovial one.

Conveniently there was a subway station nearby whose line started and ended at the park. We both got out of the car and decided to take the train home. Nicha still refused to let go of the teddy bear.

Entering one of the cars, we sat at the back end of the left row. All the walking wore our legs out, so I slumped down in my seat. Nicha set the bear at the corner chair before sitting beside me. Drowsiness began kicking in and soon enough, I fell into a deep sleep holding my girlfriend’s hand tightly.

I felt a sensation below my chest that woke me up. My eyes opened slowly, vision blurring my sight. I looked to my left and saw only the teddy bear. She probably went to the bathroom, I thought. I tried going back to sleep, but I felt that twitching in my stomach again. I looked down and to my surprise, my pants were on the ground. Nicha was on her knees, sucking my erect cock.

“Nicha! What did I say about doing this in public?” I whispered, trying to avoid causing a disturbance with the nearby passengers.

She responded by taking more of me into her mouth, making me moan with her humming sounds. “Mmph, I can’t help myself. Your cock rubbed on me as we slept.”

It took all of my willpower not to submit to pleasure, but I was able to scout the area. There weren’t a lot of people on this late train ride home, except a man wearing a business suit calling someone on his phone seated on the opposite aisle.

I slowly hopped from one chair to the next using the rail, keeping Nicha busy on my shaft without her letting go into it. My free hands lifted the stuffed bear from its seat and placed it to where I was sitting. The prized toy was huge enough to act as camouflage from unsuspecting train-goers.

“Yeah. Let’s discuss the business trip to Japan at the cafe. I’ll move up so you can spot me as I get off,” the man said as he stood up from his seat and trudged to the front.

I sighed a breath of relief, but that was only a temporary win. I looked below to see how Nicha was doing and my eyes widened. She stripped off her overalls as her bare legs were now exposed.

“Nicha!” I almost screamed, panicking at the situation she’d got us into. She giggles at my reaction before kissing my tip with her soft lips.

“While you were busy covering us up I took my overalls off. I really can’t wait for you to fill me inside.” She said matter-of-factly.

I groaned in annoyance but I couldn’t help myself. She was opening herself and I guess my patience ran out too.

“We still have a few more stops to go before our stop,” She added, stroking me with her fingers.

My psyche crumbled under her control again. I resisted her lips, but not her hands rapidly pumping my cock. I threw my head back and allowed the pleasure to jack my brain, grazing my hands on her hair again.

I must have drowned deeply to the delight of Nicha’s handjob that I ignored the dings and voice of the operator over the speaker indicating the train’s destination. My eyes, struggling to open, somehow caught a glimpse of a few new passengers entering the car. Quickly I bent over and took her overalls as well as my large coat and veiled my crotch. She continued jerking me off under the covers, eager to get me to orgasm. The commuters gave me either weird or neutral looks as they walked by. I gave them a gaze of exhaustion, pretending as if I was ill. I just hope they didn’t notice the suspicious bulge below me.

Most of the travelers moved onto another cabin but some of them sat a few rows behind or ahead of ours. Thankfully none decided to sit in the same aisle as us. My hands, which were positioned on my lap, were grabbed by Nicha. She led it down to her clit and I felt her wetness. Even with some bush she was clearly dripping.

“Fuck me, please,” She whispered, each word laced with lust. “I’m so wet for you, babe.”

I hoisted her from the floor and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I rose for a minute before sitting down with her on me. I carefully lined my shaft against her crotch before burying my cock in her walls. She let out a lengthy, low moan as I started ramming into her tight pussy. My hands snuck through her shirt, pinching her taut nipples, making her squeal.

I could feel her juices cream my hair as I grinded back and forth, making sure she feels every inch of my length. One hand escapes her shirt to cover her mouth, preventing her from letting out wild screams. I pulled her face close to mine, her features indicating pleasure as our lips met for a shaky, passionate kiss.

As we continued making out my eyes caught a glimpse of a stewardess slowly making her way across the cabin, punching passengers’ tickets. I broke the kiss off and drove Nicha into my chest, bundling our bodies with her overalls and my coat. The attendant reached us, her formal smile shifting to a confused look at the weird image ahead of her.

“Oh I’m sorry, is she okay?” She asked matter-of-factly.

“Y-yeah. She’s just a little ill, so I’m warming her up, that’s all.” I answered, nodding repeatedly.

Nicha sold my act by freezing in my arms. I reached into my coat and pulled out two tickets. She punched them and smiled as she walked by, believing my lie.

My girlfriend looked me in the eyes, lust ridden over them. I squeal as her finger reaches my cock, still buried in her soaked cunt, stroking me off. Through the pleasant sensation I managed to keep my eyes alert, watching the passengers slowly leave one by one at the next stop. Now it was just the two of us in this cable car.

“We’re alone. Fuck me,” She said as the train started moving again.

Perhaps her eagerness drove me to thrust into her a lot faster than I thought. I rocked back and forth on the chair, drilling her with my shaft. Nicha closed her eyes and let the pleasure fill her, her mouth making a wide ‘O’ shape. At this point we ran out of care for our surroundings, made clear by our audible moaning. Her hands claw my nape and hair deeply, her slender figure bouncing up and down my lap.

The tightness of her pussy, as well as her soft, seductive moans made it hard for me to keep control. I was losing another round to her lewdness and this one would be the hardest of them all. I was all but ready to climax, only slowing down my pumps to keep the euphoria last longer.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” I whispered.

“On me. Fill me, please. Fill me with your cum.”

One. Two. Three. With a heavy groan I reached my peak. I felt shots of warm semen fill her womb. I pumped through my orgasm, shooting flecks of cum in her until I was drained. My hips stopped grinding. I put my head down in exhaustion over that intense, risky session. She cupped my face then kissed me on the cheek.

“T-that was s-so g-good. I can’t wait until we get home for more.”

There’s a clear trail of white on my chair and on my pants. My cock slipped out of her slit as I set her down on the ground.

“This is the last station! Thank you for riding with us.” The operator announced over the intercom. We’re almost at our destination.

I pulled her overalls off my coat and threw it at Nicha. “Put these on, we still have to walk home.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted. “I want to go home with your cum dripping down on me.”

I sighed. Nicha decided to be bratty on the way home, when everything was almost perfect and after all we’ve been through. But what else can I do?

I gave her my coat as I took her overalls and placed it in my bag. We got off the train with her wearing my coat, our mixed juices still running down her legs. We enjoyed our little walk home, having forgotten the prized teddy bear that she was attached to all day long, but that didn’t matter. As soon as we reached home, we stuffed our bodies into each other throughout the night.

—————

And that’s my first work done. I didn’t do a lot of editing as I was excited to publish this one. I finally decided to jump into the world of smut writing after being inspired for a while now. Thank you for reading!

#kpop smut #smut #g idle #minnie

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arizona2004 · 3 years

Text

Who the Real Wolves Are.part 1

Azriel x reader

warnings: OC death(not too descriptive), eventual smut?

word count: 1777

There will be 2-4 parts total. Part 2

It had just been an average day when I’d met Azriel. I was walking through the woods, taking the shortcut back to the small cottage I lived in with my grandmother. The first thing I noticed about him when we collided was how tall and built he was. It was frightening but also unbearably attractive. Then I noticed, looking up to his face, the beautiful color of his eyes- hazel. And they glowed golden in the sunlight. He’s beautiful, I thought. Behind him, I saw movement, and that’s when I noticed his wings.

They are magnificent, large, and as beautiful as his face. I take several paces back and continue admiring his wings. He’s fae, but that doesn’t frighten me as it should. I’m curious and step forward toward him. Now he’s the one to step back, and he cocks his head slightly as though confused or thoughtful.

I try again to take a step forward. He doesn’t move. I step again, and this time, looking up into his eyes, I reach out a hand to his wings. Quick as a fly, he grips my wrist and growls. That has me tensing, oops, I think. But when I look back into his eyes, they don’t look as angry as I feared. I relax slightly and try to pull my wrist back.

He lets go and asks, “What are you doing in the woods?” Now he does sound angry.

What gives him the right to be angry at me, I think, and say, “walking.”

“It’s not safe out here,” he says, “you shouldn’t be walking by yourself”

“Oh, really? I walk this path every day. I’ve never encountered anything dangerous.”

“Before today,” he responds, indicating himself.

“Are you threatening to harm me if I walk this path again?”

“No. There are dangerous things other than just me out here.”

“Well I don’t think you’re very dangerous at all,” I say, sticking out my chin.

“I’m very dangerous,” he sounds defensive now. It makes me laugh, and he furrows his brow at that, “what?” he asks. It makes me laugh harder, and I push forward, walking past him. “Don’t just walk away from me,” he grumbles behind me, “I’m very dangerous.”

He followed me home that day, but I didn’t mind. When I stood feet from the door to my house, I felt his presence fading and turned around. He wasn’t there. He was shooting into the air, and I assumed I’d never see him again, but that didn’t stop me from hoping.

Every day for the next two weeks, I searched for him on my way home, but he was never there. Then, one evening, I felt someone watching me. I was in nearly the same spot I had been when we collided weeks ago. I stopped and spun around looking, but I didn’t see him. Then, far in the distance to my left, I spotted him. Or just his hazel eyes. He was covered in shadows; it looked as though a tree was swallowing him.

As soon as our eyes connected, though, he vanished, and I was alone again. I walked the rest of the way home in confusion and slept fretfully that night. My thoughts were filled with questions and feelings I didn’t understand. I wonder about his name. I want to see him again. I want to touch him too. I want to know why he disappeared and what he was doing on that trail. Mostly, I want to know what his lips taste like.

I’ve been kissed many times before. Some were sloppy. Others fine. And a few were even good. I’d never done anything more intimate than kissing, but this male made me question what exactly I’d let him do to me if he tried.

Several more days pass before I sense him watching me again. This time I don’t look for him -afraid I’ll scare him away. I just stop in my tracks and speak to the space in front of me, “you never told me your name.” Seconds pass, and there’s no response.

I’m about to walk away when I hear from behind me, “Azriel.”

I turn to find him standing feet away from me on the path, “Azriel,” I repeat.

“Yes?”

Why are you watching me?” I take a step toward him.

“What’s in the basket?” he asks, avoiding the question and my eyes.

“Cookies for my grandmother. They're her favorite. Chocolate chip. Do you want one?” I ask the last bit, sticking my hand into the basket and pulling out a cookie, walking closer to him. I lift the cookie to his lips and watch as he takes a bite. His lips graze my fingers as he bites into the cookie.

“Delicious,” he says, grabbing my wrist, pulling it toward my lips. He stares into my eyes as he takes another bite. I swallow and try to calm myself down. When he finishes the cookie, I pull my gaze away from his face. I try, at least, but there's chocolate on his lip. Instinctively, I brush my thumb over his lip and pick up the chocolate. He sucks my thumb into his mouth, licking up all the chocolate, then releases it with a pop.

I’m faintly aware of the squeaky noise I make at his actions and the wobbling of my legs, but I just continue looking into his eyes.

“The sun’s about to set,” he says, “You probably should get home.”

And so I start walking home, and he walks by my side. When we’re mere feet from the house, again, he disappears into the sky.

This continues for many more weeks. Moments after I enter the forest, Azriel is standing next to me. Occasionally we talk, but most days, we walk in silence. And after dreaming of it plenty, and probably not thinking it through enough. I lean over and kiss him before he flys away. I had only intended to kiss his cheek, but he had been turning toward me, so the kiss had been placed on the corner of his mouth. When I skipped the few more feet to the house, I felt his eyes on my back, and a grin plastered my face.

The day following, Azriel, it seemed, decided to follow my lead. When he met me in the woods and walked me home, he stopped further from the house, this time. I turned to him, and he leaned down, placing his lips to mine. They were soft and warm. I leaned into the kiss, and when I did, his tongue darted out to lick the seam of my lips. I moan, opening my mouth for him.

His tongue swept into my mouth and gently caressed my own. The kiss was slow and gentle except where Az’s teeth nipped at my lips. My hands held onto him tightly at his shoulders while he gripped my thighs, pulling me up to him. I had never been kissed quite like this before. It was soft and hard at the same time. I felt encased in the kiss. I never wanted my lips to part from his. The way his lips, tongue, and teeth moved with mine had me moaning and wanting more.

After some time, however, Azriel pulls back. We’re both gasping for breath, foreheads pressed together, and Azriel sets me on my feet. He takes a step back, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, without looking directly at me, lips pulling up at the corners.

“I-” I try to respond, but he’s already pushed into the air. I walk the rest of the way home, grinning wildly, and collapse into bed that night thinking of our kiss.

The weeks that follow are similar. Some days we walk. Some we talk. And other days, we find ourselves rolling through the brush tangled in each other’s arms.

One evening Azriel does not show himself, which isn’t unusual. What is strange, however, is arriving home to find men in my house. They’re speaking to my gran and when I arrive point their questions at me.

Have you seen a fae male? Spoken to him? Fraternized with him?

“You know our laws about the fae, don’t you deary?” The man in charge asked when I’d denied all his accusatory questions.

I did, of course. My village didn’t allow any relations with the fae. And the law wasn’t just against the fae, but the people too. Since the wall fell, the village leaders made rules about interacting with fae. Anyone thought to be aiding or supporting a faerie was considered a fae fraternizer and sentenced to death. The children of the blessed didn’t dare come near our village, they’d be killed on sight.

“Yes. I’m aware. I haven’t had any relations with any fae. I’ve never even seen one.” I say as steadily as I can manage. I glance at my gran and fear I: revealed everything with the look in my eyes.

“Are you sure? There have been reports of a winged man in the area. People say they’ve seen him near this cottage. With a woman. Though no one is sure if the woman is human or not, I think she is.” He looks at me pointedly, and I want to correct his misuse of pronouns. Azriel is no mere ‘man’. I hold my tongue, though.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The man’s face lights up, and he pulls a dagger from his belt. Then a quiet voice says next to me, “it was me,” my face falls, and I look to my gran in horror. The man turns the dagger toward gran, “I met the male in the woods while picking berries. He didn’t seem to care about my wrinkled age; he’s quite old himself. I’ve-” She didn’t get to finish the sentence, though, as he struck her.

I immediately was pulled from my shock and shouted as I lunged at the man. The other men simply pulled me away. I fought at every turn, and they beat me relentlessly. They only stopped when I was bloody on the ground. Unable to move. The leader of the group knelt where my grandmother sat, crouched on the floor, weeping for me, and plunged the knife into her chest. A choked cry left my throat. The men left us lying on the floor after swearing threats. I didn’t hear any of it, though. My attention was focused on the lifeless body of my gran, inches from me. I struggled to breathe and reached out my hand for hers. She was cold, and I realized it was hours later. Then darkness came and swept me away.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel imagine #acotar fic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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damianodavide · 3 years

Text

Never stopped loving you (pt. II)

Based on this prompt | Part I | Part III (will be added).

Summary: Damiano x reader [undefined gender].

When reader is confronted with their painful feelings about Damiano, they desperately needs to talk about it.

Word count: 1,5K

Consists: some fluff, more angst this time, sadness, pining.

Thanks again to @daviddamiano for proofreading. Inspired by 'Young Heart' by Birdy.

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As you were laying on your back on the towel, the sound of laughter carried over the pool, immediately followed by Ethan’s defensive response. ‘If you say so Edgar,’ replied Damiano, still laughing. Victoria, who had still been sitting on the sunbed staring at her phone, jumped up, eager to join in on teasing Ethan. Normally you would be too, but as cheerful you had felt just moments before, your mood had suddenly changed.

You couldn’t help thinking back to the first time you’d joined the band, when they just started their Il Ballo Della Vita tour. You had finished high school, and had no idea what to study. Even though Vic was younger than you were, you looked up to her for following her dream into music. It was her idea, of course, for you to join them as their photographer. ‘You are creative and you know you should do something with it,’ she had said. You worried about not fitting in, since you had never felt quite confident. After telling Vic this, she just sniggered. ‘Have you seen us,’ she’d said ‘we’re outsiders just like you.’ You knew were an average photographer at best, but eventually Vic convinced you to come.

You turned your head to the side again, seeing all four of them, now standing together in front of the glass doors. From what you could hear they were discussing the rehearsal. Damiano was standing with his back towards you, two glasses of iced coffee in his hands. You turned your eyes away from his lean stature and sighed.

It had been so easy for you to fall for him then. It had seemed like everyone knew immediately that you liked Damiano, including himself. You endured weeks of Victoria and Thomas’ knowing looks, while he always found a way to make you blush. You had often sought refuge with Ethan, since he was the only one who didn’t tease you. Not for a moment you had believed he felt the same way about you, until that first kiss in the dressing room had changed everything.

You closed your eyes shut. How could a memory that once was so intensely happy, now be so painful? Still you remembered vividly every sound, every touch, the way his dark eyes looked up close. His breath on your lips… It felt like a tight band closed around your chest. The worst of it was that you couldn’t possibly be allowed to feel this way, since you were the one who had ended it.

You heard footsteps and sat up. Damiano walked toward you. He handed you the glass and sat down cross-legged. You could only bring yourself to smile weakly at him, as you sipped the drink. Damiano, oblivious, started talking about how he’d made fun of Ethan once again. You watched his face while he talked animatedly, his hands gesturing and imitating Ethan’s voice. His warm, open expression made you feel even worse. ‘It’s always so easy,’ Damiano concluded. ‘Ha, yeah nice,’ you said. Damiano’s face fell slightly. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘Yes, of course. I’m fine, just – tired.’ You didn’t sound convincing.

‘Did I hear you’re going to rehearse in a minute?’ you tried. ‘Yes,’ Damiano answered. ‘But I’ve convinced them to give us a minute to finish our coffee.’ He smiled at you. Suddenly looking a bit unsure, he asked: ‘Will you join us? To take some pictures? I bet we’ll look amazing.’ You smiled at the sarcastic note in his voice, looking down at your glass. ‘No, sorry not this time,’ you replied. You needed some time alone to collect yourself. ‘I promised my grandma to call her back, we were supposed to call this morning.’

This was true and you were happy for the excuse. You had totally forgotten that morning when she had called, just when you were about to leave for the tattoo parlour with Damiano. ‘Of course,’ Damiano said, ‘I can’t keep hogging your attention.’ His face was unreadable. ‘No, that’s not what I meant – .’ You could slap yourself.

Before you could say anything else, Thomas appeared next to you. ‘So finally finished?’ he asked. ‘If we still want to rehearse before dinner, I think we should go inside now.’ Ethan had followed Thomas, now standing next to him silently. ‘Will you come too?’ Thomas asked, looking at you. ‘Ah – no, I’m going to call nonna’ you repeated. Thomas laughed. ‘Probably a good thing, we’ve looked better.’ He turned pointedly to Damiano, a smug look on his face. ‘Yes, lets go’ Damiano said, ignoring Thomas’ joke. As you got up to follow them, it seemed like Damiano avoided your gaze.

Once in your room, you were glad you could call your grandma, because you wouldn’t have to say much. As predicted, she kept rattling on. You only had to say the periodical ‘hmm’ and ‘yes’ to keep her going. The antics of her boring neighbours were now a useful distraction. After a while she finally asked how you had been. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ you answered. ‘And how was the tour, was it nice? Did they behave themselves? Their clothes were quite scarce weren’t they? Even Victoria’s, I’m not sure…’ ‘Yeah it was nice nonna,’ you interrupted. Their clothing was a favourite subject of hers. ‘We had lots of fun,’ you added, ‘they were really popular.’ ‘Oh that is lovely,’ she said.

When she hung up half an hour later, you wished you could’ve called longer. The anxious feeling had instantly returned. How you wished to talk to him now, say how you really felt, but you couldn’t. You would just hurt him again. Painfully you remembered how heartbroken he had been. You didn’t fit into his life, that hadn’t changed since you’d broken up. There was a knock on the door. Your stomach lurched. It wasn’t Vic, she wouldn’t have knocked. Could it…?

‘Can I come in?’ It was Ethan. ‘Y-yes of course,’ you exhaled. He opened the door. His hair was in a messy bun on top of his head. ‘Have you already finished?’ you asked. You had expected them to go on longer. ‘Yes,’ he said, hesitating in the doorway, ‘Can I ask you something?’ ‘Uh, sure?’ Puzzled you gestured to Vic’s bed and sat down on your own. For a moment you both sat there, until he finally said: ‘Something’s going on with you and Damiano.’ It wasn’t a question. You stared at him, had you been that obvious?

‘What makes you say that?’ you finally asked. Ethan frowned. ‘I don’t know, I had this feeling, ever since we started the tour. Then at the pool, there was something about the way you looked at him. Damiano wasn’t himself during the rehearsal either…’ His voice trailed off. You often forgot how perceptive he could be. You now realised yourself there had been a turning point when you came back to join the tour. Would Damiano have noticed this? ‘So?’ Ethan asked. ‘To be honest Ethan, I have no idea anymore,’ you said softly. He just looked at you, waiting for you to continue.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone about your feelings for Damiano, but now, in Ethan’s quiet presence, it spilled out. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ you said in a small voice. ‘I hoped our time apart would’ve made my feelings for him die down, but of course they haven’t. I know it’s unfair to him, I do.’ You looked at your hands lying in your lap.

Victoria had told you, hesitantly, how devastated Damiano had been. That it had taken months before he wanted to talk about it with her. ‘I think you should talk to him,’ Ethan said. You stared at him for a second, unable to speak.

‘How could I? How could I tell him now that I still – still love him? After I chose to – .’ As you looked at Ethan you suddenly had the feeling you had to defend yourself. ‘We clearly had different lives to lead! We always had to hide our love, for the paparazzi, the fans, everyone… And we kept having fights about these stupid things. I just – I couldn’t do it.’ You took a ragged breath and looked away.

‘It’s okay,’ Ethan said, softly. After a moment, he went on saying: ‘I still think you should talk to him.’ You opened your mouth, and Ethan went on quickly. ‘Okay, maybe not about that you still love him, but have you ever told him how you felt then? Why you left?’ You shook your head. ‘No, not really.’

In fact you hadn’t been able to say more than what you had rehearsed in your head without bursting into tears. You had tried to say that it wasn’t the right time for them, and that maybe they would find each other again when it was. Damiano had interrupted you, tears in his eyes, asking: ‘If I’m not enough for you now, why would I ever be?’ It still felt like a punch in the gut. You looked at your lap again, blinking. ‘Hey, shhh,’ Ethan said, patting your knee with his hand. It took you a moment to collect yourself. ‘I’m okay,’ you said finally, smiling weakly at Ethan. ‘I don’t know, maybe you’re right… ’

At that moment Victoria barged in. ‘[y/n], tell me that you want to order sushi too, the guys don’t – oh.’ Victoria looked from one to the other, mouth open. Before she could say something you cleared your throat and said: ‘Yeah, I’d love sushi.’ ‘Me too,’ Ethan added. The three of you you stared at each other, before Ethan stood up awkwardly. ‘Talk,’ he told you with a nod, and quickly walked past Victoria. ‘What was that about?’ she asked. You just shook your head apologetically. You wouldn’t be able to explain.

taglist: @rocketqueen , @tabi-toast , @butterfly-skinnylegend , @glittermalia, @queen-of-brokenhearts, @maneskinmademedoit, @oro-e-diamanti, @risingtripletaurus, @ohhoneyx, @anangelwhodidntfall, @tiaamberxx (let me know if you want to be added for part III).

#måneskin #damiano david #måneskin imagine #damiano david x reader #damiano david angst #damiano x reader #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #bonus points if you listen to young heart and are able to guess the references I've put in here #basically she wrote this fic for me #I could never have been so articulate #as if anyone will read this ha #I'm a bit afraid it will flop now my dash is good as dead

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slytherweasley · 3 years

Text

Cam girl (George Weasley x reader)

Warnings: Smut and swearing

Summary: George logs onto his computer every week at the same time to watch his favourite cam girl because she reminds him of a girl he used to have a crush on at Hogwarts. One day he decides to pay to private message her and she responds.

George logs onto his computer at 10pm, the same time every Monday, Tuesday and Friday. Today’s Friday, the last day of the week until he has to wait until Monday. For the past month George has been watching a cam girl, she goes by Honey but that’s not her name. The thing that excites George about it all is that she’s anonymous, no one knows what she looks like under the mask.

You setup your computer so the webcam can get everything, you find all the toys you want to use and line them up. You put on your mask and watch the time as it hits 10pm and press stream. The viewers get transferred to your livestream. People assume everyone there is old men but you’ve seen pictures in private messages and some of them are quite good looking. Your job isn’t all sex, for the first 10 minutes you have conversations with the viewers and sometimes people just want to private message you to have some company.

George has never typed anything in the chat before because he’s too nervous too, he doesn’t know what to say. He watches you as you sit on the bed and answer comments from the live chat. He originally clicked on your stream because you reminded him of a girl he used to have a crush on at Hogwarts. She was in Hufflepuff and he had said only a few words to her but he knew so much about her.

You stop answering questions when you check the time and get ready. You ease into it by touching yourself over your lingerie. George tries to stop himself from touching himself so early in the show but the way you moan and mutter dirty things makes his mind go insane. You start to strip first revealing your breasts and you see the chat comments speed up as more new comments roll in and more viewers tune in. You get an average of 5-25k views, it all depends on the day.

You strip until you’re fully naked and lay down spreading your legs out. You use your fingers to spread your pussy open and tease your clit. George starts to palm himself through his pants. You get out a pink dildo, the men prefer 6-8 inches and bright coloured so you tend to use them but you have a large collection. You get closer to the webcam and lick up the dildo putting it in your mouth and making it wet.

You put it inside you once you’re satisfied with how long you’d been deepthroating it. George pulls his pants and boxers down and touches himself right away, wasting no time. He usually cums twice, it doesn’t take too long for him to get hard after once because he watches the whole show.

You liked doing the show because it is a way to let out all your stress and you have a desirable body that thousands of people want to see and you get generous donations during the livestream and to pay to private message you. You stay up for a few hours after your stream to talk to people because the more you talk the more they spend money on you.

Once you’d cum a few times and filled up the time you end the stream by reminding people about private messages, $5 to talk the whole night. George felt an urge to message you but he decided not tonight, he had to go to work the next day and help Fred with the shop. He took a shower and couldn’t stop thinking about you, he got ready for bed and closed his eyes and realised he couldn’t sleep if he didn’t attempt to message you. It was a couple hours after your show had ended and he decided to message you. You probably get hundreds of messages a night.

Ha pays the money to send a message he types in something simple “Hi, I watch your shows every night” he presses send and waits a bit doing other things, the notification pops up on the corner of his screen and he sees you answered. “Thank you, it means a lot, we haven’t spoken before, have we?” it was polite but George was thrilled you actually answered. He immediately types back “No we haven’t but I’ve been watching for a month now, I never got the courage to even send a live chat until now.”

George stayed up for hours talking to you. You signed off for the night to all the other men in your chats just to talk to him. He seemed like one of the guys who was nice and you were both the same age, he’s 25 as well but you don’t give out your age or actual name. You could pass for younger or older. Every night even when shows weren’t on you’d talk, the more detail you knew about him and the more sexual the conversations were the more you liked him. You’d stay up extra late to talk to him and you found yourself realising you’re getting attached and giving him false hope that you’d meet up one day.

“What’s your real name?” He asks “I can’t tell you, it’s apart of the mystery, besides you haven’t told me your name yet” “I understand and I do prefer not knowing, my name is George just so you know.” Your heart skips a beat and you feel as though you’d been transported back to Hogwarts, you had a huge crush on George Weasley, you didn’t know him well but you fancied him and your friends knew, you had common friends but never became friends. You used to be so shy and that is the one thing you wish you got over sooner so you could become friends with George. As far as you know he’s been doing very well for himself at Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes. You always thought about going in there but thinking about how shy you were makes you feel insecure and shy.

“I love that name, I used to know someone with that name, he was a great person, just like you” you reply “I’ll admit I’m so surprised you’ve been talking to me everyday for a week” “I’ve grown to like you, George.”After talking for another week you couldn’t get him off your mind and you knew that you were in too far.

“I don’t want you to keep paying every night, here’s my number. I trust you enough.” George just assumed you talked to everyone the same as him but you seemed to like him. He saves the number in his phone under Honey.

As the weeks went by, you were talking more than just at night. You became friends and you started to hate that George was calling you Honey. “I wish I could talk to you in person” he types “Why don’t we do it then?” “In person?” “Lets meet up, we can hook up at my place if you’re comfortable” you couldn’t believe you were doing this. “Are you sure? Neither of us know much about each other’s physical appearance, you don’t even know what I look like.” “I don’t care, I’ve fallen for you and we should meet up.” You send him an address to meet up a couple blocks from your house just in case he isn’t as sweet on the internet.

You get there early and stand on the busy street, each man that goes by you get hopeful until you see him, George Weasley standing there looking around for someone. In a matter of seconds everything clicks in your head, you’ve been talking to George Weasley, no wonder you were so in love with this guy you’d just met online. You apparate out of there before he sees you. You get into your apartment and send him a text “I’m so sorry George, I just threw up and I’m not in the mood to see anyone, I hope you know I’m not an asshole.” He texts back almost immediately “I get it, don’t feel bad we can reschedule” “Thank you for understanding.”

The next couple days you ignored his messages and he even tried to contact you on live chat but you wouldn’t message back. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t what you expected, I think I got the message” George knew it seemed weird she would text right as they were supposed to meet, she definitely saw him and ran. Your heart breaks and you feel obligated to message “Are you free right now?” You text back “Why?” “Let’s meet up, same spot and I promise I’ll be there to explain everything” “I’ll be there soon.”

You use magic to clean up your house just in case he isn’t grossed out by you and does want to come back to hook up. You apparate and see he is already there waiting, he seems shocked that you apparated “Honey?” He asks trying to get closer to see your face in the dark. You take a deep breath and get closer to him so he can see your face “Y/n?” “Hi George” “Did you know?” “No, I had no idea until I saw you and got scared so I apparated home.” “What do you think?” “I could ask the same” “I asked you first” “I’ve always fancied you, since about fourth year but I didn’t know you so I didn’t say anything.” “We knew each other just weren’t close” “So what do you think?” “I’ve fancied you since fifth year so I’m happy, I’m shocked though, you were so shy.” “I’m a different person to what I used to be” “I can tell” “So what do you want to do?” “Love, this makes this so much better, let’s go to yours.”

You take his hand and apparate him into your apartment. You help take off his coat and lead him to your bedroom. “Wow, this looks so much cooler in person” “It’s probably because you’ve only seen one wall of the room.” He walks around “Do you want to see the toys?” He nods and you open up a few drawers full of them. “Wow, that’s a lot, do you ever use magic?” “Sometimes if I’m tired of doing it myself but never on camera.”

You make the first move and kiss George, his lips are cold but your warm lips pressed to his feels nice. “Can I undress you?” “Of course, just promise me you won’t treat me differently now you know I’m me” “No way, I get to fuck you on the bed I’ve seen for months, I’m not going to treat you any differently than how I told you I would.” You smile and bite your lip trying to hide your excitement as he discards your clothes.

“You’re just as beautiful in real life” he kisses down your neck to your breasts and sucks on one of your nipples and you let out a whimper, he kisses down your body and hovers above your pussy. “Please George” you moan, he licks from your core up to your clit. He fingers you with two fingers first before sucking on your clit and curling his fingers inside you. Your fingers grasp his soft hair and pull on it while the other grips the side of the bed,

“George! I’m going to cum” you yell and he pounds his fingers into you “Fuck” he pulls his fingers out of you and licks them off. He takes off his shirt and unbuttons his pants while you’re recovering from your high. “I’m ready, I need your cock in me, George” you palm him through his pants and slide a hand into his boxers, jerking him off. He pulls them down “Lay down” you do as he says while he strokes himself a few times before lining himself up with your core.

He slides himself in and groans at the feeling “Fuck” he moans and slowly picks up the pace until he gets used to the feeling. “You’re so fucking tight, Y/n” he pounds himself into you, you feel yourself sink into the mattress with every stroke. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a loud moan. “So fucking hot” You grip onto his bicep and look into his eyes when you are about to cum. Without saying anything he already knows “Come on, you’re so close” he rubs your clit with his other hand and you finish around him. “Holy shit, feels so good, you’re throbbing on my cock” you feel him finish and he lays beside you.

You lay your head on his chest “Thank you” he says “No, thank you, that was great” “I know you don’t do this for everyone so thanks and if you you did like it and want me to come around again I’ll be happy to.” You kiss his lips “George I want to see you again, a lot more often but also do other things like go to dinner or something.” You wait to see what he will say hoping he will agree. “Are you asking me on a date?” “No im asking you to be my boyfriend” “Really?” He sounds surprised “You don’t have to say yes I was just saying I’d like that” “Yes.”

George was fine with you doing your job, your shoes ever night and private messaging other guys because he knew that’s what you had to do to earn money. If he couldn’t be at your apartment one night he’d just watch your livestream.

#george weasley x y/n #fred and george #george smut #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george x reader

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

Text

Springing Forward (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: hey there cathy! i’m a new follower and i was wondering if i might request a zemo x reader where it’s maybe pre ultron and reader’s family own a flower shop in sokovia and somehow through that they meet? idk i know it’s super random but i’ve got spring fever 😂 (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Your family owned a little flower shop. You assisted every now & then. One day, your parents had departed for a while, a man entered the store & changed your life forever.

Words: 3,255

Warnings: fluff, soft!Zemo, it is so sweet, I promise, pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns :), no TFATWS spoilers (you’re welcome), (Y/F/F) = your favorite flowers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Spring was your favorite season of the year. Flowers started blossoming. Nature turned colorful again. Lush hues decorated the outsides. Your family owned a petite shop in the central of downtown in Sokovia. The store was your whole pride & joy. The façade was stacked with uneven, light grey cobblestones. The sign on top of the glass door was illuminated with a warm & congenial light. While you did not have that many guests, your regular customers supported you continuously. Helping out your parents had never bothered you. It was a family business. Your assistance was appreciated & the local citizens enjoyed whenever you served them.

Plants & flowers were your hobby. Somehow, they grew when you tended to them. You managed to flourish almost dead ones. That was one of your skills. Your handling with the people who visited your shop left a good impression. The earnings were not a fortune but you made do. The smiles of your pleased customers were enough to balance that out. Not even once had you been bad-tempered. If something bothered you, then you suppressed that negativity for the sake of your reputation. After all, it never had anything to do with the shop itself.

The mornings were your favorites. When the rest of the town was still fast asleep & the birds slowly awakened with rhythmical chirps. The slight breeze that touched your skin tenderly. The goosebumps erupting where your clothes did not cover you. Yet, you abandoned the thought of pulling over a jacket. As the hours ticked by, the sun would amplify, leaving you content with your tenuous t-shirt. Your parents had left town for relaxation. The shop would be solely yours for the upcoming days. Your little apartment was not far away from your workplace. The short walks back & forth were forever welcomed. During your lunch break, if your job & the weather allowed you that, you wandered through the narrow backstreets. Every corner was familiar but the small details that frequently transformed always fascinated you anew.

Years ago, you loathed leaving the country you were born in to start a new life here in Sokovia. Your parents were incomprehensibly overstrained with your whim that seemed to worsen daily. Friends were abandoned in the process of moving. The beginning in a foreign area was strenuous. Not only did it take a toll on you but on your parents as well. The loan enabled your family’s dream of owning their own shop. Independence was an indescribable feeling. Ever since, your fondness of this place had been increasing steadily. And while you would not exactly say that you had friends here, you definitely made a few acquaintances. Friendships would follow sooner or later. Besides, your work consumed almost all of your time. You lived to work & you worked to live. It was as simple as that. Your lifestyle functioned like that. It was exhausting, sometimes excessive, but you handled it just fine. Still, every now & then, you found yourself craving something. What that particular something was had yet to be discovered.

The delightful ringing of the bell whenever someone entered your shop reached your ears. It was early in the morning. Usually, the first costumers rolled in closer to lunch time. Not that you were complaining. Your body spun around, your apron getting stuck on an infinitesimal bump standing out of your oak wooden counter. Silent curses left your lips, too quiet for the stranger to hear. The struggles were noticeable & a presence approached you. You had yet to glance at the person but your delicate hands were busy with fiddling the fabric.

“May I?” a soft, accented voice spoke up & startled you slightly. Your eyes flickered up & locked with warm, chocolate brown ones. For a few moments, time stopped. Your heartbeat sped up. Something about this simple interaction let sparks burst. And when his lips turned into a gentle smile, you were gone for. Never before had something similar occurred. Especially not that quickly. It was obvious that you were staring a little too intensively. But his eyes did not leave yours, lingering just for a fraction longer. He had asked you a question. As an owner, you completely failed your task. You neither welcomed him in nor did you engage in a conversation. Coughing to hide the embarrassment, you averted your gaze & began.

“Welcome. Um, I’d really appreciate your help, thank you.” your voice wavered but it did not crack. His hands, covered by leather gloves, stretched out & he initiated the process of freeing you. The thick material that hid his fingers was offbeat. Average people tended to avoid gloves during this season. It was warm enough without them. Then again, this stranger did not strike you as average. This brief meeting was proof enough.

“There you go.” he commented after successfully liberating you. “As good as new.” he radiated a feeling that made you believe he was a well-spoken man. You were unsure how exactly you ended up with that conclusion.

“Thank you.” both of your hands reached to the hem of your apron, glancing down at it, checking for possible damages. But, as he alleged, it was perfectly fine. Another moment of silence went by, then you slowly returned to reality. You occupied your according place behind the counter. Back straightened & regained composure. “Apologies for my unprofessional behavior. I will ensure you a discount for your purchase. Right…what did you need?” your rambling was mortifying. Hiding your emotions was not necessarily one of your skilled characteristics.

“Please, do not bother with special treatments.” one of his hands raised in front of his chest, signaling that he was being serious. It did not change that, deep down, you felt poorly. “I was actually looking for…” a chuckle interrupted his speech. “I am uncultured regarding this area, truthfully. If you offer me your assistance now then the two of us are even.” the following wink made you all giddy. What was it about him?

“Okay, well…” your previous painstakingness was pushed down. “What is the occasion?” it was always surprising to gain new customers. His accent betrayed him a little. And what a sweet betrayal it was.

“A decisive meeting with a higher up. An efficient first impression would be convenient.” he enlightened you, choosing his words carefully. Well-spoken he was but that was manifested from the very beginning.

“Any preferred colors, types?” one of your eyebrows perked up. Moving your body around the counter & in the middle of the modest shop, you reacted unwillingly after brushing past his frame. Your shoulder barely grazing but enough to trigger uneven breaths.

“How does a common purchase for such an event look like?” you peered over your shoulder, a bit of amusement written over your features. While he appeared like a literate man, ten times wiser than you, this was a field you surpassed with ease. A quick glimpse on your forearm, where a barely functioning watch swathed your wrist caressingly, confirmed your previous assumption. There was still a load of time left until the shop’s actual occupation. You could bestow him your aggregate attention. The unnamed stranger absorbed your every word of your explanation. Your eyes sparkled with a newly witnessed enthusiasm. The fact that he did not heckle your talk during the entirety of your tour through the shop brought you desired satisfaction. He was the first person to display genuine interest in your employment.

“God, please excuse me trailing off. I did not intend to bore you.” all of a sudden, your energetic self switched to an insecure one.

“I can assure you that you did not bore me. Not for one second.” his affirming smile calmed your incertitude. Together, the two of you picked up various individual flowers. A compiled bouquet would portray him in the best light. Your hands moved on their own. You could still hold a conversation with the man on the other end of the wooden table. It separated the back of the shop from the front, main area. His fascination for you expanded by every further move you performed. Lastly, you wrapped the ends of the stems with a fine, almost sheer paper. To secure everything & hold it in place, you braided a ribbon that matched the color of the textile.

“All done.” you showcased the finished product to him, a small, gratified smile adorning your face. “What do you think?” the question was almost shy, it needed reassurance. Which made him ponder why you were so doubtful of yourself & your abilities. To him, you prepared the most gorgeous bouquet he had ever caught a sight of.

“Plainly astonishing.” his praise warmed you from deep within. “You really do have an unbelievable talent.” you thanked him quietly, eyes flickering down to avoid his intense stare. By no means was it displeasing or inadvertent. It was sweet & thoughtful. You wanted to extend his stay, fearing that this would be a one-time interaction. But you could not remain on this high you were currently experiencing. The sound of the entrance bell fetched you back to the present. Another customer that needed attendance. Your togetherness approached an undesirable end. Controlled fingers punched a well-rehearsed pattern into the cash register. The blue numbers flashed for the man in the coat to see. Gloves & a fur-coat during spring? He was the only living soul you had ever met that made it work.

A wallet was pulled out of his pocket. Fine fingers retrieved the money. A beat went by. Two. Almost like he wanted to savor the little time you two had left. But your duties called. He would not use up any more of your duration. Maybe he had already overstepped & his appearance was no longer welcomed or appropriate. The notes were handed over. Your movements like a slow motion scene in your favorite movie. The scenery grasping your every bit of attentiveness. It was something you wanted to remember. To think back & hope to perceive that same feeling you experienced during the first time. You reached for it. The moment his clothed hand touched your smooth skin stilled the world once again. The gentle brush of his thumb over the back of your hand could have been missed if it was not for your body to be this alerted.

“Thank you for your exceedingly helpful guidance, …?” his eyes looked up at you sheepishly. You knew what he was intending. It was a silent question for your name. And you were more than eager to comply.

“(Y/N).” it was short, adequate. His smirk held a deeper meaning. What it was exactly, you could not identify.

“Why, thank you, (Y/N).” his emphasis was on your name. The way it rolled from his tongue was mesmerizing. You found yourself craving to hear that sound constantly. But you were not even sure if it was naïve to hope for his return. He would exit any second. Leaving behind a pit only he could fill. Your train of thought converted into utter despair. He was your customer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You never told me your name.” you called out when he was almost out of the door. One last time, he glanced over his shoulder. The fur tickling his chin a bit. One last time, you studied the way his lips lifted. One last time, you believed.

“Helmut.” he replied. “It was nice meeting you.” his hand pushed the door open. His body moved through the doorway. As fast as he entered your life, he left just as quickly.

“You too.” you whispered but he was no longer here to listen to your words. Your face fell, the previous spark in your eyes completely gone. The person in front of you waited until you paid all of your attention to them. It took a lot of effort but you managed in the end. The only difference was that they were not him. Nobody would ever be him again. But he vanished. Like dust in the wind, blowing away his remaining scent that had filled your nostrils.

Was it possible to crave a person you barely knew? Your subconscious sprinkled salt in your wound. Brains could be ridiculous. Nonsense. The teasing of your dreams, in the dark of the calm night, was echoing. Ricocheting off the walls that kept your emotions buried inside. Similar to being the main character in a horror film, desperately looking for a way out but being trapped no matter what. Why were you reacting like that? Why did Helmut waltz into your shop without any restrictions, turning your entire life, your entire world, upside down? He was one mysterious man. Uncommon, remarkable. Someone who swept you off your feet by simply being. One charming smile & you were gone for. The first words he directed to you & he gained you wholly. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea what he did to you. He had no idea that your thoughts were solely revolving around him ever since his entrance to the store. His entrance to your heart. What was happening to you? You had to move on, that much was clear. Truth was, you abominated that thought. Your focus had to shift. Back to your work, back to your task.

The following day started off with a bad mood. Certainly, the upcoming hours would be draining. You could not allow the shop’s closure. Not even for a day. Your family’s existence depended on it. Everything was the same. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, a short walk. The peacefulness before customers visited. Yet, everything was not the same at all. Because there was this nagging feeling inside of you & you knew you could not get rid of it. The ringing sound caught you off guard. It was unusual. Only once had someone entered this early in the mornings. And this one time was yesterday. Your shock was visible. Helmut’s presence was unexpected but definitely not unsought.

“Helmut?” your voice was an octave higher. The excitement emitting from you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” he strutted closer to you. The same gloves, the same coat. The same offbeat & arcane man.

“What brings you here today?” your head tilted, trying to find a possible explanation for his return. “Wait. Was the bouquet improper?” immediately, thousands of dark, negative thoughts were rushing through you. You did your very best with the flower’s arrangement. Never before had you spent this much time & effort.

“No, not at all.” one of his hands raised & rested on your shoulder, squeezing the tiniest bit. You had to take a deep breath in order to stay calm. As calm as it was possible with him around. “The exact opposite. Which is why I am here again. Could you assist me once more?”

“Of course. What were you envisioning? Who are the flowers for?” your elbows propped onto the countertop, gazing lovingly into his orange shining brown eyes.

“I meant to ask for your favorites. You strike me as one with fantastic taste.” Helmut certainly had a way with words. No matter what he said, you found yourself captivated by him. The topic could be dreary but he made it sound fascinating.

“My favorites? It’s tough to choose one when there are so many stunning options.” you quieted down for a few seconds to really contemplate your answer. It was flattering that he asked for your opinion. “If you make me pick then I’d say…hmm, probably (Y/F/F).”

“Perfect. I would like to purchase a bouquet then.” right away, you got to work. Helmut watched your skilled hands. His enthusiasm only died down when he saw the frown forming on your face. “What is it?”

“Huh?” you were in your thoughts. His question was almost missed by you.

“That frown. Where is it coming from?” only Helmut could be so straight forward about such a small detail he had noticed. Would you tell him the truth? You should not. He did not need to know that your mood turned sour because he bought more flowers. This time, he did not let you know about the purpose of them. Another dinner with a higher up? Highly unlikely. But not entirely impossible. You assumed he would gift them to a woman. Hence why you sidestepped his question masterly.

“I believe it happens when I’m focused on my task.” you hoped your smile was reassuring but Helmut saw right through you. In the end, he did not comment on it. There was a building tension between you two. This time around, there were no lingering touches. He left the shop once again & it was clear that this was it. Helmut would not come back again. And maybe it was for the better. Your heart was too fragile to be crushed by his bare hands. It was not fair to blame basically a stranger. He had a life you had no insight on. But the aching could not be ignored.

Just as you wanted to lock the door to your shop for your lunch break, a voice reached your ears, followed by hurried footsteps. Turning around to look for the cause of it, you were shocked for a second time today. It was Helmut. The same bouquet he had purchased earlier clasped in one of his hands. The other one balanced two cups of coffee. As much as you wanted to withhold your smile, it was inevitable to repress.

“(Y/N)!” he was slightly out of breath. “I expected you were gone already.”

“Good that your expectation was wrong.” the warmth that filled your body was endearing.

“Here.” he handed you the flowers & your eyebrows furrowed. “For you.” he explained further when you made no move to reach for them.

“Why?” you inquired but grabbed the bouquet from him anyway. His posture relaxed & the grip on the cups was more secure.

“May I invite you on a walk through the town?” he suggested shyly. “I brought you coffee. I do hope it is after your liking?” the last part was a question. A sign that he doubted himself the slightest.

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful.” you eased his mind immediately. The cup was placed in your other hand. “Could you wait here for a minute? I should put them in a vase.” he motioned for you to go ahead. Your heart was doing backflips. It all fell into place now. You pieced everything together. He asked for your favorite flowers earlier today because he intended to give them to you. His plan was to spend your lunch break together. Helmut really went out of his way for you. His efforts were mellow. Returning outside once again, he patiently stood in the same spot. The softness of his features were rare on a man like him. You had met people similar to him but he was different. Helmut was that type of many who bought you flowers & made time to spend more with you.

You knew the town by heart. So did Helmut. But exploring the beautiful spots together felt like you were espying every corner, every building, for the very first time. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter was shared, loving glances were exchanged. He gave you a feeling of belonging. Like you were supposed to be right here from the very beginning. It felt right. With a man like him on your side, your life quality would finally improve. Helmut would be the one to quench your cravings. And you would not want it any other way.

Published (05/04/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @takacsgram, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @bibliophilewednesday, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @sebastian-stan-d-on-my-throat, @thewinterrbucky, @loveinthemadness, @princess-yuna (thanks for your support <3)

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softspideys · 3 years

Text

Average (Frat!Tom Holland x reader)

summary: tom holland is the handsome, popular, and charismatic king of your campus. so why has he taken an interest in you?

warnings: none

word count: 3,000

pairings: frat!tom holland x reader

a/n: I personally prefer respectful frat boy tom to jerky frat boy tom. inspired by this glorious photo. I hope you you like it:)

When Tom Holland first spoke to you, your immediate instinct was to assume it was a joke.

You’d just arrived at the party his frat was throwing and immediately made a beeline for the kitchen. You were never totally comfortable in situations like these, but after a couple drinks you tended to be more social and easygoing.

“Hey,” a voice said as you finished pouring yourself some of the suspicious-looking Jungle Juice. You turned around and almost did a double-take.

You knew who Tom was; his roommate Harrison was friends with your roommate Jess, but you’d never spoken to him. He was popular, but there were no rumors about him being a player or an asshole or a creep like there were with some of his frat brothers.

Now he was smiling at you, looking casual in jeans and a black t-shirt, a baseball cap pulled over his curly hair. “Hey,” you answered, once you were positive he was talking to you. There was no one else around you, but still.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um, no thanks,” you said, gesturing to the cup in your hand. “I’m good.” You figured he was just being polite, but then he continued to speak to you.

“You’re Jess’s roommate, right?” he asked.

You nodded, a little surprised. You honestly didn’t even think he was aware you existed. But then it hit you—he must be looking for her and probably recognized you from one of her Instagram photos or something. “Yeah. I don’t know where she is, though. I just got here.”

“Cool,” he said. “I’ve only met her a couple times—she’s friends with my roommate Harrison—but she talked about you a lot. I’m Tom.” He held out his hand.

Slowly, you shook it. “Y/N.” This was weird. If he wasn’t being polite and he wasn’t looking for someone else, then why was he talking to you? You had to get out of there. “Um, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. “See you around, maybe.” You smiled a little instead of answering before practically fleeing the kitchen and joining the party. The rest of the night passed uneventfully and you didn’t see Tom again.

You thought about him briefly afterwards, but decided not to dwell on it. Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he saw you by yourself and took pity on you.

A few days later, Jess ambushed you while you were doing homework in the library. “You talked to Tom Holland at the party on Saturday?” she whispered excitedly.

“Yeah, for like a minute. It was before I found you. Why?”

“Harrison told me he was asking about you. Want me to pass along your number?”

“No!” you said quickly, feeling your face get warm. “Wait. What do you mean, he was asking about me? Asking what?”

“You know, just like . . . what your deal is, and whatever.” She shrugged. “He probably wants to hang out with you.”

“Me? Why?” The thought made your heartbeat quicken.

Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. Why wouldn’t he? You’re a total catch. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

The conversation was making you more and more uncomfortable. Tom was good-looking and popular and probably had tons of people lining up just to “hang out” with him. What was so special about you?

Despite your doubts, you found yourself giving in. “Okay,” you said finally. “I guess you can give him my number.”

Jess smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Awesome. I’ll tell Harrison.” She leaned closer, suddenly serious. “And look, I wouldn’t push this if I didn’t think it was a good idea, okay? You know I got your back. Tom is really nice.”

She had a point. “I know,” you said grudgingly. “We’ll see if he even texts me.”

~ ~ ~

Tom texted you the day after Jess passed your number on.

hey it’s tom, we met at the party on saturday :) i got your number from jess. i was wondering if you wanna hang out sometime?

You spent almost an hour reading it over and over, trying to figure out if there was any hidden meaning in the short message. Finally you wrote back: sure.

You expected him to invite you to another frat party or something similar, but instead he asked if you wanted to grab coffee and do homework. Midterms were coming up, after all.

So you met him at a cafe on campus on a chilly Thursday afternoon. He was there when you arrived, sitting at a table in the back. He looked cozy, all bundled up in a hoodie and sweats. You bought yourself a hot chocolate and sat across from him. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled at you. “How’s it going?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Pretty good.”

You looked around. He’d picked a two-person table, but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t pull up a chair. “Is it just going to be us?”

His smile faded a little. “Uh, yeah. Is that okay? I thought—I mean, you can see if Jess is around or something, but—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, wanting to kick yourself. “No, this is fine. I was just asking. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay.” He relaxed. “I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you would.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “You just didn’t seem very, uh . . . excited.”

You cringed inwardly, clearing your throat. “Oh, sorry. I’m not very good at texting. Ask Jess.” You smiled a little at the thought of your best friend. “She’s always mad at me because I take hours to respond and then it usually just ends up being one word.”

Tom laughed. “Oh man, my brother Sam is the same way. I have to send a message to him in all caps that says SOS EMERGENCY PLEASE ANSWER NOW if I want him to answer within the hour.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah, three actually. There’s me, then the twins Sam and Harry, and then my youngest brother Paddy.”

“Wow,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Your house must’ve been pretty crazy growing up.”

“You could say that.”

Before you got to the cafe, you told yourself that you only had to stay for an hour. One hour, and then you could make up some excuse as to why you had to leave. But as time went on, you realized you were actually enjoying yourself. The conversation flowed naturally, and Tom was a good listener. He didn’t seem to mind when you eventually lapsed into silence to get some studying down, and the two of you worked quietly for a while. He even offered to refill your drink when he went to get another for himself.

“Got any plans for dinner?” he asked finally, breaking the comfortable silence you’d grown used to. You looked out the window and saw it was getting dark out.

At first you thought maybe he was going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat with him. But as quick as the idea occurred, you shot it down. That was silly; he’d already been here with you for a few hours now. Maybe he was meeting other people after this and wanted you to take a hint.

So you lied, “Yeah, I’m meeting Jess at a dining hall. I should probably get going, actually.”

“Oh, right,” he said, glancing down at his homework. “Uh, same here.” You both quickly packed up your stuff and left the cafe, pausing before you officially went your separate ways.

“That was fun,” Tom said. He hesitated, and you braced yourself to hear some excuse as to why he would never talk to you again.

You certainly weren’t expecting him to ask shyly, “Would you want to hang out again?” You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him right. But he just looked at you, waiting for your response, and after a pause you nodded.

“Yeah. I would like that.”

Tom’s answering smile was practically blinding. You couldn’t help but return it. “Awesome,” he said. “Um, I’ll text you?”

“Okay,” you said. “See you later.” He smiled at you for a second longer before he turned and walked away, a happy sort of bounce in his step.

You couldn’t help it; you walked home with a dumb grin on your face.

~ ~ ~

True to his word, Tom texted you a few days later to ask if you wanted to hang out again. This time you accepted readily.

At first, the two of you just got together to have coffee and do homework. Then he somehow managed to figure out part of your schedule and would meet you on your way to class. Even if he had a lecture on the other side of campus, he insisted on walking you all the way to yours.

He started texting you more, sometimes sending you funny videos or memes, but also sharing random thoughts and asking questions. Now you checked your phone frequently, trying to get in the habit of responding quickly or initiating conversation with him first. You followed each other on social media and you noticed he’d liked all of your Instagram photos. Just to be funny, you liked a couple of his too, but then wondered if he would find it weird.

“We’re friends,” you told Jess when she noticed you smiling at your phone. “That’s it.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Are you kidding me?”

“I’m serious,” you said, because you knew what she was insinuating and there was just no way Tom Holland would be into you like that. Sometimes you saw him around campus, always surrounded by a laughing group of friends and admirers. He was like the sun, and you knew you were lucky to even be in his orbit.

“We’re having a party on Friday night,” Tom said to you one afternoon. The weather was nice, so you’d claimed a sunny spot out on the quad to do some homework.

“Cool.” You were more focused on the essay you were writing than the conversation.

“Are you gonna go?” he pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe if Jess goes I’ll come too.”

“Well . . .” He trailed off, and you looked up to see he was fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves. “What if we went together?”

You stared at him. Of all the things you were expecting him to say, it certainly was not that. “Like . . . me and you? Like . . . as your date?”

Tom was blushing now, steadily avoiding your eyes. “Um. Yes?”

Alarm bells were going off in your brain. If Jess were here she’d be throwing a parade, but you knew there had to be a catch. Out of all the people on campus, why was he asking you?

You opened your mouth to say no, but then he finally glanced up at you. His expression was so earnest and hopeful that you found yourself saying, “Sure.”

“Really? You want to?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded. “Yeah, it sounds fun.”

There was that goofy grin again, lighting up his entire face. “Okay,” he said. “Cool.”

You knew you should be excited, but there was a nervous pit in your stomach that just wouldn’t go away. It was still there when you arrived at Tom’s frat house that Friday. You didn’t recognize the brother at the door on security duty, but he took one look and waved you inside, no questions asked.

You were a little confused; you came by yourself last time too and had to say you knew Harrison. But the brother merely said, “Tom put you on the list.”

The boy in question was in the kitchen, talking to a few of his brothers. He noticed you walk in immediately and his eyes lit up. “Hey! You’re here!” To your surprise he gave you a hug, and you tried not to focus on how good his cologne smelled.

“You look nice,” he said when he pulled away. In an attempt to feel more confident, you’d worn your favorite pair of jeans and a cute top, even allowing Jess to do some hair and makeup magic on you.

“Thank you,” you said. “Um, so do you.” He was just in jeans and a purple flannel, a black baseball cap twisted backwards on his head, but he still managed to make it look effortlessly cool.

“Thanks.” He paused. “I’m, uh, really glad you came.”

“Me too,” you said quietly. He smiled at you and the knot in your stomach tightened.

Tom barely left your side the entire night. He introduced you to some of his fraternity brothers, whose names you forgot as soon as they said them. A few of them had brought dates too, and while they were all friendly and welcoming, you couldn’t help but feel frumpy and plain standing next to them.

It didn’t help that there were some not-so-friendly girls coming over too. They gave Tom hugs and kisses on the cheek before eyeing you critically. You could practically see the invisible thought bubble forming over their heads each time they looked at you: why is he here with you? You wanted to tell them that you were wondering the same thing.

The longer you thought about it, the worse you felt. It just didn’t make sense. Tom had practically half the campus falling at his feet; why wasn’t he with someone more talented, better looking, charismatic? Why had he picked you? You were so . . . average.

Maybe it was some kind of prank, some kind of fucked-up tradition in his fraternity: find a shy girl, get her to fall in love with you, and then break her heart. That had to be it. There was no other explanation.

“Are you alright?” Tom asked, tearing you from your thoughts. You realized you hadn’t spoken in several minutes, just staring off into space.

You swallowed. “Could we, um, go somewhere quiet? Please?”

He studied your face for a second before he nodded. “Of course.” He put one hand on your back, gently guiding you out of the crowded room and up the stairs. You followed him down the hallway until he stopped at a door with a sign that said TOM & HARRISON.

Oh. This was his room.

He ushered you in and you noticed he left the door slightly ajar, so you could easily leave if you wanted to. Still, you immediately took a seat at his desk, not wanting to even go near the bed. Tom didn’t seem to mind, falling onto it with a loud thud and a content sigh. Neither of you spoke for a minute. Finally you glanced over at him and saw he was already watching you, a tiny smile on his face.

You couldn’t take it any longer. “Is this, like, a prank or something?”

“What?”

“This. Like,” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “all of this. Is it a joke?”

Tom’s smile vanished. He scrambled to sit up, scooting towards the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about? Why would you even think that?”

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to figure out why someone like you would be doing all of this with someone like me.”

He looked lost. “Doing what?”

“You know . . . hanging out with me, texting me, inviting me here . . .”

He stared at you for a second before he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I mean . . . I like you. I thought that was obvious.”

“But why?” You were frustrated to find you were near tears. “You could have your pick of anyone on this campus. There are so many girls in this house alone right now who are prettier and funnier and more interesting than me. So why . . . why me?”

Tom slowly stood up and came over to where you were sitting, kneeling in front of you. “Because I think you’re pretty and funny and interesting,” he said, looking at you unflinchingly. “None of those other people matter to me. I don’t know why you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re, like . . . not good enough or whatever, but it’s not true.”

You bit your lip as he took your hand. “I’m just . . . not used to this. Usually people tend not to notice me.”

“I did,” he said simply. “And I really, really like you.”

“I really like you too,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tom said gently. “Just trust me, okay? I would never hurt you like that.”

He was being honest. He always had been, but you believed him now. You took a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”

Tom blinked in surprise before he nodded. You leaned in and kissed him softly; his lips were a little chapped and tasted sweet and sort of fruity, like the juice from his drink. His hands came up to carefully cup your jaw, holding you in place. It made your head dizzy and your knees weak; it was perfect.

It was like a dam broke. Suddenly you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t figure out what to do with the happy, fizzy feeling in your stomach. You pulled back a little, pressing kisses to his cheeks and his nose. Tom giggled like the touch made him ticklish and you thought to yourself, You were so silly to deny yourself for so long, to think you didn’t deserve this.

You knew better now. You knew you did.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fandom #tom holland fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland oneshot #writing

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