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lockefanfic · 4 years

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Business Trip: Pt 37 - Rough

“You want me to lie down on my back and spread my legs and let you fuck me until you cum in me like a good little girl, huh?” she continues. There is a wildness, an unconstrained craziness in her eyes.

You want to say something, want to snap back and tell her that you were more than willing and plenty able to do more than just that; but her hand pumping up and down your stiff cock, and the wild look in those eyes, has you incapable of coming up with the right words. Your cock begins to leak pre-cum, and she spreads it over your weeping slit and sensitive head, eliciting a soft moan from your lips that you do your best to stifle.

Seulgi sees this - sees that she has the upper hand - and the devious smile on her lips widens.

Seulgi grabs you by the cock and pulls you towards the bed - something that would have been painful were it not so fucking hot; the promise of sex with such a wild partner was an effective painkiller, it seemed.

Placing both hands flat against your chest, she pushes you down onto the old, small bed. She quickly undoes the button and zipper of her denim shorts, and strips it off her hips. Her short crop top soon follows it to the bedroom floor, and suddenly Kang Seulgi is naked in front of you, her slim, toned body tensed and ready to pounce.

“Too bad I’m not a good little girl,” she hisses, before climbing onto the bed, straddling your head with her thighs, and sitting on your face.

---

“So this is it, huh?”

“This is it,” Kang Seulgi repeats as she takes the first few steps into the apartment, reaching out to the wall to flick the lights on. Most of the furniture in the small, nondescript unit was covered with white sheets, although here and there an odd appliance or decoration was left uncovered to gather a layer of dust. The sheets and dusty atmosphere meant it was unlikely anyone had been there in awhile.

“I’d expected SM staff to be able to afford better housing,” you admit. The apartment was modest at best, being on a middle floor in a lower-middle class neighborhood of Seoul. It was far from being an unlivable place, but it was still a ways removed from the hyper modern, massive apartment buildings that dominated most of Seoul’s hipper, newer neighborhoods.

Momo and her team had picked you up from the JYP offices about an hour before; the other girls were doing some scouting and recon of the premises ahead of Seulgi’s meeting with Irene, which was scheduled for the next day. You’d volunteered to scout out Red Velvet’s old apartment with Seulgi, where the actual meeting was going to happen.

“This was all we could afford when we started out,” Seulgi replies, “when we were just paper pushers at SM. Before Red Velvet was even a thing.”

Seulgi reaches out to the refrigerator, which still had polaroids, takeout menus, and other miscellaneous junk attached onto its front door with magnets and scotch tape. Her eyes, normally cold and aloof, are far away, lost in thought and memories of days gone by. She plays idly with the edges of a series of polaroids - and though you were too far to see the subject of the photos, you knew it had to be the members of Red Velvet in their younger, more carefree days.

“When we started living here we decided as a team that we would each take turns cooking. We didn’t have a lot of money and we figured cooking our own food would save us a few won here and there,” she says with the hint of a smile on her lips, “but it turned out none of us could cook. Joy almost burnt this place down a couple of times. We ended up just taking turns ordering delivery.”

Her fingertips trace the corner of a well-worn delivery menu held to the door with a magnet. She touches the magnet briefly, as though she were reliving a moment that might have happened years ago, when she’d grab the menu off the fridge and ask the girls what they wanted to eat. But reality soon sets in for the suddenly sombre girl, and with heavy steps she leaves the kitchen.

She flicks on another set of lights, revealing the relatively small living room. An old, small flatscreen TV sat on a simple wooden stand against one wall, with a cheap fabric couch opposite it covered in white sheets.

“Only two of us could fit on the couch at once, so the other two had to sit on the floor. We took turns,” she explained, as if reading your mind. There must have been a lot of sharing going on - the apartment might have been cramped for two occupants, let alone four young women.

“Only one tiny little bathroom, too,” she continued. “Man, the fights that we had over who was taking too long in there…”

You are happy to let Seulgi reminisce about better days for a moment. This was the first time you’d spent any length of time alone with her, and you didn’t mind learning more about Red Velvet and how they began.

“Irene would shout at us if we were taking too long,” she continues, her tone wistful, “sometimes she would bang on the bathroom door so loud we’d get complaints from the neighbors.”

You are hesitant to broach the topic of Irene, given the noticeable thawing of Seulgi’s usually icy exterior since you’d arrived at the apartment. You were thankful it was Seulgi who brought her up.

“So the bitchiness started early,” you state.

Seulgi smirks. “At the time, yeah, we thought she was a bit of a bitch. But we couldn’t deny that she was driven, and that she wanted to go places. It was her that had the idea of forming Red Velvet - of working together as a team to make something of ourselves at SM. She was a bitch, but she could be a real leader, too. I suppose her bitchiness is also what made her so successful.”

“So how exactly did you four meet?”

“The four of us started at Red Velvet at the same time - we were recruited right out of university. We met at the SM orientation, and when we learned that we would be working in the same division we decided, hey, we may as well live together.”

Seulgi steps over to a bookcase filled with framed photos, old books, and other keepsakes collected by young people in the prime of their youth. Her hands reach out to graze its simple wooden frame, her eyes drifting from one item to another on its shelves and reliving a memory with each one. She doesn’t touch any of the photos or other things on the shelf, as if she were afraid of what would happen if she did.

“We started off just pushing paper. But one day Irene was promoted to be the executive assistant of some middle management type dude at SM. He was a bit of a perv - always hitting on her and shit, touching her like she was his girlfriend. Anyway, one day he was assigned to go to this convention in Europe and scope out what the competition was doing, and then report back. Irene went with him. Guy was drunk as fuck the whole time, treating it as a company paid vacation.”

Seulgi’s gaze finally settles on a framed picture, and with hands that appeared almost nervous, she reaches out and picks it up off the shelf with a delicacy that you didn’t know she was capable of. Her slim fingers play gently along its frame, as though she were handling some precious, fragile artifact.

“Irene ended doing all the work. And what’s more, she ended up getting some pretty juicy info on a competitor; info we ended up using to… convince them to sell us their tech.”

“So the blackmailing started early, too,” you say under your breath. Seulgi smirks.

“We prefer the term ‘corporate espionage,’” she says with a sly smile on her lips. “Irene was promoted for her work. The dude was demoted to the dungeons of SM where he fucking belonged. Irene took us with her, and soon we were climbing the ladder at SM.”

“Surely you were paid enough to buy nicer digs.”

“Yes,” Seulgi admits, “but we always kept this place. It was like a hideout for us, almost. We got up to some pretty shady stuff in our line of work. But we’d always come back to this place to relax, hang out, and just be girls again. No one knew about this place but us. It felt safe. It kept us grounded. It kept us together.”

“So what happened, then?” you ask, satisfied that now was the time to bring up the YG incident, “what happened on that day, Seulgi?”

Even without asking, the young woman knows what day you mean. She puts the picture back on the shelf and lets out a sigh; you experience a pang of regret as she does so, knowing that you were probably bringing up some bad memories. Seulgi takes a few deep breaths to compose herself.��

When she begins to speak she’s still turned away from you, moving from the bookshelf to stare out the window of the living room, towards the skyline of downtown Seoul in the distance.

“YG was our biggest competitor back in the day, as I’m sure you know. Wendy and Yeri were assigned a few operations to try and get dirt on them. But they never had any luck. Soon enough SM brass decided to give the assignment to Irene. Irene, of course - she didn’t waste any time. Before a month was out she had already established a relationship with YG’s CEO. More than that - she had him wrapped around her finger.”

“Damn,” you say, impressed.

“Anyway, her mission was to get the dirt on YG’s R&D division - they went under the codename Blackpink. She used her relationship with the CEO to dig up everything she could. But the more she found out about Blackpink, the more passionate she became about bringing YG down.”

“What did she find?”

“She wouldn’t tell us,” Seulgi says with a soft shake of her head, “she kept everything to herself at her own insistence. We usually shared everything we knew with each other, but this was different. She said it was because she didn’t want us to be in danger in case YG retaliated. She wanted to give us plausible deniability, I guess. Yeri thinks that by not telling us anything, she was trying to protect us. But I don’t believe that.”

“What do you think it was?” you ask, sitting down on the covered couch.

“I’m not entirely sure. I just know she must have had a reason for not telling us what she found. Either way, one day she came to us and proposed we infiltrate YG HQ. Apparently there was something there that we couldn’t retrieve via hacking. It had to be done the old school way, as I’m sure you’re familiar with,” Seulgi says with a smile, turning her head slightly in your direction.

“A little too familiar,” you answer, knowing she was referring to the near disaster of Nayeon’s infiltration of SM.

“So we went and got pretty deep into YG HQ. We expected that we’d be doing some hacking into a secure mainframe or server and retrieving some confidential company data. Instead what we did was break four girls out of a goddamn dungeon.”

“What?”

“It turns out the whole thing was a rescue mission. The Blackpink girls were the target. No one knew this except Irene, of course, so you can imagine that when she told us we had to get these four girls to safety, we kind of freaked out. Wendy - she was Irene’s second, back in the day - she almost wanted to walk out on the whole thing and take the other two of us with her. But Irene convinced us that we had to get out with the girls - so we did. She was our leader. We trusted she was doing the right thing.”

“Except you didn’t all get out,” you say, realizing even as you said the words that you could have been more considerate with your choice of words.

“No, we didn’t,” Seulgi says, her voice dropping slightly. The girl takes a few deep breaths to compose herself, her hands bracing her weight against the windowsill. She had always seemed so tough and confident, but to see her vulnerability now made you feel bad for even bringing up the subject. Her very posture had changed; she was usually so proud and haughty, and now she seemed small and defenseless.

“You saw the tapes. You know what happened. YG captured Yeri and I on the way out. Irene took the girls and ran. Yeri and I… YG fucked us up.”

“Seulgi…” you say, not quite knowing how to best comfort her.

“Whatever. That doesn’t matter now. A few months later Yeri and I escaped that hellhole. And now all I want to know is why I had to go through that. I want to know why Irene left us there to die. And I’m going to ask her that tomorrow.”

A few seconds pass in silence as you digest Seulgi’s story. You’d known that Irene had left her and Yeri behind during the YG incident, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Learning the history of Red Velvet right from the source had given you some much needed context.

“I’m sorry, Seulgi. It must have been terrible.”

Seulgi lets out a dark chuckle, as though she’d just heard a joke.

“Terrible is a vast understatement,” she says, “it was the worst few months of my life. But what they did to us physically - it didn’t matter. I healed. It was the betrayal that hurt the most. The relationship we’d built here, in this very room - to have it thrown away like that; that’s what really hurt me.”

Seconds pass in silence.

“It’s one thing to have your boss betray you,” Seulgi says with a wavering voice, “it’s another thing to have someone you’re in love with do the same.”

You are surprised somewhat at Seulgi’s confession. You’d known she’d had some sort of physical relationship with Yeri, and that their shared experience at YG had likely made them close, but you’d had no idea she’d had any sort of feelings towards Irene.

“What, you’re surprised?” Seulgi asks, a mocking tone in her voice and a sly smile on her lips as she finally turns around to face you. Her soft, sad eyes belay the cold, detached persona she was trying to return to. “Are you really surprised though, considering what Yeri and I did in front of you at the coffee shop last week?”

“No, that doesn’t surprise me. I just had no idea you and Irene-”

“Whatever, it’s in the past,” Seulgi snaps, “It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters now is bringing her down. Who I fuck takes a backseat to that.”

“I suppose,” you say with a nod.

“Anyway, the bedroom’s that way. Come on then,” she says, stepping away from the windowsill to take you by the wrist and drag you towards a closed door.

“Uh, what?” you stammer as you are dragged from your seat.

“All this talk of the past has me all sad and shit, and I need a pick me up. Besides, you owe me one from the coffee shop. Oh, and you should know - this is going to be rough. I hope you’re not a pussy.”

---

Seulgi was right - it was rough.

From the moment she dragged you into the bedroom it was a bit like being caught up in a storm; one that pushed you around, one that hit you, one that caused you occasional pain. But instead of giving into her anger you found yourself wanting to fight back - wanting to show here you weren’t going to be pushed around. This was a wild animal you wanted to tame, a storm you wanted to weather.

As you cross the doorframe of the bedroom Seulgi grabs you by the collar of your shirt and quite literally shoves you up against the bedroom wall, rattling the walls and causing a few of the items on the nearby cabinet to fall over. Before you have a chance to react she is on you like a cat, quickly crushing your lips with her own before her tongue quickly invades your mouth. She tastes like mint - sweet, but with an underlying sharpness.

As you make out her hands find your collar again and she tears it open - sending buttons flying to the floor with small clinks. She tears her lips from yours momentarily as she forcefully undresses you. There is a hunger in her eyes as she takes in your newly exposed chest, like a predator salivating at the prospect of delicious prey.

Her lips return to yours in a torrid kiss; her hands quickly strip the torn shirt from your torso, and you are happy to help her remove it from your arms. You aren’t one to let her just get away with something like that, though; you want to fight back, want to show her that this wasn’t just a one way street - and so you grasp the light pink jacket she is wearing and pull it down her shoulders, leaving her in a short crop top and denim shorts..

As soon as Seulgi divests herself of the jacket she slaps you - across the cheek. You’d been slapped before, of course, even a couple of times during sex - but never that hard. It stung. She wasn’t holding back.

“Every piece of clothing you take off me gets a fucking slap,” she hisses. There is a wildness in her eyes that both scared you and intrigued you.

“Then I guess I owe you a slap for my fucking shirt,” you snap.

“Then do it! Fucking slap me. I want you to. I want it to hurt.”

“...I’m not gonna fucking slap you, Seulgi.”

“Because you’re a fucking pussy? I fucking knew it. I fucking knew you were a-”

She is silenced mid sentence by your open palm; even before you realized what you were doing, you’d hit her across the face. You are momentarily frozen by your own actions - you’d never hit a girl’s face before - but the crazy glint in Seulgi’s eyes, and the wild smile on those lips, meant that your slap not only didn’t piss her off - it turned her on.

Her hands reach for your jeans, fingers working quickly, almost frenzied in her desire to undress you. As soon as she undoes your belt she pulls them down, hooking her thumbs in your boxers and dragging them down along with your pants, leaving you naked. She takes a moment to admire your newly stiff cock as it springs free from its cotton prison.

“I see now why you have all those fuck toys in your office,” Seulgi says, licking her lips as though she were about to dive into a delicious looking meal, “and why Momo is always so fucking wet around you.”

“Maybe you should find out first hand,” you snap back.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Seulgi hisses, reaching down and grasping your stiff shaft. The skin of her fingers and palm are soft and warm, but her movements are rough and frenzied as she begins to stroke you up and down - you let a soft sigh escape your lips at the first spikes of pleasure, although you do your best to keep from doing any more than that. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Seulgi sees this - sees that she has the upper hand - and the devious smile on her lips widens.

“Too bad I’m not a good little girl,” she hisses, before climbing onto the bed, straddling your head with her thighs, and sitting on your face.

It must have been only a few minutes since she’d pulled you into the bedroom, and already she was almost too much to handle. With the other girls there was at least some preamble, a healthy amount of foreplay, or both; with Seulgi there was none of that. A quick, torrid kiss, a stripping of clothing, and now your face was between her legs.

Your determination to fight back returns, having been lent strength by the fact that she no longer literally had your cock in her hands. And so you quickly dive into Seulgi’s slick, juicy pussy, darting out your tongue and giving her a slow, hard lick from the bottom of her opening to the top, delighting in the taste of her wet flesh. Seulgi quivers at this first lick, although she quickly settles down - evidently she was fighting the same battle you were, neither of you willing to show the other that they had the upper hand.

Her right hand reaches down to your scalp, her fingers digging into your skull.

“Stop fucking around and eat my pussy,” she orders, her tone sharp, although you notice, to your satisfaction, that her eyes have softened due to the pleasure of that first, quick taste.

You smile to yourself as you dive back in, your tongue darting out and giving her another broad lick, this time swirling your tip around the top of her opening, searching for and quickly finding the stiff little bud that is at the centre of her pleasure. Seulgi quivers slightly at this first contact between your tongue and her clit.

You are determined to not give her what she wanted - and it was clear what she wanted was a quick orgasm. So instead of returning to her aching clit you dive deep into her opening, pressing your face against her hot heat, penetrating her as much as you could with your tongue. You drink in Seulgi’s slick juices as they flow freely into your mouth, delighting in her bittersweet taste as you eat the writhing young girl riding your face. The moans that leave Seulgi’s pursed lips become a little louder with each dive into her depths, and the quivering of her soft thighs around your face become a little stronger as the young woman slowly, gradually loses control.

For a few delicious seconds you tongue fuck her, thrusting your tongue in and out of her opening, swirling your tip around with each entry and exit, savoring the taste of her body like some delicious meal. Her fingers dig deeper into your scalp as she continues to grind her crotch against your face, the pain in your skull and the delicious taste of her pussy mixing into a heady cocktail that quickly intoxicates you.

“Fucking… fucking make me cum.. Oh! Make me cum already,” she hisses.

You are unable to answer her with words, your mouth filled with her pussy as it was, and so you answer with action. You bring your hands up, cupping and squeezing her toned, round ass from behind, pressing her crotch closer and deeper against your face. Giving her pussy one more lick and driving your tongue as deep inside her as it could go one last time, you finally move upwards to her needy clit.

Seulgi’s reaction is instant, having been driven to the edge by the tongue fucking you were giving her. When you capture her bud between your lips and swirl the tip of your tongue around it she cums almost immediately, her body going rigid for a split second before becoming a pile of jelly, the pleasure taking the young woman by surprise as her body succumbs. Her mouth is frozen in an open “o” for a few seconds as the first wave of her orgasm crashes against her, but soon she lets a long, drawn out moan escape her lips as she rides it out, enjoying every crest of pleasure that hits her.

She is gyrating her hips as she cums, grinding her wet, drenched, hot crotch against your face for a few beautiful seconds. It’s almost difficult to breathe, your mouth or your nose or both covered in her wet, hot flesh. You are clutching her ass in an attempt to hold her down, doing your best to lap up the plentiful juices leaving her slick opening, drinking up Seulgi like she were a fountain and you hadn’t drunk in days.

When Seulgi finally comes down from her high and releases your head from between her wet thighs, you are almost upset when her pussy leaves your face. You lick your lips, gathering her juices from the mess she’d made on your mouth and chin.

When you lock eyes again her face is wild - flushed with her orgasm, but still undiminished in that intimidating craziness that had taken her over.

She slides her body down, dipping her head and kissing you roughly, tasting herself on your tongue as your mouths lock in frenzied battle once more. To Seulgi, kissing was not a show or display of affection - it was a battle, a display of dominance.

“Not fucking bad,” she admits when she finally breaks the kiss, “now let’s see how you fuck.”

You were surprised at her lack of foreplay, lack of build up before she forced you to eat her out - but you were still expecting some sort of lead up to actual sex. But you should have known better by now, should have known that Seulgi wasn’t that type of girl.

In the space of a couple of seconds, Seulgi moves her body down until she is straddling your waist, and after reaching down to point your aching tip at her slick, dripping pussy, she takes you inside her and begins to ride you.

No build up, no slow gradual rise in pace or tempo - soon she is riding you hard, as though she were atop some bucking wild horse in some sort of race to a finish line only she could see. Her pussy is tight and wet and slick and hot and every possible adjective you could possibly use to describe the pleasurable feeling of her body - and it took you all at once, the sensations hitting you all at the same time, like a tsunami hitting the unprepared coastline of your brain.

It is all you could do to hold on to her bucking hips as she throws herself again and again into your cock, taking you in and out of her body at a pace that held no regard for your pleasure or even your comfort - all she wanted was to get off, and you were the tool she was going to use to get to her destination.

“Mmmm…. Argh! Fuck! Fuck, yes… Mmm... !!”

Even the sounds she made were different; aside from the odd pleasurable moan or hissed profanity, she sounded like she were searching for something, or working away at a project. The other girls sat back and let themselves come across the pleasure they were searching for; for Seulgi it was as though she were actively searching for it, looking for it amidst the sensations and pleasures emanating from between your bodies.

It took you longer than you cared to admit, but eventually you are able to at least get used to the torrid pace Seulgi has set as she rides you roughly on the creaking, protesting bed. She clutches the headboard above you, and as she does so it finally gives you a good look at her slim, svelte form, all tight muscle and lean limbs, her abs tight and sculpted, her small breasts tipped with delicious looking nipples stiff with pleasure.

Above it all, though, was that face of hers - surely capable of much beauty and grace, but now twisted in wild abandon, the craziness of her need and lust twisting those perfect features into a mask that was equal parts intoxicating and intimidating. Hey eyes, even half-lidded in pleasure, are still bright and wild, fixed on you even as the rest of her body bounces up and down.

Rather mercifully, it is her that ends up approaching orgasm first; lucky for you, because you’d have hated to see what could happen if she were disappointed by sex. The gradual tightening and pulsating of her already tight, slick tunnel tells you she was quickly reaching her peak.

Seulgi ups her pace, impaling herself again and again on your cock as though she were nearing the finish line to a race and wanted to finish strong. The determined look on her face begins to crack, as the pleasure of your stiff cock pumping in and out of her finally overwhelms her senses.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna fucking… fucking cum… fuck!”

She cums like you expected her to, like she did minutes before on your tongue - like a violent storm breaking upon a shore. Her body goes rigid, her fingernails dig into the wooden headboard, and her thighs clench around your waist as the pleasure overtakes her senses. Her pussy pulsates and quivers around your cock as she buries it as deep inside her as it could go. It is all you could do to hold on to her tight, shaking body as she rides out her pleasure for long, beautiful seconds.

When she comes down from her peak she is still slowly grinding herself against your crotch, your cock fully embedded inside her body, as though she is chasing the last vestiges of pleasure before she comes down to earth. Breathing heavily, skin flushed, she finally gives you her appraisal of your performance.

Her appraisal is a slap across your face. When you recover enough to look back at her, your cheek stinging with sharp pain, the wild look in her eyes both scares you and turns you on.

“You think I have to thank you for making me cum, when all you did was lie there? The only credit you get is for not cumming in five seconds like a fucking virgin.”

You are a little stunned by Seulgi, and more than a little unsure about how to react. You’d never been with a woman so wild, so crazy in bed before - only Chaeyoung came close, and even then it was more playful than angry. Seulgi was a storm, a tornado that came in, tore down your house, and didn’t care what you thought of it.

You want to reach up and choke her. You want to turn her around and pull on her hair hard as you drill her tight little body from behind. This part of you wants to fight her - wants to show her you were just as capable of dominating her as she was of you - but another, darker part of you wants to let her have her way. Because deep down, it kind of turned you on.

“I suppose you can cum too, then, I guess,” Seulgi says, as nonchalantly as she could, given the circumstances - as though she weren’t naked, fully impaled on a man’s cock.

“Where do you want to cum, you little bitch?” she asks, with a look that you would have thought was threatening if it weren’t so fucking hot.

“I want-”

Another slap, this time to your other cheek. This one stung more than the other. The gradual increase of pain in her slaps would have concerned you if they weren’t so fucking hot at the same time. You should have known better. You’d think you’d have learned.

“I decide where you cum,” she states, a little edge in her tone. She says the words matter-of-factly, as though she were to brook no complaint or argument, would accept no alternative. A storm, after all, cared little for the complaints of those in its path.

She slides off your cock - and you lament the loss of her tight wet heat wrapped around your cock as it slips out of her, shiny and glistening with her juices. Before you know it Seulgi is curled up into a ball between your legs, and soon she is taking you in and out of her mouth.

Again - no build up. No preamble, no teasing or foreplay. Only the replacement of one hot, wet orifice with another. Only the wet, hot cavern of Seulgi’s mouth, those lips wrapped tightly around your shaft, her tongue swirling around your sensitive head each time she reached the apex. You should have been ready. You should have known by now. But again, the tsunami that was Kang Seulgi’s body finds a coastline unprepared.

She is rough, lacking in the patience and technique of someone like Sana or Seolhyun; but Seulgi more than makes up for it with sheer determination, as though she were using anger and hate to fuel her work between your legs. And you were in no position to complain, not when her hot little mouth was already bringing you close to cumming after only a few seconds of work.

She must have felt you nearing your peak - because you were certainly in no position to tell her so, given the near paralysis you felt as she worked fiercely on your cock. Just moments before you finally cum Seulgi lets your cock pop out of her mouth.

Your orgasm overwhelms your senses, but you force your eyes open to watch as thick, glistening cum erupts from your tip to land on Seulgi’s face, on her cheeks and nose, painting her soft features with white semen. You continue to cum more than you think you were going to, as though your body were responding to Seulgi’s abuse by painting her face with as much thick, hot white seed as it could. The look of utter lust on Seulgi’s needy features is breathtaking - mouth open and tongue out, she looked as though each rope of thick cum that landed on her face brought her to a new level of perverse pleasure.

After letting the first few streams of cum land onto her wanton face Seulgi slips your spasming cock back inside her mouth, and the feel of her tongue on your sensitive shaft, mid-orgasm, is almost too much to handle. Your hands grip the sides of her skull in a grip that is almost too tight for the girl; but she bears it, accepting the last few streams of cum into her needy mouth to splash against the back of her throat.

Your hands keep her there - you had involuntarily buried your cock into her mouth with a thrust of your hips and the grip on her head, it seemed. Not that Seulgi seemed to mind, if the swirling of her tongue around the sensitive underside of your pulsating cock was any indication.

An indeterminate amount of time later, when you finally release her head from your grasp, Seulgi lets your now half-softened cock slip out between her pink lips - along with a thick stream of fresh semen. She is almost embarrassed by it, and she quickly darts out her tongue to collect it all, as though it were some expensive drink that she didn’t want to waste a drop of. You watch as her throat works, gulping the thick ropes of cum down into her body.

You are barely cognizant enough to watch as she sets to work cleaning your cock, using her hand to keep it straight as she licks your combined juices from your tired, weary shaft and balls.

All the while she does so with your warm cum still dripping down her face, a wicked smile on her lips, and those crazy eyes locked on yours.

---

It’s half an hour later when Momo and Yeri arrive in the apartment, thankfully enough time for you and the former member of Red Velvet to get yourselves dressed up again and at least somewhat presentable, even if you had to deal with a shirt that had its buttons torn off. The sight of your torn shirt was an obvious giveaway to Yeri and Momo; Yeri reacts with a sly smile, as though she’d expected it to happen, although the dark look of barely hidden disappointment in Momo’s eyes stings you a little.

“Our work downstairs is done,” Momo states, seeking to change the subject as the four of you stand in the living room, “We set up cameras at all the entrances and in the parking lot. Seulgi will be wearing a camera and a wire to capture her meeting with Irene here in this room.”

“And I’ll be in the bedroom with a recording device of our own,” you state. You knew you had to have your own copy of the recording; not only to ensure redundancy in case of equipment failure, but also as a backup plan in case Irene tried something unexpected. “Jihyo and Nayeon will be with me, ready to arrest Irene once the time is right and we’re sure she won’t try anything.”

“Fair enough,” Momo admits, “Now if you two are done with your… work, we can leave.” She gives you another sharp look, then turns and leaves the apartment. Yeri follows, but only after giving the apartment one last quick glance; unlike Seulgi, she seemed to have no desire to relive days gone by.

“Seulgi,” you say, stopping the girl as she makes to follow Momo and Yeri out.

“I need to know you won’t do anything stupid tomorrow,” you continue, as straightforwardly as you could.

“Stupid? Like what?” the girl asks, crossing her arms and facing you.

“Like kidnapping Irene. Or worse. Jihyo and Nayeon will be here to arrest her. All you need to do is get her inside the apartment. That’s all. I know you want to get back at her for what she did to you, but she’ll be prosecuted for all her crimes, I promise you. We’re going to do this the right way. We’re not going to hurt her.”

Seulgi smirks, as though she were offended by your insinuation.

“What makes you think I want to do that?”

“She betrayed you and Yeri. Left you behind to be captured by YG. You said you wanted to ask her why. That’s fine - but I need to know that you won’t do anything stupid, especially if her answer isn’t what you want to hear.”

“I just want to ask her why she left us there. One way or another, I’m going to get my answer.”

Seulgi turns away and begins to walk out of the apartment.

“Remember what I told you last week - don’t get in my way,” she states, each word cold as ice, as she steps out of the apartment to leave you alone with your thoughts.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #red velvet seulgi #kang seulgi #male reader #Smut #pov smut #red velvet

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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years

Text

Knitting You a Home - 4

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2,853

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: None.

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

Grandma was perched on the chair at the register with her knitting, the needles lightly clicking against each other as she moved the yarn forwards and backwards all without looking at her work. It was a skill she acquired from years of practice.

Instead, she watched as you buzzed around the store, arranging and then rearranging displays even though each attempt didn’t look different from the last. It had been amusing within the first ten minutes, but after watching you do this all around the store, she knew something was off, whether or not you wanted to admit it.

“Honey,” Grandma called out, hands still moving as she raised an eyebrow at you. “Did you put something in your breakfast this morning that I should know about? Perhaps you thought it was sugar that you put in your coffee, but it really wasn’t?”

Usually a comment like that would have made you pause and laugh, but you didn’t. Instead, you licked your lip as you glanced at her for a few seconds before adjusting the decorative jade scarf on display.

“I had cereal for breakfast Grandma,” you softly answered, nose scrunching at how the scarf was now set.

The store itself was quiet with the lack of shoppers allowing the conversation to easily pass between you and your Grandmother with ease to keep it from silent. When you didn’t even hear the clicking of her knitting needles, you felt unnerved in the silence.

Turning around, you were surprised to see her arms crossed over her chest, the purple beads attached to her glasses glimmering as she propped them on the top of her head. It had been years since she had looked at you like this; an instant reminder of the days in high school when you attempted to be rebellious.

“What is going on? You’ve managed to do a week’s worth of work in the four hours that we’ve been open.”

You shrugged, looking away and at the scarf. It had been one of Grandmother’s creations. Ideally, it was meant to be worn at events rather than for warmth. “I fell asleep early last night. That’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie. After weeks of waiting up for Namjoon to come home, you finally couldn’t find the strength to stay up, crashing at eleven. You weren’t entirely sure when he came home last night, but when the alarm went off at seven thirty, he was already gone. Unlike you where you needed to be at the store for nine, he had to be at the studio for eight. But like every morning the coffee maker was already set and your favorite mug was waiting, prepared for you by Namjoon himself. All you had to do was press the button to start it.

Grandma shook her head though. Standing up, she walked around the counter and once she was in front of you, pressed her cool hand against your forehead.

The gesture made you smile. “I’m not sick Grandma.”

“I think I’ll decide that,” she teased, gently bopping a finger against the tip of your nose like she had when you were a child. “You may not be sick, but you’re bottling something up for sure.”

She always knew when you were dealing with an issue. As a child, you thought she was able to use magic to sense these types of things, and even though you were now an adult, you still liked to believe that she was magical. Especially when it worked in her favor.

“It’s nothing serious,” you half admitted, smiling up at her. “Namjoon’s just been pulling a lot of hours at the studio, so he’s there more than he’s at home.”

Raising an eyebrow, she ran her fingers through your hair. “He should tell his boss that his wife needs him at home.”

With a giggle, you stepped back once she removed her hand and went back to the scarf display. This time determined to drape it in a way that was pleasing to the eye. “His wife, doesn’t want to interfere with her husband’s career.”

“Please, the two of you are young and in your first year of marriage. He should be with you, in a certain room, in that cozy house of yours that has a few empty bedrooms.” Grandma sent a knowing grin to you, chuckling as you simply shook your head.

“Almost a year,” you corrected. “We’ve known each for a year, but he gave me the Mate Mark in November.”

Grandma hummed, making her way over to a wicker basket that held knitted rabbits dressed in thin sweaters and dresses. They were a hit with young children, perfect as baby shower gifts, and you absolutely loved to make them.

“Which proves my point even more. You’ve been married a little less than a year, and you’re both working like an old married couple.” Holding a bunny, she waved the rabbit’s arm at you. “As your Grandmother and your business partner, I’m telling you that you need a vacation. Go home, take a few days off and sleep in. I can run the shop on my own.”

“Grandma, I’m fi-”

“Yes, you’re fine,” Grandma interrupt. “You’re saying it but I’m not believing it one bit.”

A part of you wanted to argue for a little bit longer, expect all that came out was a sigh of frustration. You were more than capable of working for the rest of the day, but standing by the mannequin, Grandma was right. It was time to recharge yourself, and if you were going to figure out why Namjoon was acting so strange, it would help if you weren’t at the shop all day long. Glancing at the calendar, you realized that it was only Tuesday. How were you already so done with the week when it only just began?

“Alright,” you agreed, setting done the scarf once and for all to head towards the office. “I’ll go home, take that vacation.”

Her excited cheers were ignored as you went to gather your belongings, smiling nonetheless. As much as you teased her, you did love her dearly and were grateful to have Grandmother in your life.

Grabbing your purse, you gave her one last hug and reminded her that you’d be back on Monday before leaving the shop, the little bell jingling in your wake. The car was parked in the back-parking lot, but instead of guiding you there, your feet took you to the right, walking the short distance to another shop that was six doors down from yours.

The air conditioning hit like a wave washing off the summer heat as you entered the bookstore. From nowhere in particular soft music danced around the shop. It had been a while since you last saw Sarah and after everything, you were curious as to how she was doing considering that Hoseok was leaving at the end of the month.

“Be right there,” Sarah called out, her voice coming from a corner of the store that you couldn’t quite see.

“Or I can come to you?” You suggested, releasing the smile when she called out your name in glee.

Following the sound of her voice and books thumping on the floor, you weren’t surprised to see Sarah sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a bookcase. “Well I’m happy to see you like this instead of the last time I saw you.”

Sarah laughed, leaning over to hug you once you sat down next to her. “Believe me, I am too. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the shop.”

“Grandma insisted I needed a vacation.” You carefully leaned against a bookcase as Sarah continued to stack the shelf.

“Well I mean, you do,” Sarah agreed, glancing in your direction. “Besides that, how’ve you been? I’ve been meaning to text you but ever since Hoseok signed the contract, we’ve been running around trying to figure out what he needs before leaving for Seoul.”

You shrugged, spotting a romance novel with a crown on the cover. “I’m alright. Just…has Namjoon been in lately?”

Her hand paused its task at the mention of his name, this time turning to face you completely. Like your shop had been, the bookstore was currently free of customers. While that tended to be a worry, it was only noon and typical during the week. The weekend was when business really went to town.

“Actually, now that I think about it, he hasn’t been in these last few weeks. I think the last time I saw him was before the Dance Studio’s May show. Why, is something wrong?”

Licking your lips, you turned the book over, grazing the description with your fingertips. It wasn’t unlike Namjoon to skip out on his trips to the bookstore. It had been the first place he went to on his own when he first came to live with you and it was a habit he kept, always excited to tell you about the new sonnets and books he got that day.

It was strange for him to not be coming to the bookstore.

You knew when this all started, and you didn’t think Sarah wanted to be reminded of that so soon. “He’s just been working longer hours,” you said again, faking a smile when she raised an eyebrow. Guilt swirled in your heart from keeping the truth from her, but the last thing you wanted was to have her relive what Sue put her through. Even if it was just by remembering.

Luckily, Sarah nodded after a few moments. Whether or not she believed you, she didn’t mention it. “Oh well he’s probably just tired then. I know I tend to forget things when I’m not running on enough sleep.”

You chuckled in agreement, handing her back the book you had been looking at. “Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell as Sarah began to re-stack the shelf again. You took the chance to look at her, noticing the differences since the last time you saw her. Namjoon had explained that Hybrids were able to sense everyone’s emotions and that depending on how severe they were, another person’s emotions could affect theirs as well.

When you had gotten the call from Sarah, her voice breaking over the line as she sobbed into the phone, scaring both you and Namjoon – who had been standing nearby and heard it all clear as day – while you hurried to gather your things to go see her. Before even reaching the car, you knew it was bad. She hadn’t even locked her door so when you arrived at her apartment that day, you had walked right in and found her curled up in bed, cheeks blotchy as she cried into her pillow.

It never crossed your mind that by telling Sue about what Colin had been doing would result in the choices that had been made. Guilt had been an unwelcomed guest in your heart and mind during Sarah and Hoseok’s separation. Despite all your attempts to reign in your emotions at home that night, Namjoon had picked up on them so much that as soon as he came home, he was right there by your side, hugging and sweetly kissing you and your Mate Mark, reassuring you that was never going to happen between the two of you.

Despite his promises, it already felt like there was a rift between you and him.

“How are you and Hoseok?” You asked.

Sarah smiled as she ran a hand through her hair, revealing the side of her neck where her own Mate Mark was. To any onlooker – and with some distance – every Mate Mark looked like an identical scar from a bite. Someone who you never met could have one that look just like yours, but upon closer inspection, it was easy to tell that no two were alike. How could they be identical? Namjoon’s jaw and teeth were different from Hoseok’s. It was the finer details; the grooves and ridges were their own individual shape.

“Amazing,” Sarah breathed out. “It’s just so good to have him back home. He finally got the rest of his belongings from Sue since she’s planning on moving, but it finally feels like everything is going right for us.”

It appeared that way too. There was a life in Sarah’s eyes that when you had gone to check on her with Hoseok gone, had been burnt out. You were scared that she was going to fall into a depressive state without him, but it was a miracle that she managed to fight against it and try to live her life, even when her Mate had been taken away.

A part of you wanted to believe that, if for some reason you lost Namjoon, you’d be able to continue living. Deep down however, you knew how easy it would be slip under the covers and not care, and not know that the days were blending together.

It did surprise you how easily she had mentioned Sue though. “Have you heard much from her?”

The smile on her face flickered, and you thought that maybe you had made a mistake.

“No. Actually, Hoseok’s been the one to talk to her when it came to scheduling a time to go over and pack his stuff.” Her fingers tightened around a hardcover and somewhere in the store, the clock chimed at the half hour. “I’m trying, but…it’s going to be a long time.”

Reaching over, you gently squeezed her shoulder as her words died out, not needing an explanation for how she felt. You knew what she meant and if you were being honest, if someone had done the same to you and Namjoon, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forgive them.

It was as she was taking a deep breath that Sarah tapped the book and snapped her finger at you, drawing a grin out of you. “Since you’re on vacation, you can give these to Namjoon to look at.”

She hurried to the desk, leaving you to take your time as you stood up, lower back popping as you joined her. By the time you leaned on the wooden desk, Sarah had a stack of six hardcovers waiting for you. The pages were yellowed and upon opening the top one, the musty smell of an aged book greeted you. While you loved to read as well, you didn’t get overly excited over the famous book smell that you knew Namjoon and Sarah died for.

“I found them at this flea market Hoseok and I went to,” Sarah explained, opening up another one. The text was small and centered, and as you took a closer look, you realized that they were books of poetry.

“How much for them?” You asked, turning your purse to pull out your wallet.

Sarah waved her fingers though, lightly slapping your hand when you still tried to take it out. “Don’t worry about it. They’re a gift.”

“Are you sure?”

“If you do not accept these on Namjoon’s half, I will pick up the phone and call your Grandmother right now Missy,” Sarah playfully threatened, her smile about ready to break her face in half.

For a moment, there was silence in the little shop, but it didn’t last long as you both broke out in laughter. Even as you agreed and she bagged them up for you, you slipped a few dollars in the little donation jar that her boss insisted be put out.

“Now, why don’t you head home,” Sarah suggested, walking around the desk, and hugged you. “Steal a nap before Namjoon comes home tonight.”

“He’s probably going to be working until midnight again,” you said, accepting the bag.

But Sarah smirked at you, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that sent you into a fit of giggles. “Not unless you call him and tell him that you need him.”

“You are just as bad as my Grandmother,” you teased, walking towards the door.

Sarah just laughed as you headed outside, shaking your head in amusement. You knew that they meant well, but it was starting to worry you that everyone seemed to be concerned about your sex life with Namjoon, or apparently, the lack of one.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t have one – Namjoon had his heats like every other Hybrid – with everything that’s been going on, there just hadn’t been time to relax and get in the mood. You knew that Sarah was still relatively newly mated to Hoseok, so it wouldn’t surprise you if they were going at it whenever the desire struck.

But as you got into the car, the books for Namjoon carefully sitting on the passenger seat, you weren’t able to stop thinking about it. It felt like forever since Namjoon indicated that he wanted more than a few kisses or a few minutes of cuddling.

Again, despite knowing his love for you, your mind wandered to the other place, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual. He hadn’t always had to stay so late, so why had things changed so suddenly?

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x1musings · 4 years

Text

“just this once, please stay with me.”+ “do you ever think about me?”

☆pairing: hangyul x reader

☆request: #73 + #85 from 101 prompts by anon

☆genre: angst + fluff??

☆word count: 2.7k

☆a/n: anon, you didn’t give a genre or au in your request, so i just went with mix of angst and fluff. it turns out that i’m better at writing angst than pure fluff, who knew? but i’m not sure how i feel about this piece. also, this is the longest one i’ve written yet, so i hope you guys enjoy! let me know your thoughts :)

☆song recs: empty space by james arthur + about you by tyron hapi feat. laurell

you knew it was a bad idea to go to the party your ex-boyfriend was hosting, but part of you wanted to see him, to see whether he has gotten over you. it had been over a year since you two had broken up and while you had told your friends that you were completely over him, you couldn’t help but miss him. you missed the little things in your relationship; the way he would hug you tightly when you were tired or upset, the way his face would light up with the brightest smile whenever he saw you, and the way you two could talk for hours about anything and everything. you missed having him in your life; whether you wanted him back as your boyfriend or your best friend, you didn’t know.

as you stood outside the door to his apartment, a rush of memories overwhelmed your mind. you remembered when he first moved into the apartment. it was when you two were just friends, and hangyul was bursting with the excitement of living alone for the first time in his life. you two had just graduated from high school and were about to start university, the world at your feet. you remembered how he stood next to the door, telling you to brace yourself for the “awesomeness” you were about to see. he had been standing there with his chest puffed out and his hands on his hips like he was some kind of superhero, so you couldn’t help but laugh at his child-like expression, which led him to tickling you as your punishment for laughing at him.

“y/n, you ok?” your friend asked, shaking you out of your reverie.

you pushed the brightest smile you could muster to your lips, “yeah, i’m fine. just preparing myself for the chaos inside.”

your friend laughed. “tell me about it. i think i’ve already heard something break in there.”

you laughed along with your friends, hoping they didn’t notice the inner turmoil going on in your mind. for the first time that night, you were regretting your choice to come to the party. you hadn’t even stepped inside, and you were already reliving all of the memories you two had created. you could only imagine what it would be like stepping into his apartment for the first time since your breakup, let alone seeing him.

your friend rang the doorbell, and as you waited for the door to open, you had to curb your urge to either run away or puke. suddenly, your mind was filled with all the worst-case scenarios that could happen if you walked through that door. what if he has moved on, and you have to watch him be with his new partner all night? or what if he still hates you, and throws you out? or, what if… before you could think of other ways the night could go wrong, the door swings open to reveal his best friend, seungyoun.

“finally, you guys made it! i was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” seungyoun said, as he gave each of you a hug. when he got to you, his smile widened. “i’m glad you came. it’s been weird not having you around. we’ve all missed you.”

you gave him a small smile, before hugging him. you had been close with all of hangyul’s friends before you broke up, and after it all went down, it was hard for you to see them without feeling the pain of your break-up all over again. so, you avoided them, going out of your way to make sure you didn’t bump into them, which even meant giving up your favourite coffeeshop that they all frequented.

“i missed you guys too,” you whispered as you pulled away. you pause before asking the question that has been on your mind since seungyoun first invited you and your friends to the party. “does he know you invited me?”

with the way seungyoun squirmed, you knew he didn’t. “i mentioned it,” seungyoun said, looking anywhere but you. “but i don’t know whether he actually heard me.”

you knew it was a bad idea to stay, but seungyoun pulled you further inside the apartment before you could make your escape. “it’s fine, y/n. if he makes a big deal, just say that i forced you to come, which isn’t a lie. i did force you to come.” he gave you an encouraging smile before walking away, leaving you to your thoughts.

the living room of his apartment hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw it. it was still a classic bachelor pad, the walls and worn-out furniture were all dark tones of black and brown, with posters and action figures placed around as decoration. but the closer you looked, the more the changes became apparent. all the photos you two had up were replaced with odd knick-knacks, like snow globes and seashells. the plants you always had on the bookcase was replaced with hangyul’s collection of trophies and medals from his taekwondo and basketball days. all traces of you were gone.

you expected that he would get rid of everything that reminded him of you, just like you had done to him, but actually seeing it broke your heart.

“y/n?”

you froze at the sound of his husky voice. you knew you were inevitably going to see him, but you hadn’t expected to see him this quickly.

“hangyul…” you breathed out, as you turned to face him.

everything around you was tuned out as you stared at him. he looked the same as before, yet completely different at the same time. his eyes, that had always held a warmth in it, raked over your body, taking in every little change. his jaw dropped slightly, as he came to grips with the fact that you were really there. his hair was raven black now, and slightly longer, to the point that it fell just below his eyebrow. at a glance, you could tell that he had matured a lot over the past year. he was still as clean-shaven as he was when you were dating, but gone were the quirky and colourful t-shirts, now he had on a classier outfit that showcased just how much he had matured in the past year.

“what… what are you doing here?” he asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between you.

you clear your throat, hoping that your nervousness doesn’t show in your voice, “i bumped into seungyoun a couple of days ago, and he invited me and my friends to your party. i hope you don’t mind. i can leave if you want me to.”

he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up, “no, it’s fine. stay. i know the others missed you. enjoy the party.”

he turned around quickly, and walked away, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. it stung to see him run away, but a small part of you was glad that the worst was over. you walked to the kitchen, where you knew you could find some alcohol to take away sting of watching him walk away from you, again.

after drinking enough to get you buzzed, you walked out the kitchen, trying to find one of your friends in the crowd. it didn’t take long to find them, their loud singing drawing you towards the make-shift dance floor in the living room. you laughed as you watched your uncoordinated friends try to dance sexily to the hip-hop music that was blasting out of the radio. before long they noticed you staring and dragged you into the middle of the dance floor, where you let everything go. you ignored all the memories and the emptiness in your gut, letting the music and the excitement in the room flow through you. you knew you looked as ridiculous as your friends, but in that moment you didn’t care. for the first time in a long time, you were laughing and enjoying yourself.

you had been dancing and laughing with your friends, until you suddenly realised what song was playing. you froze. sure, you had heard the song since your break-up but hearing it now, in hangyul’s apartment, brought back so many memories you desperately wanted to push away. it wasn’t until your eyes locked with his, from across the room, that you noticed you were looking for him. while everyone around you danced happily to finesse by bruno mars and cardi b, you and hangyul stared at each other, and from the look on his face, you knew he was remembering the same memory as you.

he had been trying to choreograph a dance for the dance crew he was a part of, and since no one else was around, you offered to help him. the only problem was that you forgot that you have two left feet and couldn’t dance to save your life. after hours of trying to teach you the most basic moves, hangyul pulled you into a hug.

“i love you, but let’s leave the dancing to me, ok?” he had said, his face bright with laughter.

you scoffed. he wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to admit that to him. “i’m not that bad.”

“babe, a baby giraffe has better coordination than you,” he said, before darting out of the way as you tried to swat his arm. he ran around the dance studio, laughing evilly every time he was able to dart out of your reach.

“you take that back now.” you tried to chase him, but between your lack of coordination and lack of stamina, you knew it was a losing game. so, after a few minutes, you inevitably end up lying on the floor, huffing and puffing, as hangyul stood over you.

hangyul laughed at the sight below him, his eyes sparkling with a teasing glint, “well, if i took it back, i’d be lying, and my mum didn’t raise no liar.”

hangyul broke eye contact first, pulling you out of your trance. he turned back to his friends, tuning back into the conversation with ease. but you couldn’t look away. the remnants of the memory stayed at the forefront of you mind, and you realise with a start that you still wanted him in your life. no, you needed him in your life. there had been an empty space in your life, and hangyul was the only one that could fill it.

but you didn’t know if he needed you. and, the thought that he didn’t need you in the same way you needed him, broke you more than you wanted to admit. he seemed happy, from what you could see, but you knew he wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. you couldn’t read him the way you used to. but there was a sliver of hope lodged in the back of your mind: what if he feels the same way?

you don’t know what compelled you to stay until the last person had left, something pulled you back every time you started to leave the party. even when your friends were leaving, you made an excuse, saying that you missed the guys, so you wanted to stay and hang out with them. but, when the last person left the party, you realised there was no reason for you to stay alone with hangyul. you two hadn’t spoken since the conversation you had when you walked in, and it seemed like he was avoiding you. so, you grabbed your bag and started making your way to the door.

“wait!”

you stopped abruptly, having not expected him to talk to you. you turned to face him, taking in the way he nervously scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere but you.

“just this once, please stay with me.”

had it not been for the fact that his whole apartment was dead silent, you probably wouldn’t have caught what he said. he had spoken in a soft tone, his voice barely carrying over to you from where he stood.

“what?” you asked, in disbelief.

he took a minute to gather his confidence. “stay,” he said, finally looking you in the eye, “please.”

you nodded, not trusting your voice. you were happy, no ecstatic, that he asked you to stay, but you also didn’t want to get your hope up. you put your bag down on the couch, and the two of you stood looking at each other in an awkward silence. for the first time since knowing him, you didn’t know what to say to him. you wanted nothing more than to go back to the time when everything was easy with him, when you didn’t second-guess every word that came out of your mouth.

you decided to walk away, taking the opportunity to venture into the parts of his apartment you hadn’t seen that night. you could feel him following you, his gaze burning through you. you opened the door that you knew led to his bedroom, wanting to see if he had made any changes to this room like he did with the living room. you walked around the room, as he took a seat on his bed, watching you as you took in every detail of the room.

you had so many things to ask him, so many things to say, but every time you opened your mouth, you doubted yourself. did you have the right to ask him anything about his life? you weren’t friends, but you also couldn’t say that you were strangers after everything you two had been through.

“so, how have you been?” you asked, breaking through the silence. you leaned against his desk, looking directly at him.

“i’ve been better. i’ve really busy lately.” he leaned back on his arms, looking somewhat relaxed for the first time in your presence. his answer was as vague as possible, so you pushed on.

“are you still dancing?”

“when i have free time, which lately hasn’t been much.”

you walked over to the bed and flopped next to him. “what about the orphanage? do you still visit?”

“every week.” he laid down next to you, turning his head to look at you. “i heard you visit the kids too.”

“sometimes…” whenever i think of you. you couldn’t bring yourself to say that, scared of the wounds you might be opening by speaking your truth.

“what about you? how have you been?”

“i’ve been better,” you said, echoing his exact words. you didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

“care to elaborate?”

you hesitated, deciding whether to tell him the truth and come up with some white lie.

“do you remember why we broke up?”

from the corner of your eye, you saw his head swing towards you, clearly shocked by the sudden change of subject. “what?”

“i’ve been thinking about it lately, and i realised that i don’t remember why we broke up.”

he cleared his throat. “why were you thinking about it?” he asked softly.

“last month, i ran into a couple of old friends who asked about you, and why we broke up. i couldn’t give them an answer, because i don’t remember. ever since then, i’ve constantly been thinking about you, us, the way we used to be... do you ever think about me?”

you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for his response. he had the power to shatter the sliver of hope you had with a single word. you felt the bed shift beneath you, but you barely registered it as a cloud of doubt and anxiety takes over your mind.

suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, hesitant and soft. his hand cupped your cheek as he slowly deepened the kiss, running his tongue across your lower lip. there was a hesitation in everything he did, like he was expecting you to push him away. but you didn’t. instead, you kissed him back with everything in you, pulling him as close as you can. you didn’t want to let him go, not when you finally felt like you were home. so, you held on, pouring your love and need for him into the kiss and into every touch.

he slowly pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed as he whispered against your lips, “i never stopped thinking about you.”

#x1 #x1net #x1 imagines #x1 scenarios #x1 au #x1 angst #x1 fluff #lee hangyul #101 prompts #mine: x1 #mine: angst #mine: fluff

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ozai-the-bonsai · 3 years

Text

Ghost In The Dark (Valtor x OC)

Link to Chapter 1:

Time Line: Chapter 2 is set a few days before Tecna closes the portal connecting Andros and the Omega Dimension.

Rating: M

*2* Fire Burning Under Your Skin

(Word Count: 3250)

After Hel had calmed down, the Trix had escorted her to an empty bedroom which used to belong to one of the professors before Valtor marked them all. With all the ladies gone, Valtor could finally gather his thoughts in the peaceful silence; however, something was very much disturbing him.

All those years, he had partly blamed Hel for their imprisonment in the Omega Dimension since she had disappeared when he needed her the most. Her incredible arrogance had been the reason why the Company of Light had managed to defeat Hel pitifully easily considering she had been one of the post powerful witches to roam the magical universe –at least that was what Valtor believed before Hel told him what Mandragora had done.

He knew very well that every one of Mandragora’s actions were being controlled by the Ancestral Witches, which meant that they had ordered Mandragora to steal Hel’s ring. They had wanted Hel to be captured.

This is too odd, Valtor thought while he stood in front of the massive window inside the headmistress’s office as his grey eyes thoughtfully gazed upon the dark, night sky. Why would the Ancestral Witches want to get rid of her? During the time we worked for them, they had no complaints about her –in fact, they were greatly pleased with her progress. Unless…

Unless they thought she was becoming a… distraction.

Back then, when they were working together, Valtor had taken a fancy to Hel. Being the fierce and tough woman she was, Hel had played quite hard to get; however, Valtor had always liked a good challenge. The harder the challenge, the sweeter the victory.

The attraction between the two of them had been undeniable and it would have taken a will of titanium not to fall for Valtor’s charms, hence Hel had eventually given into her heart’s deepest desires. Of course, it hadn’t been easy for her to admit that she had been falling for Valtor; even though they had been partners in crime, she had always seen Valtor as a rival.

After all, only one could be the most powerful sorcerer in the magical dimension.

Still, her ambitions hadn’t been powerful enough to keep Hel away from Valtor. The more time they had spent together, the weaker her walls had become and at the end she had been the one to pull Valtor inside her arms.

Upon recalling the nights they had spent together, the edge of Valtor’s lip curled upwards.

Hel had always been a rather physical person; even before the attraction between the two begun to form, she would never miss an opportunity to put her hands on him –the light touch on the shoulder while passing by, the faint contact of the knees under the table… So it had been no surprise when they had found out that they simply weren’t able to keep their hands to themselves at night.

She had a strong effect on him, she had always had, just like a drug and unfortunately, Hel knew how to use this to her advantage. And this is exactly why the Ancestral Witches decided to finish her off, Valtor thought as he shook himself and headed to the desk. Because I let myself get so unnecessarily distracted by her.

Seems like nothing has changed –despite all those years we’ve spent apart and despite all the blame I’ve put on her, she is still magnetic.

Clearing his head, Valtor pushed every single thought about Hel away from his mind and continued reading Cloud Tower’s spell books from where he had left off until his peace was disturbed by a presence lurking inside the shadows. The sorcerer’s grey eyes didn’t even leave the book between his hand as he spoke.

“I thought you wanted to get a beauty sleep, not a two-hour-nap.” Valtor said, he was sitting on the chair with his legs crossed on the desk, as always. Upon hearing his voice, Hel stepped out of the shadows behind the bookcase. She had her usual sleepwear on her: a silver-coloured, silk set consisting of a tank top and shorts.

“The voices of the dead don’t allow me to rest, unfortunately.” she responded and yawned while she was walking towards the desk “Some serious chaos took over the Underworld during my absence.”

Valtor eyed the dark haired woman for a moment before speaking “Do they know you’re back?”

Hel shook her head “No but some of them has begun to feel my presence and they are trying to reach their queen.” she said and grimaced “Do you have any idea how annoying it is to hear countless different voices in your head while you’re in the middle of a pleasant dream?”

“I can only imagine,” Valtor responded as he put down the book he was holding onto the desk, his eyes following Hel’s movements as she walked past the desk and stood in front of the window, her back facing him “But I suppose it would have been better for you to deal with the problems of the Underworld in person instead of complaining about them to me.”

Hel rolled her eyes in annoyance “I am not going anywhere before you explain,” she said and turned to look at Valtor with her arms crossed over her chest “Why the fuck you’ve left me in the Omega Dimension.”

She’s hurt, Valtor thought as he analysed Hel’s tone and gestures. Because she wouldn’t have left me behind if she had been the first one to escape the ice.

Taking a deep breath, Valtor let his legs down and stood up from the chair “Would you wake a potential rival from their eternal sleep, Hel?” he asked while he took slow steps towards her.

The dark haired woman let out a cold, scornful laughter “Perhaps I’ve forgot what a huge self-seeker you are,” she spat out the words as if they were venom “But what was I expecting from a man whose mothers are directly responsible for my time in the ice?”

With that, Hel sent Valtor a last, furious look and walked past him, her shoulder forcefully hitting his arm “Hel, wait,” Valtor said and held her from her right wrist “What Mandragora did has nothing to do with me.”

Hel looked at Valtor over her shoulder as she freed her wrist from his hold “Do I look like a fool to you?” she asked with an angry tone and once again tried to walk away from him, only to be caught by Valtor once again. The sorcerer pulled her against his chest and placed his right hand around her waist so that she wouldn’t be able to step back. His left hand was still holding Hel from her right wrist “Let me go!”

“Tell me, Hel, when have I lied to you?” Valtor asked with a low and calm voice, which caused Hel to stop trying to push him away “Think logically, losing you bore nothing in my advantage –on the contrary, it is one of the reasons why I also ended up in the Omega Dimension.”

For a moment, both of them just looked at each other in pure silence: They were standing so close to each other so that Hel was able to feel the warmth radiating off his body –because of the dragon fire within him, Valtor had always been warm. And once again, after sixteen long years, Hel was feeling the familiar realisation of how small she was compared to Valtor, whose huge frame was towering over her. Being inside his arms had always made her feel that way –it made her feel both safe and small.

“You really are cold,” Valtor spoke with a lower voice this time, he wasn’t wearing his gloves, hence he could feel Hel’s skin under his palm. Slowly, he moved his left hand, which was holding Hel’s wrist, along her right arm “Almost frozen.”

Upon feeling his hand tracing her skin, Hel shivered, which caused a small smirk to form on Valtor’s lips. She has missed my touch; this makes everything more interesting. Seems like it takes more than sixteen years in ice to snuff out some flames.

Quickly, Hel wore her usual, reckless expression –she simply couldn’t stand the idea of showing Valtor how much she had actually missed him. No, she would rather burn in the flames of her yearning than to give Valtor the satisfaction of seeing that she still wasn’t able to resist him.

Either he admits it first, Hel thought as her grey eyes wandered on Valtor’s strong facial features. Or the chase begins all over again.

“Well, darling, not all of us carry the breath of the dragon under our skin.” she said and slowly stepped back when she felt Valtor’s hold loosening. Then, she walked left to the desk, eyeing all the books piled up on it “Seeking to acquire every single piece of magical knowledge in the magical universe, hmm? Just like old times.” Pushing away some books, Hel sat on the desk “Which dimension do these books belong to?”

Valtor snapped his fingers and the books began to re-organise themselves “These are from the spell vault of the Cloud Tower.” he responded and sat on the chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

Hel licked her lower lip “Oh, I’ve tried everything to get my claws on some of these back then when I was a student here, in the Cloud Tower.” she muttered “Are there any books for my taste?”

The sorcerer pursed his lips “I haven’t come across anything about necromancy or shadow magic, yet.” he said, then pointed at the books with his head “But I’m sure they are simply hiding somewhere in those pages.”

Hel sent him a fake smile “Then inform me when you find them, will you?” she said, which caused Valtor to let out a soft chuckle “So, whom are you fighting this time?” she asked as she began to draw circles on the desk with the index finger of her right hand “I suppose the Company of Light is not really in the game anymore.”

Valtor shrugged recklessly “Well, there aren’t many people who dare stand against the mighty Valtor,” he spoke with an arrogant tone “Except for the remnants of the Company of Light and a bunch of fairies.”

“A bunch of fairies?” Hel repeated him and threw her head back as she let out a long, loud laughter “This is hilarious –and you haven’t got rid of them yet? In front of the mighty Valtor, fairies should be no different than flies.”

However, a frown appeared on Hel’s face when she couldn’t get the expected reaction from Valtor –instead of mockery, a serious look fell into his grey eyes “Hey, what’s wrong?” Hel asked with a rather soft voice, which had been an instinctual shift, and reached forwards to place her right hand under Valtor’s chin. With slow movements, she lifted his head so that they were making eye contact “Talk to me.”

“The keeper of the dragon fire is alive.” Valtor said coolly “And she is one of those fairies.”

Hel withdrew her right hand as a shocked expression appeared on her face “What? The heir to the throne of Domino? Oritel and Marion’s daughter?” she asked “How is that possible?!”

The sorcerer crossed his arms over his chest “Apparently, her older sister has managed to save her from the attack on Domino.” he said with an obvious annoyance in his voice.

“And she poses a threat for you since the essence of her powers is pure dragon fire,” Hel spoke while she ran her right hand through her dark hair “Which is the only thing that can actually harm you –so your plan is to simply get rid of her, then end the Company of Light for good, and eventually spread your reign across the universe?”

Valtor nodded while he slowly stood up from the chair “That is pretty much the deal,” he said and smirked “And now that you’re by my side once again, nothing will stand in my way.”

Hel clicked her tongue as she moved her right index finger in front of Valtor in a disapproving manner “No, darling, that is not my fight anymore.” she said, which caused Valtor to raise a sceptic brow at her “The dragon fire is no longer an interest of mine –as you see, I do not serve the Ancestral Witches any longer.”

After taking two wide steps towards her, Valtor stood in front of Hel and placed his hands on the desk, on either sides of her sitting figure “What are you planning to do, then?” he asked, his eyebrow still arched. Just as Hel was about to answer, two ravens flying in front of the window croaked loudly “Looks like the word of your return is spreading quite fast.”

The two ravens Daudi and Skadi (meaning death and shadow in Old Norse, respectively) could be considered as Hel’s pets –apart from the time she spent in the Underworld, the ravens would never leave Hel’s side.

Hel shrugged “Don’t mind those two, they’re simply overmuch excited to have me back, that’s all.” she said “What I’m planning is, of course, revenge –you didn’t think you were the only one to plot their revenge during their time in the ice, did you?”

Seeing Hel’s dark side had always turned Valtor on in an indescribable way –no physical contact would be needed at that point. Simply feeling the dark, wicked aura surrounding her and radiating off her body would be enough for Valtor to lose every bit of self-control he had on himself.

It seemed like Hel got quite carried away while telling her plan, hence she didn’t notice that Valtor’s eyes were getting darker with lust every passing moment “First, I have to regain my strength and establish the order in the Underworld to rebuilt my army of the dead. Of course, there’s also one little sunny problem, too, that needs to be fixed –I’m never living the life of a bat once again. Then,” she said and playfully poked Valtor from his chest with her index finger “I’ll go after your mothers and their little minion Mandragora, only to send them into Oblivion for an eternity –one should get a taste of their own weapon, don’t you think so?”

For a moment, Hel stopped talking and slowly moved her right hand to Valtor’s face. Seeing that he wasn’t pushing her hand away, she began to trace his features with a faint touch “Until then,” she continued to speak “I might just stick around here for a while, y’know, just for the fun of it.” Her grey eyes were following the trail her fingers were leaving on his face. She was giving it all not to meet Valtor’s gaze for she could feel his intense looks on herself and she knew she’d melt the moment she saw the yearning within his piercing, grey eyes “Maybe I could visit some familiar worlds to take back the powers which once belonged to me.”

As Hel pulled her right hand back, a smirk spread onto Valtor’s lips. With incredibly slow movements, he leaned into Hel and pushed back the right part of her dark hair behind her right shoulder so that her ear wasn’t covered by the hair anymore. After placing his left hand on the right side of her waist, Valtor brought his lips on a level with Hel’s ear and whispered “So it’ll be like the old times, hmm?”

He still smells the same, Hel thought while she shivered once again –feeling Valtor’s warm breath licking her neck had always made her feel dizzy. Leather and cologne.

Valtor waited for a few second; however, upon seeing that Hel wasn’t making any moves, he slightly pulled away so that he was looking at her face once again. No matter how much she wants me to touch her, she is still the same old Hel –refusing to be the first one to drop the indifferent façade with every single piece of her will.

Well, love, the years we’ve spent apart didn’t blur my memory –I am still perfectly capable of bringing you to your knees.

“I could use the element of surprise against my enemies,” Valtor said while his right hand rested on Hel’s left upper-leg and once again, he was struck by the coldness of her skin. It was for a fact that Hel had always been colder compared to any other human because of her connection with the dead; however, she had never felt this cold against his skin “After all, the Company of Light has no idea that you’re back and I doubt the fairies know about you at all.”

Hel raised an eyebrow “I have no idea how long I’ll have to stay in the Underworld, Valtor –if I were you, I’d make my plans without taking the element of surprise into account.” she said and then took a deep breath upon feeling Valtor’s hand slowly caressing her inner thigh “So, which worlds have you conquered so far?” she asked, trying to maintain the indifferent face. Her efforts were only causing the smirk on Valtor’s lips to grow “Solaria, as I see, has been once again the first on the list.”

Slowly, Hel placed her hands against Valtor’s chest but because of the purple vest and the white ruffled shirt, she wasn’t able to feel much of him under her palms. At least he wasn’t wearing his long, maroon jacket –one layer less.

“Well, you know how much my dragon fire likes to feel the presence of the sun.” he responded “The two just have some kind of… chemistry.”

The edge of Hel’s lip curled upwards as she tilted her head to the side “And that’s why you used to sleep with the Witch of Shadows, hmm?” she spoke with a challenging tone as some little shadows circled around her head for a few seconds.

Valtor playfully rolled his eyes at her words “Her shadows didn’t use to burn me back then.” he said while his right hand left Hel’s leg and cupped her face.

“You should’ve known better than to leave me behind, Valtor.” Hel muttered under her breath but she silently gasped when his left hand, which had been resting on her waist, slowly slid under the hem of her tank top and held her bare waist.

“Hmm,” Valtor spoke with a deep and husky tone “Her skin didn’t use to feel as cold as ice, too.”

Well, two can play this game, darling, Hel thought as her hands, which were on Valtor’s chest, held him from his waist and pulled down into her so that there was very little distance left between their lips “Maybe you could pass her some heat,” Hel whispered against Valtor’s lips with a seductive voice, her eyes were trying to capture his; however, Valtor’s gaze was lingering on her lips “She still recalls the fire burning under your skin.”

Under her hands, Hel could feel how fast Valtor’s heart was beating, which brought a victory smirk to her lips. After Hel’s hold on him loosened, Valtor licked his lower lip and withdrew his upper body a little bit back while placing his right hand on Hel’s waist under her top as well. Slowly, he leaned into her ear once again “If that’s your wish, love,” he whispered and then placed his lips on Hel’s neck.

The amount of tension in this chapter was rather intense, wasn’t it? I hope you’ve enjoyed it, please don’t forget to give me some feedback!!

#winx #winx valtor #valtor #winx club #valtor x oc #fanfiction #fate netflix #fate the winx saga #trix

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ourownsideimagines · 5 years

Text

Personal Affairs (Aziraphale x genderqueer!Reader x Crowley pre-relationship)

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Genderqueer!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @lordbeezyprinceofhell

Point of View: Second Person

Summary: While looking over the shop for Aziraphale, the mafia decide they’re going to pay a visit. Little do they know, you have Crowley on the phone.

Warnings: Guns, shooting, blood, angst

Words: 1476

A/N: I was writing this along with a fem!reader so if I messed up on pronouns please let me know!!!

---

Watching over the bookshop was one of the greater pleasures in (name)’s life. They’d known the angel for a number of years now, having stopped by in the midst of a rainstorm in hope the kind shop owner would allow them to wait it out. The two of them had got to know each other that night, and (name) found themself coming back, even if they didn’t browse the shelves.

It took a few years for (name) to figure out that Aziraphale and his companion Crowley weren’t quite human. The two looked human, and they sounded human, but there was no way those two men were human. It hadn’t been nearly as hard to work out what they were, in the end. Especially when it seemed almost every time he opened his mouth Crowley addressed Aziraphale as ‘Angel’. At first (name) had assumed it was a term of endearment - in the end, maybe it still was. They weren’t about to judge.

It took a few months of back and forth arguing before the two finally admitted it. (Name) apologized with a new Velvet Underground CD for Crowley and a angel-wing mug for Aziraphale. And after a few more months, and some not-so-great times, Aziraphale offered them a job at the bookshop - to watch over it while he was away, and reorganize if anything needed reorganizing. It was the best paying job (name) had ever had, and they absolutely loved it. They hadn’t sold a single book, at Aziraphale’s request. He’d quickly taught them the art of turning people down, which was both anxiety inducing and very relieving at the same time.

On nights like this, alone in the shop, (name) liked to think about many things. Sometimes, it was about the books. Aziraphale allowed (name) to read them as long as they remained in pristine condition. Other times, (name) would think about how they could better organize a display. They knew the clutter was more to drive off potential customers, but it bothered them. They didn’t want to end up being stuck under a mountain of books they’d accidentally knocked over while trying to reach whatever it is that Aziraphale had asked them to grab.

Oh, and they also tended to think about their angelic boss and his demonic partner. A lot.

(Name) had had a crush on the two of them way before ever finding out what they were. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t give just to know if the two liked them back - maybe not their arms. They liked their arms very much.

Sometimes, they thought about telling the boys. What was the worst that could happen, after all?

Rejection?

Sure, they could reject them. But they wouldn’t stop being friends, would they? Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t seem like the type to do that, but nerves kept (name) from saying it anyway. They really wanted to stay their friend, even if that meant pinning for the rest of their life.

Tonight, the shop was empty. (Name) hadn’t bothered to lock the front door just yet, they were happily sorting through a few of the newer books deciding the best places to put them, where no one but themself and Aziraphale would find them. A sigh left their lips as they heard the bell above the front door ring. They snatched their phone off a nearby shelf, pausing their music before making their way out to the front.

“Hey, Mis-ter Fell,” the sing-song voice made (name)’s blood run cold. They stopped before entering the main part of the shop. Quickly, they unlocked their phone, and dialed up the only number that came to mind - Crowley’s. He told them to only use it in emergencies, since he didn’t like his phone being clogged up, so (name) hadn’t used it yet. They hoped to someone that Crowley would pick up. After muting their phone, (name) wedged it between a couple of books before taking in a deep breath and resuming their greeting.

“Hello, welcome,” They said coolly. It was a group of three men, dressed in black slacks, dark shirts and fancy shoes. (Name) was positive that at least one of them had a gun, they could see the bulge in on his side. “Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen?”

“Where’s Mr. Fell?” Asked the man with the gun. He was the largest of the three, and his fingers were decorated with many different rings.

“He’s not in right now,” If Crowley had answered the phone, they would be listening in by now, (name) was certain of it. Wherever they were, (name) hoped that if things got out of hand they would reach the shop soon. “If you need him, perhaps you can come back at a later date?”

“You here that,” The man turned to his friends. “Mr. Fell isn’t in right now.” The men began knocking over piles of books, much to (name)’s dismay. They had just finished organizing the clutter and now the men were making it worse.

“What the hell are you doing,” They said, taking a few steps in the men’s direction. “Stop that-” (Name) squeaked a bit as the big man drew his gun, pointing it at them almost carelessly.

“Look, love, this isn’t anything personal,” He said. “It’s between us and Mr. Fell.” The click of the hammer being pulled back made their whole body go stiff. “So, why don’t you take your pretty little face and get the hell out of here?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” The man’s grip on the gun tightened.

“I said no. I asked you to come back later.”

“And I don’t think you heard me correctly.” The man sneered. “It is between us and Mr. Fell. Nothing personal.”

“It feels pretty personal.” (Name) took a step back as the man took a step forward. “I think it’s time you left.”

“I don’t think you understand our situation,” The man growled. “I’ve got the gun. I’m in charge now.”

“Seeing as you don’t work here, I can’t see why you’d be in charge.” (Name) was stalling now, praying to whoever might be listening that it wouldn’t be much longer.

“I’m gonna count to three. If you aren’t out of this bloody shop, I’m gonna shoot you.”

“Now, I really don’t believe that’s necessary.” (name) rushed out.

“One,”

“Please, I’m sure we can settle this-”

“Two,”

“Oh, god, please tell me you picked up the phone-”

“Three.” (Name) took in a sharp gasp as the gun went off, crying out as the bullet tore through her shoulder, splattering blood back onto the nearby bookcase. The lights flickered momentarily, and as if in a scene from a horror movie, something appeared. Then men didn’t get out a scream before the shop went dark. (Name) had sunk to the floor, holding a hand over the bleeding wound. When the lights came back on, they could have cried in relief. Crowley and Aziraphale stood in the middle of the shop, stone faced. Aziraphale adjusted his bow-tie while Crowley’s gaze snapped in your direction. The first thing (name) noticed was that he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. The second thing they noticed was the light blood splatter on the ground at their feet, which disappeared with the snap of Aziraphale’s fingers.

Crowley rushed to (name)’s side.

“Let me see,” He said. He gently grabbed (name)’s wrist, and dragged their hand away from the wound. Crowley didn’t have much of a reaction to the sight. He placed a hand over the wound and (name) took in another sharp breath as a sense of relief courses through them. When Crowley pulled his hand back, the wound was gone, as was the blood and even the hole in their shirt. “Come on. Up you get.” Crowley hauled them to their feet.

“I’m so sorry, I know you two were busy.” (Name) said.

“Why in Heaven’s name are you apologizing, my dear?” Aziraphale gaped. “You were in trouble, there’s nothing you could do about that.”

“I could have handled it better. Probably could have avoided getting shot.”

“If you hadn’t called, you could have wound up dead, (name).” Crowley said. “Don’t apologize.”

“Okay.” (Name) murmured.

“Now,” Crowley straightened his jacket. “How about we take you out to dinner. Something nice. After all that, I don’t imagine you want to spend the rest of your night in here.”

“I believe that’s a swell idea.” Aziraphale agreed. “What do you say, (name)?” (Name) glanced around the shop. The books that had been knocked over where still there, but the men who had done the knocking over were nowhere to be seen. The man with the gun was nowhere to be seen. Their blood, which had decorated the shelved not even five minutes ago was nowhere to be seen.

A miracle, they decided.

“Yes.” They said. “I think I’d like that.”

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 21

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Sunday, cont’d

“It’s absolutely gorgeous here,” Rose murmured as they strolled the gardens. “So different from the hustle and bustle of London. The rolling green hills, mountains in the distance. I thought my parents’ house was out of the way, but this…”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, with perhaps a touch of smugness. “I’ve always loved it up here, the wide open spaces, the lack of people… It’s been a long time.”

“Why?”

Malcolm gave her a wry smile. “Missy. I thought… I was afraid that I’d come up here and just… drown in the memories. That I’d look around every corner and see the ghost of the past.”

Rose nodded, biting back a sigh. I should’ve known. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help…” She realized the danger in that only when she finished speaking. Yeah, sorry, that doesn’t mean a shag. If we were strangers in a pub and you wanted to fuck me to forget your ex, I’d probably say yes. But here, now, as us? Not bloody likely.

“I said I was afraid that would happen. But, thankfully, it hasn’t. I don’t see the past, I just see… the future. My future.” He turned shining eyes on her, and her heart leapt in hope.

Still, she tried to deflect with a joke. “Sheepherding?”

“Aye,” he went along with it after a beat, eyes crinkling slightly as he stared at her. “I’ve always suspected that was my true calling, but never wanted to face facts. How did you know?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Of course,” he grinned, using their entwined elbows to pull her into his side. “Can you imagine? Me, whistling at dogs all day? Walking through muck? It’s an honest living, but I’m not the man for it.”

“Good to know, because if it was, that should’ve been a conversation before the vows.”

“There’s probably a few conversations we should’ve had before the vows,” Malcolm murmured, and she glanced up to find him staring at the ground. “But, here we are.”

Rose’s brow furrowed, wondering what he meant. “Don’t tell me there’s another Mrs. Tucker, this one locked in the attic,” she ventured.

He laughed and looked up, any evidence of his previous pensiveness gone. “If there is, it’s news to both of us,” he teased. “No, no, no one else.”

“All right, but let me know if you’ve got your eye on someone to take my place,” she warned, not entirely joking. “I need proper notice.”

“No need,” he didn’t hesitate, “there’s just you. Only you. And that’s not going to change.”

She didn’t know how to reply to that, so they lapsed into silence as they strolled the grounds. The sun was starting to sink, the visitors slowly making their way to the exit, and she wondered what, in fact, the future did hold for them.

Only time will tell.

I always hated that saying.

Jack met them at the door when they returned from their walk, smiling brightly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Rose agreed as they stopped in front of him, subtly untwining her arm from Malcom’s; to her slight surprise, he allowed it, but only to skate his fingers down her forearm to her hand, lacing them together. It was hardly an unwelcome touch, except now she was blushing for no reason in front of his cousin. “Do you get much time to admire it? Take in the sunset?”

“I’m more likely to see the sun rise,” Jack said with a bawdy wink. “No, seriously, I’m usually up before dawn to get the day started around here, but I see the sunset on occasion. When Yan has a day off on a clear evening, we’ll go out in the boat and watch from the water. If you get the chance while you’re here, you should. It’s tres romantic.”

Malcolm gave a slight groan. “Well, we might’ve before you admitted to a romp in it,” he complained. “You’re incorrigible.”

His cousin just shrugged, still grinning. “But always satisfied. Can you say the same?” He scanned Rose, gaze lingering just shy of making her uncomfortable. “Maybe so.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Malcolm said sharply, stiffening next to her. “She’s still the-”

“Malcolm,” Rose interrupted quietly, squeezing his hand, “don’t. He’s just joking around. Right?” she sent Jack a pointed look.

Thankfully, he was as bright as he was pretty, quickly nodding along. “I just meant that you look happy.”

Still looking as though his feathers were ruffled, Malcolm gave a sharp nod and a sigh. “Fine. Were you waiting for us for a reason?”

“Uh, yes,” he jumped tracks relatively smoothly, “I thought you might want to check in with Gwen, introduce her to Ro- Lady Gallifrey, that sort of thing. She’s got a few minutes right now.”

“Yes, let’s.”

“Well, another fabulous meal,” Rose grinned as they left the dining room. “Why doesn’t Ianto- that’s his name, right?- open his own restaurant?”

“He, uh, started as a footman,” Malcolm, replied, distracted, as he tried to decide where to go now. “Fell into the cooking when the position opened up. I’m reasonably certain he stayed for Jack- he was always talking about moving on before they got involved. Hasn’t mentioned it in years, now.” The last time we had a drink in the library, we ended up in bed. I don’t want her to think I’m propositioning her, but that’s been our routine since she moved in and I like it. “Not sure I understand that, staying in a job you’ve outgrown for love.”

“I do,” Rose muttered, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. “Some things are worth staying for,” she added a little louder. “Why are we standing in the hallway?”

“Wasn’t sure where to go,” he decided to be honest, glancing at her. “I can give you more of a tour, we can turn in early, have a drink… Watch a movie?”

Her lips quirked up, and she arched an eyebrow. “I presume there’s a drink cart in the library, same as at home?”

He nodded, unable to speak, too overcome with joy at her calling the townhouse ‘home’ already.

“Then, shall we?”

Deep in the throes of déjà vu, he purposely turned his back on her as they entered, heading right for the cart to fix their drinks. “Scotch, or something else? I’ve got a full cart here- you’d think they were expecting the queen.”

“The usual is fine,” she said easily, and he turned to find her browsing the bookshelves. “Honestly, I don’t understand how you can bear not living here full time. This place is amazing.”

“Thanks.” Joining her, he handed over her glass. “I love it, it’s a good respite from the real world, but… London is my home. I treasure my time here more when it’s fleeting.” Taking a sip, he sighed, confiding, “I always thought I’d bring my family up here, like I came as a child. Obviously that didn’t work out for several reasons, but… the could-have-beens and never-weres haunt me, sometimes. Makes it hard to enjoy the here-and-now.”

“I know what you mean.” Rose turned to him, putting a gentle hand on his arm, bright and kind eyes smiling at him. “But you can’t get lost in it, otherwise you’ll miss what’s happening right in front of you.”

In truth, he knew what was happening right in front of him, and it scared the living daylights out of him. He knew in his bones if he kissed her she would reciprocate, would even let him have her against this very bookcase. The idea was equal parts terrifying and intoxicating, and he wrestled with himself. “I want…”

“Yes?”

He closed his eyes, lowering his forehead to her. “I want to be happy,” he whispered, as if saying it louder would void the wish. “I want someone to love me the way I love them, with everything that they are, someone who would just… be there for me, and I could be there for her, and we could just dive into it together. Partners, in every sense. Soulmates. But… it has to be even. They have to be as present and committed as I am, because I’ve done that before, over and over, gave too much of myself and got too little in return. Am I asking too much?”

“No, you’re not,” Rose replied. Her voice was soft and warm, and a braver man would say it was full of love. “You’re not. And the fact that no one has lived up to that yet doesn’t mean no one will. Maybe… maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place.” As close as they were he felt her breath puff against his lips, could hear the shake in it. “Maybe you just need to open your eyes.”

He did, unable to resist her, to deny her siren song. Their eyes met, and for the first time, his heart dared to believe that she might actually, possibly, miraculously feel the same. “Rose-”

“Oh, God,” she suddenly gagged, eyes widening in horror. “Loo?” She broke away, running out into the hall, and he chased her, directing her into the first bathroom they came across; she slammed the door in his face, and only seconds later, the unmistakable sounds of someone being sick filtered through to him.

“Well, that’s auspicious,” he grumbled to himself, fishing out his mobile; in the 21st century, it was easier to ring the maid that way. “Rose, you all right?”

Another retch was his answer, and he shook his head.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Padding out of the loo still tying the waistband on his sleep pants, Malcolm yawned. Killing the last light he climbed into bed, gingerly shifting around in a vain attempt to not disturb Rose.

“I’m sorry I was sick,” she mumbled in a small voice, and he glanced over at her back in surprise, having thought she was already out.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry. I completely forgot to tell Ianto about the raspberries, didn't even notice them. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Shuffling came from the other side of the bed, and a moment later, he saw the faint glint of her eye. “It’s all right, I forget half the time too, it’s so rarely an issue. But I’m okay, really.”

“Good.” Not quite satisfied but willing to take her word for it, he stretched out on his side facing her. “I hate to think this is how you spend your first night in Scotland.”

“I’ll say you got me drunk,” she replied, voice soft and somewhat woozy. “And the high altitude affected me.”

“It’s not that different,” he laughed softly, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. “Not enough to be noticeable.”

Rose just sighed, snuggling a little closer. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

His heart melted, and he tentatively laid his arm over her hip, relaxing when she only moved closer still. “You’re my wife.” The words, the very idea still felt strange and unreal, even though it had now been ten days. He wondered, vaguely, if it would ever feel real, and not just a dream. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Ditto,” she mumbled. “Par’ners.” She let out a soft snore, almost out, before saying one last thing- it was hard to hear, and he wasn’t sure, but she was fully asleep before his heart could restart, let alone his brain direct words out of his mouth to ask her to repeat it.

Though he spent the next hour wide awake convincing himself it was a final thank you, the treacherous, greedy bastard living in his chest was bold enough to argue back what he really wanted her to have said.

Love you.

“I love you too,” he breathed.

He fell asleep smiling.

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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tinytendril · 5 years

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wanna dance with you, pt. 2 - robbaery au Summary: Drabbles or a collection of moments between Margaery and Robb, finding themselves unexpectedly drawn to each other over the course of the summer after high school graduation and the start of her college freshman year.

Chapter Summary: Robb and Margaery find themselves trying to navigate an even hazier view of their friendship. Robb says things. Margaery tries not to say things. And everyone seems to have something to say about their relationship. AN: The final addition to the robbaery drabbles in part i, and I’m already running ideas of more AUs for this pair. I’m hooked.

Margaery & Robb

It appears that Theon and Arya had found Robb in a less than favourable mood to share their opinions about his predicament with Margaery (and they swear they did not find out from Sansa). But, he’s resigned to keeping their company because his usual lunch date by the rugby pitch has clearly claimed him persona non-grata.

‘What I don’t get is why you would want to be a part of something so archaic,’ Arya tells her brother. ‘Robb, you used to tell Sansa to stop worrying about all these social events mum and dad forced us to attend. You were the one to tell her to not be a part of something so sexist, something that would parade girls in dresses for a prize of some strange guy’s attention.’

Theon does an exaggerated nod in agreement, and then takes a massive bite into his bacon butty, ‘-otally, mate. -otally awrkaic-’ He swallows to solemnly add, ‘But, that parade of sexiest dresses.’

As soon as she stops hollering at Jon to clobber the boy with the rugby ball down at the pitch, Arya elbows Theon to continue to speak to her brother, ‘Robb, are you going because of…’

Robb wonders if he is doing a good job of masking his embarrassment as they catch him and his coincidental spotting of Margaery across the pitch, passing by to get to what he knows is her last class of the day. Her eyes dart away as soon as she spots them, and she’s already turning the corner, her last trek to her class hidden behind the opposite bleachers, before he has the chance to look away himself. Judging by Theon’s snickering, he can tell that he’s not got a cat in hell’s chance in fooling the pair of them.

‘I’m only dropping off Sansa to her dance practices for the ball,’ he starts, but has to continue because both Theon and Arya wait for him to continue. ‘And I promised I’d help be her dance partner if hers wasn’t available.’

Theon and Arya share another look.

‘Arya, I thought you and mum were just visiting for the day,’ he grumbles into his own sandwich. ‘Shu’in ya be wi- her insteh-.’

‘I prefer giving you a hard time,’ she says, and steals one of his chips from his takeaway box, smiling as she chews on his food.

‘Great,’ Robb grouses, and tries to start giving her grief about her rumoured new friend, Godfrey, Gordon, Greg, or something or other (he purposely tries to save knowing it is Gendry to add to his sister’s annoyance).

‘You should give her all the space she needs, because time and perspective are the only remedies to heal a strained relationship.’

Robb and Arya’s bickering stops to whip their attention toward Theon and his words. Only Theon’s already started on his second meal, or Robb’s meal, and eats the rest of his chips, ignoring Robb’s irritated, ‘Oi!’

‘Where did you even come up with that?’ Arya’s eyes narrow in disbelief.

‘Wha-’ Theon shrugs. ‘I can’t come up with summat intelligent once and again.’

‘No,’ both siblings say in unison.

‘Am I wrong?’ Theon asks.

They try and fail to find a quip to shut him up, until Arya accuses him of reading Sansa’s Cosmopolitan magazines at their summer home. Theon shrugs again, repeating his last comment, and mumbling about having some competency to be able to read and look at scantily-clad women at the same time.

When Theon starts to list more quotes having nothing to do with Robb’s situation, and clearly more to do with annoying Arya, Robb can’t help but eye the trail that Margaery was last seen.

He’s not sure what possess him (or maybe he wants them to stop bickering too), but he admits aloud, ‘You’re not wrong.’

Margaery She nearly knocks over something solid, what she assumed was only a blur of grey and white flashing before her eyes. Greywind. She's only startled because she didn't expect anyone to find her here. Here, at an unfamiliar part of campus, where she planned to have her lunch away from prying eyes, she finds the hound trying to curl next to her makeshift picnic and sidles next to her crossed legs. He sniffs at her knee, licks it there, and peers up at her with his imploring, amber-coloured gaze. Ignorant to look about for his owner, someone she had been actively avoiding all week, she smiles and reaches to scratch at the back of his ears. Expectant, she tilts her head up to greet Robb approaching them with a reluctant, 'Hiya...y'arite?' 'You play dirty, Stark,' she says, attention and affections back to Greywind. 'I swear, I knew you needed space. I only took Greywind for a walk, you know he's not needed a leash for years, so--' She shakes her head, smirking impishly at him then. 'Relax, I'm glad you two found me.' He lights up at this, and it surprises her how much it eases her, that she's relieved that he's not furious with her for a number of reasons and unanswered texts. She gestures for him to sit, eyeing his awkward shifting stance. Her smile turns gentle when he finally sits next to her and her half eaten bento box, and because Robb’s giving her a look that she hasn’t seen in a week (the one that she’s tried to tell him makes his eyebrows look downright devious when they cock and crease this way), her smile widens even as she tries to bite it down. 'You're not cross?' He adjusts his light blue oxford shirt so its sleeves do not keep unraveling from their folding. And she fights the urge to adjust it too, as a force of habit, of course. 'I need to apologize, I was being a real bitch the other day,' she admits, gravely. ‘I can’t believe I said all those things about you. You know I know how you feel about your dad, and how much pressure you’ve been under. That was uncalled for.’ He attempts to shake his head to certainly lessen her blame, but she continues, 'Robb, you have been one of if not my sole closest friend since I broke up with Joffrey. I should've reacted with a lot more sympathy about Jeyne.' 'S’alright,' he shrugs. 'No,' she says, adamantly. 'I--I hadn't told you that my parents were going through a divorce since the beginning of the summer, just before graduation. The day you told me about Jeyne, I think something just imploded in me. I couldn't handle another emotional conversation on the same day my dad told me about finalizing the divorce with my mum.' 'Margaery, I'm so sorry,’ he says earnestly, but a silence follows her admissions that he can't seem to follow up. He absently starts stroking Greywind's back, as they sit together in their thoughtfulness. 'It started when my parents were fighting more and more, more than they used to at least, then sleeping in separate rooms, and finally speaking about their prenuptial agreements.' She finds herself scoffing, laughing humourlessly as she continues to explain, 'I idolized my parents for so long. I wanted to be like the princesses that me and Sansa would play pretend when we were younger because my father treated my mother like one. And Joffrey treated me the same for awhile. Then, the fine dining and the trips across Westeros stopped, and the things Joffrey did behind my back or the things he did in front of me started...' She stops for a beat and continues again. 'The thing is, I am well over Joffrey, and I feel like I’m starting to move past mourning over my parents’ relationship. But, I’m still hurting.' 'This might seem like the worst thing that could happen. And it might be,' he starts boldly, as if he is negotiating something happy about this news. 'But, maybe this means your parents will be happier for it.' 'We're nearly broke,' she says so quiet he has to bend to hear her. 'Loras caught my dad trying to access his trust fund. That's why my mum is leaving, because we're apparently useless to her without money.' Robb is silent again, finding no silver lining this time. 'Fuck, that part is fucked too. But, something else, as well,' she tries to breathe evenly through her tears. 'I know it sounds crazy, and completely selfish, but I've been acting distant toward everyone, and you, because I knew it meant I didn't have to admit all of this out loud. If I said it all out loud, it would feel real. And it does now. I guess, I wasn't ready to give up on feeling like a princess yet.' 'It's not crazy, it's not crazy to want to mourn another huge part of your life,' he says, and she's thankful that he is simply listening instead of feeding her lines of wishy-washy hope. Greywind whines at the loss of their attention, and it's only because they still at the way their hands brush against each other. She retrieves her hand back, and wipes the last traces of her tears mingling with mascara running down her cheeks. Then, she smiles as though she's finally done straining with something heavy, and she hopes this tells him she's fine, or will be fine, and that she's grateful most of all. 'I know you care about me, Robb. I know because you always let me tease you, argue with you, and go on and on about things I'm fairly sure you could give two shits about. But, mostly because you're letting me ramble about this too. You've been so lovely.' 'Of course, you have me, for anything you need,' he tells her seriously, but soon quirks up a small smile to add, 'as long as I don't have to hide behind any bookcases or in your closet if anyone asks about us.' She chuckles weakly, and nods to agree, 'You have me too, if you need to talk...about anything.' 'There is...' If there is something else Robb needs to tell her, since dumping all this extremely charged news on him might be spurring other alarming confessions, it somehow does not come. Her stomach, she hadn't realized, had been clenching from the anticipation. She feels herself sigh visibly when he doesn't say anything. She sees him deflate too, though she's not sure he is quite as relieved as she is because of this. Greywind jolts to action, as if to strike out the silence. He's on his feet, leaping and barking at a passing, scurrying bird, startling both of them out of their silent inaction. Robb scolds him to calm down, but Margaery is already busying herself with tidying her lunch and book bag. 'I'm knackered and not interested in hearing that bint of a economics professor go on about useless anecdotes that have nothing to do with economics. Walk me home?' She gathers her remaining things together, and whistles for Greywind's attention, kissing his forehead when he lopes over to her. For now, she sees Robb's bubbling up of words dissipate, and his heavy gaze with it. He eventually lifts himself up and offers her his hand to stand. For now, she sees him forfeiting to the comfort of her accepting his hand. 'Hey,' he tries, barely, to suppress puffing out his chest. He nudges her as they walk together, ‘You think I’m lovely.’ She nudges back harder, rolling her eyes, 'When you’re not trying so hard.'

Robb

Dickon Tarly is clearly Randyll Tarly’s favourite son, and a favourite for many other reasons if the many socialite eyes on him show as much. Robb’s known for years that his own family name carries weight among these society functions, but it is something entirely different when he sees the Southern families gravitate toward each other. So, it comes to no surprise to him that Dickon leads Margaery into the debutante waltz with a confidence that catches the attention of both of her parents at the King’s Season’s last dance rehearsal. In fact, Dickon has certainly gained favour from Mace Tyrell, as he spies them sharing a firm handshake after the first dance, the older man flitting joyful eyes between the young couple before him.

And they do look like an idyllic pair, both sharing similar brunette locks, and bright, brown eyes. Margaery, he’s noticed not for the first time today, looks especially pretty with her hair tied up in the way she mentioned she’d dress up for the ball, with tiny rose buds weaved into her pinned curls.

‘Robb .’ Sansa grabs his arm, exasperated.

He is trying, and failing to help an irate Sansa (replacing her own escort since he’d been nursing a hangover into the late afternoon), but he keeps apologizing for his own two left feet. It’s when he continues to watch Alerie Tyrell laughing, eyes glittering at something Dickon’s sharing with her, that Margaery comes to them and finally takes his attention away while she asks to borrow him from his sister. She’s asking for him to listen to her counting the steps, which helps some.

‘Alerie seems to be enjoying herself,’ she observes tersely, before she whisks him across the hall at the dance instructor’s direction, and straightens his back as they move along.

‘You haven’t talked to your mum at all today, have you?’ He only means to be concerned.

She only gives him a sharp glare, before pushing his feet farther apart, which allows him not to trip over himself in the next few steps. ‘And you haven’t spoken to your father about your planning on quitting the internship.’

He ignores this, and the paranoia of his own parents watching them, so he comments, ‘So, Dickie’s taking you to the debutante ball. That’s...expected.’ It sounds wrong even as he voices it out loud, and after their reconciliation in the past week, he knows he should not be saying such things.

Her glare turns amused, ‘So, you haven’t noticed the pack of wolves swarming you since they heard about your breakup with Jeyne? Have you checked your back pocket during the changing of partners through the waltz?’

Robb pauses a beat to pinch through his back pocket of his slacks for a piece of folded paper.

‘Myrcella thinks Sansa’s brother would appreciate her phone number. You know, for a shoulder to cry on.’

Margaery is smirking, and he doesn’t think this bothers him that much until he doesn’t hesitate to ask, ‘If I call her, would you mind?’

He’s watching her reaction, and it’s his turn to feel amused, even though he’s trying his best to ignore the steady ramping up of beats thrumming in his chest.

‘You can do whatever you want.’ She does not meet his eyes then. ‘And if you would just do what makes you happy, you could finally quit yer whinging. Really, Robb, we’d all feel better for it. Your father, for one, would want you to be happy.’

The thrumming reaches his ears now, and it’s useless to ignore his inner pleading for her to look his way. ‘I’m happy...right now...’

The music had long stopped, he realized, before their feet caught up to this cue. In his periphery, he can spot his family, hers, and Dickon looking on, and he wonders if they can tell the tense way both he and Margaery are holding themselves after his confession. Margaery lets go first, and he’s left to pocket his hands, smiling weakly before signalling for her to look to her actual dancing partner.

She does. But, he swears, the only thing that gives his thrumming heart pause is her own pause at taking Dickon’s hand back for the final dance.

And that thrumming doesn’t leave him. After trying to walk off the gnawing energy from the rehearsal, he finds himself possessed, moving farther and farther away from home without redirection. He realizes that his feet have taken him all the way to the front door of Margaery’s apartment complex, and he’s not stopping himself from buzzing for her flat number.

He comes to when she answers her door, only dressed in an oversized sweater and knee-high socks, her long brown hair let down from its previous curls and pins. He knows that his undone, formal attire does not look as good as her own. He must look in distress, and he’s sure she’s eyeing the way he’s been compulsively running his hands through his waxed down curls, most likely looking a winded mess.

When she invites him in, some of the unease and rapid beating settles, if only to assume that he’s not interrupting Dickon being with her. A quick scan of her space gives way for a sigh when he’s nowhere to be seen.

‘I’ve been walking around for what feels like hours, going over and over this problem,’ Robb tells her.

She’s stalk still.

‘Maybe there’s a reason why we were hiding what we meant to each other from everyone.’

She remains mute.

‘Could it be that we’re both thinking the same thing, but won’t admit it because of, what, bad timing? Expectations from your parents?’

‘I’m not with Dickon for my parents, he’s just an escort for the ball,’ she says plainly. ‘Believe it or not, I confided in you when I was at my lowest, but that doesn’t mean I want the same things anymore--’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ He comes closer, closing the distance between them with inches to spare.

Margaery doesn’t seem to mind, though she can’t seem to speak over his interruption as she’s easily done before. ‘What I mean to say is that you’re allowed to do whatever you want to do. And do that thing you keep telling me to do, which is be happy. If you are happy with Tarly, then that’s fine. But, if there is a small chance that we’ve been avoiding this...this thing between us...then, I need to know.’

Her silence keeps giving him the impression that she’ll be throwing him out any minute now. Yet, she’s swaying, appealing for the space toward him instead of pulling back.

‘You need to know if we’re not going mad, and that there is a chance for...us,’ she finally offers.

‘Us,’ he repeats lamely, wondering if he’ll continue to be articulate if she continues to at least entertain his thoughts.

‘So...’ She straightens her back, as if bracing herself. ‘Kiss me.’

He’s almost thrown by her firm proposal, but not altogether surprised by her. ‘Only if you want--’

And she’s on tip-toe before he finishes, her lips meeting his. Her faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, the last thing he remembers before he closes his eyes to be lost in the impossible softness of her kiss. The sweet, flowery parfum he’s seen her dot along her collarbone, now in his deep inhaling breath.

‘Robb…’

It really is a quick kiss, though. As swift as it came, it goes. She says his name again, and he comes out of the haze of the surrealness of what they had just done.

He still feels her touch on his lips when they part, acutely conscious of this when he answers her, ‘Marge, listen. You don’t have to give me an answer right now. I just needed you to know how I feel, which is that I feel happiest when I’m with you. But, I’m not going to make you decide what you feel right now, not after what happened between us when I tried to force you to confront all of this the first time or how I nearly ambushed you all over again, rehashing everything in front of our families.’

She must be mulling over this as well, because she slowly nods.

‘But, I can’t say I regret telling you, or that kiss.’

Her silence must mean something, but he leaves it up to his theories in the dead of the night, when he will most likely find himself alone with his thoughts. This, and the way she closes the door to him before he leaves, not quite shut or open, before he walks down her long corridor makes him wonder if she would be thinking of him tonight as well.

Margaery

After the first time, she’d thought there would be some finesse to her ignoring Robb.

Although she agreed to take time away from him (only a few days, she promised him), she’s convinced she’s gone mad, seeing him practically everywhere she turns. She sees him coming out of his morning class wearing his father’s tweed jacket, the one she’s told him does not (no matter how many times he’s explained to her) make him look more mature or collegiate for meetings with his professors. She sees him eating his favourite fish and chip meal from the tiny shop around the corner from the student parking lot. She even sees him at their favourite cafe, where she’s sure Myrcella has coincidentally found him, making him seemingly amused at something she’s said. His winning smile is still there, effortless like everything else that he tries on, when Margaery wills herself to not storm into the cafe to cut into their conversation.

‘You really like him, don’t you?’ Sansa states this more than she asks, her eyes are practically sparkling at the notion in the midday sun. Robb’s sister has dragged her to one of those trendy restaurants, the kind that serves their entrees on newspapers over cutting boards. She even giggles at the waiter taking their second drink order by taking her pinned note on a washing line.

‘Shush you,’ Margaery tuts, but doesn’t deny it.

‘Admit it, you’re thinking of him right now.’

Margaery still doesn’t admit a thing, but certainly accuses her of being creepily invested in her brother’s love life, but it doesn’t stop Sansa from reminding Margaery of squandering her time to let Robb know how she feels.

She also attempts to remind Margaery of what kind of summer holiday she would have had if not for her brother. Though Margaery doesn’t need reminders, she knows that she wouldn’t have endured the summer the way she had if it hadn’t been for the Starks, for Robb’s unfailing kindness. For the way he makes her laugh, even if it’s at her own expense. For the sincere way he tells her that she is incredible and good . She feels those words, the way they warm and settle in her chest.

‘You know, he told our dad about quitting the internship. He really did it, and it’s not from any of our family’s ideas or pushing. We all know how Robb’s been fearless about anything he’s come up against, but where do you think he got that courage to do the only thing that actually scares him?’

She knows Sansa is aware that this stirs something in her. That warm feeling spreads rapidly, and it almost overwhelms her.

‘Your meal on newspaper is here,’ Margaery tries to diffuse this conversation and her nerves.

For now, Sansa is momentarily distracted by her drink order, with its gradient of coloured liquor and multiple umbrellas.

Margaery & Robb

Summer of 2010

Catelyn attempts to fix a serious look to her son, but her lips quiver slightly, and Robb openly rolls his eyes at his mum. Ned would often comment about their nonverbal conversations, amused. Sometimes, he would say, he’d be rather jealous of their connection.

To add to his humiliation, she comes around their kitchen island they sit around to ruffle his hair. At nine-years-old, he feels entitled to an apology from her. He’s old enough now to warrant her to take him with actual seriousness.

‘Come now, Robb.’

‘Fine, it’s Margaery.’

She appears to humour him, and actually sits beside him on the other kitchen stool, the dirty dishes she meant to clean are left forgotten.

‘Yes, Sansa says she’s inconsolable.’

‘She’s mad. She screamed at me even when I politely asked her what was wrong. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but her and Sansa were yelling beside my bedroom door.’

‘She is a rather willful girl, isn’t she?’

‘She’s also a sore loser at board games. Did you see her yell at Jon for winning over her last night?’

‘And now your sunny afternoon is ruined because of her? Robb, the sun and warmth are a rarity in the North, you should just ignore her. She’s only here for another week, love, and most of that time is spent with Sansa and her friends. Soon, she’ll be gone until next summer.’

‘Even Loras is in a sour mood, and we were meant to be playing football in the pitch dad prepared for us today, but she probably got him in a right mood too, because he’s doesn’t want to play. Now, he’s leaving with his dad tomorrow morning, and we’re stuck with her.’

This time, he looks up to see something dawn on her mum’s eyes, like she’s only just thought of something. ‘Yes, Loras is going to spend the rest of his summer in the South with his father.’

‘Couldn’t he have taken her instead,’ Robb mumbles as he lies his head in his folded arms, eyes down.

His mum pokes the side of his head, and she smiles to see him peering up at him with the same bright blue eyes as hers. She looks ready to tell one of her stories, with a warm smile spreading across her face. He decides he wouldn’t mind his mum continuing, she tells the best stories, after all.

‘Do you remember when Jon first came to our family? You were only five then, and you didn’t understand why he came to us, but, you welcomed him like he was your own brother. And when you grew old enough to know we lost your Aunt Lyanna and Uncle Rhaegar in the car accident the night before he came to us, you were even closer to him because of this understanding. You’ve been inseparable since then.’

Robb’s brows crease, as if he were trying to connect the threads of a bigger story he’s sure his mum is weaving.

‘But, there was a time when you had felt badly--’

Robb shakes his head so rapidly that his curls whip as a blurry, fiery halo.

‘Not badly, but almost cold. That time your father took Jon camping without you. It was always your favourite trip with your father.’

‘Oh,’ Robb agrees finally, embarrassed. ‘But, only because...because…’

She quickly pecks the top of her son’s head and continues, ‘You were young, and you didn’t realize that he was only gone for a weekend, not forever like you wept about. When they came back you didn’t speak to both of them for the whole day they came back.’

Something washes over Robb’s eyes, not unlike the realization that his mum went through. He’s sheepish to admit, ‘I was jealous, I thought dad was leaving us, and that he didn’t want to be my dad anymore, but wanted Jon as a son instead.’

‘But, your father finally explained that he needed to speak to Jon about the horrible week he had at school, horrible bullying if you remember that incident with Ramsay. He only meant to keep it between them in case he was feeling sensitive about it all.’

‘I was being…’

‘You weren’t foolish, you were just reacting to a fear.’ Catelyn rubs small circles over her sons’ back. ‘Do you see that fear in a certain moody someone?’

‘She’s jealous of Loras?’

‘Mace loves all his children, Robb. But, sometimes grownups aren’t always good at explaining why they do the things they do. Your father was much better after that day of hunting with Jon, when I spoke to him. But, sometimes, there are grownups that aren’t good at explaining themselves...at all. Mace has never shied away from favouring the boys in their family, and I’m surprised Margaery has only started to feel this way. Poor girl, only has her grandmother on holiday breaks to make her feel better about herself.’

His mum, who rarely speaks ill will about anyone, doesn’t tell him this lightly. In fact, she looks almost nervous to be saying so. She trusts him, he thinks, with such a big confession, because she respects he’s old enough to know this. Pride swells in his chest, and it overpowers the other feelings he has. That’s why Robb swallows the anger he feels for Margaery, and only nods.

And he truly is angry for her. She may be a bit annoying, especially when Sansa and her try to get them to play pretend being at a ball as princesses and princes. She may have stomped on his foot when he mistepped during the pretend ball dance. She may find ways to consistently trick Jon into giving her all the sweets their parents had given him after dinner. But, then, he remembers how stormy, how low her eyes had gotten when she yelled at him for asking about playing football with Loras. He knows the deep, dark fears he felt that day his dad left for camping, no matter how irrational it turned out to be in the end. Worse still, he wonders if Margaery will ever feel the relief that he did when his dad comforted him.

‘Do you understand?’ Catelyn asks.

Robb finds that his mum’s words are the first thing that come to him when Margaery barks him out of his reverie. His feet have brought him to the grove of weirwood trees in Winterfell Manor’s vast back garden.

‘Has Sansa made you come?’ Margaery, eyes red and puffy, barks again.

‘No, erm, actually. I came by myself.’

She’s still suspicious, 'Okay...'

‘I have something to tell you.’ Robb sits next the weirdwood tree she’s under, and smiles gently.

‘Oh?’

He scoots a little closer, even as her eyeing becomes more and more dubious of him. ‘Just promise you won’t yell at me until after I tell you my story.’

She bites her lip, possibly to stop from looking amused, and her rolling eyes and dismissive nod is all he needs to tell her about his dad, Jon, and himself.

Present day, The King's Season Debutante Ball

‘I would,’ a girl fixing her long sleeve gloves shamelessly says in a whisper that’s not at all concealed to Margaery’s ear, and eyes Robb up and down in his black tux.

The girl, he assumes is one of Margaery’s acquaintances, considering the wrinkling of Margaery’s nose. Luckily, she moves to other side of the hall. Most of the other girls in ball gowns do the same to gather their escorts for the announcement ceremony, his sister among them. It leaves Margaery and Robb standing by decorative curtains partially hiding the awkward stances they hold.

She must catch the way his eyes trail over her, the same way the girl had done to him, because she finally speaks.

'Take a picture, Stark, it'll last longer.' She even twirls to show that the fabric of her long, pale blue gown, that hugs closely to her curves, also floats in folds of cascading silk as she moves.

‘You know this already, Marge, but, you look beautiful.’

The only solace he has from his chaotic nerves is that he can clearly see that she's just as worried by their reunion since sharing their first kiss as he is. He can tell as much from her still clutching at the cascades of silk from his persistence in openly looking at her this way, leaving her uncharacteristically less sharp in replying.

He still doesn't avert his gaze, and it makes him let out a surprised puff of amusement when she finally relents, 'You know, if you didn't clean up so well, I'd find it far easier to not have to admit what I'm about to admit.'

'Admit what?' Inside his chest is thrumming with the familiar speedy rhythm from when he visited her flat not days ago, and outside he smiles in earnest hope.

'Admit that I've been avoiding what we meant to each other because I was scared that you'd be another person I might lose, a true friend. But, I also want to admit that I don't want you just as a friend, but more...and I'm happiest with you too.'

He comes closer, watching her reaction with a surge of confidence as her breathing hitches at his hands moving to hold hers. She lets go of her dress.

'Any other urgent confessions?'

He feigns a dramatic, surprised look on closer inspection of her, 'You know, on second thought...'

She smacks at his chest with an open hand.

'I'd like to kiss you again,' he says softly, as if he were thinking out loud.

'I'd let you,' she tells him, tilting her head up to him.

Her kiss opens up to him this time, sure and wanting. He responds in kind, moving his lips over hers as if he were making up for the passion he wished he would've shown before. With his hands tying her closer, cinching her waist to be flush against him, he is sure he would stay rooted here until someone would pry them apart. Even Margaery’s fingers weave deeply into his hair, seemingly to tell him she’s wanting to settle too.

Then, he faintly hears Margaery’s name being called, like the mantra in his own thoughts, but he realized that he’s definitely not thinking out loud this time. It’s the master of ceremonies’ voice, with a tone of bewilderment, which they find has absolutely to do with Dickon Tarly and how debutante-less he appears at the top of the staircase on the other side of the hall.

‘What am I going to do about you?’ She jokes, pecking him quickly on the lips before she shuffles in her dress to get them moving, making sure they are still hidden behind curtains and pillars and whatever else might do.

It’s hard to stop himself from grinning madly, before answering, ‘Follow your lead, even if it isn’t a dance.’

‘You are used to it by now,’ she quips, eyes bright with unmistakable happiness. She points to where his family sits with the crowds all seated for the halted ceremony, and giggles at him stumbling when his mum nearly spots them.

End.

#robbaery #robb stark x margaery tyrell #robb stark #margaery tyrell #got fanfic

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softperson · 6 years

Text

The Perfect Blend

Summary: You hate coffee but the cute barista keeps you coming back to the coffee shop every day.

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader {Barista!AU}

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.1k

The wind was sharp and cold, whipping across your exposed cheeks as you trudged through the snow making your way towards the small coffee shop on campus. You let out a sigh in relief when you walked through the doors of the cozy little shop and the warmth of the heaters filtered through your frozen fingers. The heavenly smell of caffeine sent a shock through your system, waking you up properly. You checked your watch and smiled a little that you were on time, 6:30am.

The coffee shop was small but almost always packed to the brim with people. At this early hour there wasn’t much people, and you preferred it that way. You always tried to make it between 6 and 6:30 so you could mentally prepare yourself for your 7am lecture, and so you could stare at the cute barista. He always had the morning shift and it was extra incentive for you to come on time. He was actually proving to be a good distraction for you, getting you to class on time and all.

You shook the snow out of your hair and patted it down, hoping you looked at least somewhat presentable before you spoke to the handsome boy at the register. He was the only one there until 7:30 when two other workers came in, and you enjoyed the time you got to watch him in his element, crafting cappuccinos, whipping up lattes, and making foam art. He always looked so carefree and happy doing it, the contagious smile never leaving his handsome face.

However, the truth was you’d never actually said more than a few words to Jaehyun. The majority of those being your order and a ‘thank you’ when you collected it. The reason being, you were a lot of things but delusional was not one of them. Jaehyun was one of the most popular boys at your college, everyone knew him, he was the captain of the basketball team, Kinesiology major, part-timer at the coffee shop, helpful, kind, smart and gorgeous. You knew you didn’t stand a chance, this was the closest you’d ever get to him so you took it.

“One small, black coffee please,” you placed your order, grateful that you didn’t stutter this morning. It happened more often that you’d like to admit considering that you were a Communication major.

Jaehyun looked up smiling at you so brightly that his eyes were almost invisible. “No milk and no sugar, right?” he asked as he scribbled your name on a cup. You nodded mutely, still internally swooning over his smile.

Jaehyun glanced at you and noticed a few stray snowflakes in your hair, he wanted so badly to just brush them away, but he knew that would be highly inappropriate and weird since you two barely had a proper conversation. He was familiar with you now, since you came in every morning at the same time and ordered the exact same thing. He wasn’t even sure why you did either because he caught you on multiple occasions taking a few sips of the coffee and then dumping it.

You slid your money over to him and snatched your hand back a little too quickly when his warm fingers brushed your cold ones. You mumbled a quick apology, your face burning up in embarrassment and you quickly moved down the counter to wait for your coffee.

Jaehyun turned away quickly after cashing for your drink so you wouldn’t see his pink cheeks. He was taken aback by the fact that he was actually blushing, sure he’d had a crush on you for a while but you paid literally no attention to him apart from ordering your coffee and you never tried to initiate any conversation apart from that, even on the occasions when it was just the both of you in the shop. He sighed quietly and busied himself with making your coffee.

“Idiot,” you muttered to yourself, just wanting to facepalm onto the counter right then and there.

“Who is?” came a voice from next to you making you jump in surprise.

You jumped and covered your mouth to withhold the shriek that almost escaped. “Oh my god Sicheng! You scared me!” you told the boy standing next to you, you hadn’t even noticed him there when you came in. He was in one of your foundation courses, and he was friends with Jaehyun. It was much easier to talk to the cute transfer student from China, than it was to talk to your actual crush even though they were quite close.

“Sorry, but you still didn’t answer me,” Sicheng laughed and reached out to pluck the few melting snowflakes out of your hair.

Jaehyun looked over at just that moment and froze as he watched you laugh and thank Sicheng for taking the snow out of your hair. He gulped feeling a pang in his chest at that, maybe he should’ve just talked to you first. He was so preoccupied with watching you with Sicheng that he didn’t notice the hot water spilling over and onto his hand until it burned him. He hissed and bit his lip, quickly opening the tap to run some cold water over the angry, red blotch on his hand.

“I was talking about myself, I made a fool of myself as usual,” you sighed glancing at Jaehyun, frowning when you saw him washing his hand it seemed, under the tap.

Sicheng looked between you and his friend and grinned, “You could just talk to him, he doesn’t bite, I promise he’s nice.”

“I’m not doubting that he is, but I’ll just make a fool of myself again— wait, is it that obvious?!” you gasped in mortification.

“Yes y/n, a blind man can see that you’ve got a big, fat, crush on Jaehyun,” came another voice that butted into the conversation from Sicheng’s side.

You quickly reached over and slapped a hand over the loud-mouthed boy’s lips. “Shut up Yuta!” you hissed, glancing back to make sure Jaehyun didn’t hear anything. You were glad to see him busy and back to making orders for a couple people.

“Just saying,” Yuta shrugged when you removed your hand.

Jaehyun came over with three cups, giving two to Yuta and Sicheng first before handing you the last one. Your eyes widened when you saw the red mark on his hand, no doubt from a burn. It wasn’t there just a few minutes ago when you placed your order so that meant that he got it between then and now. You put the coffee down and grasped his hand in yours, “What happened?!” you gasped, forgetting all about the other two boys who were standing there with sly smirks on their faces.

Jaehyun’s unoccupied band came up to the back of his neck, rubbing it as he looked down. “Nothing, just a small accident,” he mumbled, thinking about how nice and soft your smaller hands felt grasping his.

“We’ll be going now,” Sicheng told you both, but neither you nor Jaehyun paid any attention to him. Yuta was about to protest about wanting to stay and see what happened but Sicheng grabbed one of the straps of his backpack and pulled him along out of the shop.

You frowned running your thumb gently across the expanse or burnt skin, until it dawned on you what you were doing and just whose hand you were holding. You quickly let go of his hand, staring at him wide-eyed, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! You should put some ice on that!” you gushed out quickly, your entire face red from embarrassment. You didn’t bother to even pick up your coffee when you zoomed out of the shop, leaving Jaehyun flabbergasted.

He watched you fly out the door and out of his line of sight in record time frowning at your behaviour. You were so hard to read, one minute you were holding his hand so gently, the next you were gone. He looked down at your abandoned coffee and frowned noticing a pair of bright pink gloves next to it. He picked them up and put them in his pocket, the dimpled smile making its way back onto his face. Your small moment of forgetfulness in your rush to get away was finally his reason to talk to you.

Your mind was running a mile a minute, replaying the incident from awhile ago over and over, it was driving you insane. Your lecturer’s voice was just background noise in your busy mind, you hadn’t been able to retain a single thing said in the class since it began almost an hour ago. Slamming your book shut, you shoved it into your back and exited the classroom via the back door. It was obvious that you weren’t going to be able to pay attention to anything else for the day so you headed toward the library.

The cute library assistant, Doyoung, smiled at you as you walked in. He was used to seeing you there and you’d both studied together quite a bit last semester since he shared one of your classes. Doyoung had an admirable work ethic and you appreciated that a lot so even now when you didn’t have anymore classes together, you always sought him out as a study partner whenever he was available.

Your friends always teased you about how cute you would be together, the perfect “nerd couple,” but you shrugged them off knowing that Doyoung had eyes for someone else, and you were way too caught up in the dimpled boy from the coffee shop. Now you wished that it wasn’t so, and you and Doyoung did like each other. It would’ve been way simpler, and you wouldn’t have made a total fool of yourself like you did this morning with Jaehyun. You sighed plopping unceremoniously into a chair in a secluded corner of the library.

A shadow came over the pages of the book you were leafing through and you looked up, meeting Doyoung’s frowning face. “What is it?” you asked him.

He looked down at you and frowned even more for a few seconds before answering, “I think I should be asking you that, your book is upside down.”

You tore your eyes away from his and looked down at the book that was indeed upside down. You quickly fixed your blunder and grinned sheepishly at him. “I’m having a weird day.”

“I can see that, I’ll be off in half hour if you want to talk,” he said, and you didn’t even have time to answer him as he was walking halfway down two bookcases already.

_____________________

Another sigh escaped your mouth, that was three in the past two minutes. Doyoung glared at you irritably, “Are you going to talk or not? I’m not going to waste my precious free time if you aren’t.”

You glared back at him picking at your snack, “I didn’t ask you to, you offered,” you muttered but continued anyway. “I made a complete fool of myself in front of Jaehyun this morning,” you sighed dropping the potato chip back into the pack.

Doyoung rose an eyebrow and made a motion for you to elaborate. You spilled and told him the entire embarrassing story, heaving another heavy sigh when you were finished.

“So…you think you blew your chance?” he asked looking at you.

You pouted and nodded, “He probably thinks I’m the biggest loser ever. Girls throw themselves at him all the time, he probably thinks I’m just another one of them now,” you whine miserably.

“Is that why he’s standing outside the window peeking in here?” Doyoung asked you, nodding towards the window of the practically empty lecture hall you two were occupying.

“He what?!” you shrieked turning around so fast you swore you felt something pull in your neck.

The moment the aforementioned boy saw you turn to face him, he ducked out of view. You barely saw the flash of honey coloured hair as he moved behind the wall. Why was he even there? To make fun of you? The thoughts that swarmed your mind were less than pleasant and you felt the familiar burning in your nose and throat.

Doyoung’s eyes widened when he saw your eyes get watery, “Wow y/n, calm down,” he told you, looking quite similar to a scared bunny, it almost made you giggle.

“It’s not that deep, Jaehyun is a nice guy, there isn’t even a bad rumor about him,” Doyoung awkwardly patted your shoulder.

“What if he tells everyone? Oh God, I’m going to die of humiliation,” you half sobbed, burying your face in your hands.

“Look, even if he is let’s say displeased by what happened, he would never humiliate you, give it a few days and you’ll see he’ll forget all about it,” Doyoung said, offering the kind of comfort only he could.

You shook your head then nodded, “Thanks Doyoung.”

_________________

You spent the next four days purposefully avoiding the coffee shop and anywhere else that you might run into Jung Jaehyun or his friends. So far you were successful in evading them all but of course the universe could never be too kind for too long. The moment you stepped foot into the library you were accosted by the same boy you’d taken inconvenient measures all week to avoid.

“Y/n, can we talk?” Jaehyun asked you quietly, adhering to the rules of the library. You glanced behind him and saw Doyoung inconspicuously making his way over to the returns shelf closer to the both of you, you shook your head slightly amused.

“Now? I’m kind of busy,” you replied turning your attention back to Jaehyun, trying your best to avoid the undoubtedly awkward conversation that would probably follow.

“It won’t take long,” he said looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes that made your stomach do a backflip. “Please.”

Your head nodded automatically before your brain could even catch up, and soon he was leading you out the door.

Jaehyun stood next to you, looking down at his feet and biting his lip. You frowned a little feeling both nervous and agitated, you rather get the humiliation over with quickly.

“What do you want?” you snapped, and you realized it came out much harsher than you had intended when the boy looked up at you wide-eyed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you quickly tried to correct yourself.

“No no, it’s fine, you probably think this is really weird but--,” he held out his hand to you and you frowned in confusion when you saw a bottle of straight black coffee in his grasp.

“I…I don’t understand,” you frowned looking from the coffee to his face.

“You left your coffee that morning at the shop and you haven’t been there since and well, you paid for it, so I thought it was only fair for me to bring it to you,” he smiled showing off those heart-melting dimples.

Your heart soared at his consideration, you knew he was a nice guy but this was very unexpected, and very sweet. He didn’t even mention the events of that morning and you were more than thankful. You glanced at the coffee before taking it from his hand and thanking him.

“You really didn’t have to Jaehyun,” you smiled at him, “Is your hand better?”

He looked down at his hand where the burn had previously been and nodded, “It’s pretty much gone now.”

There was an awkward silence after that, neither of you knowing what to say to continue the conversation. The silence made you uncomfortable after a few moments and you decided to take your leave since there was clearly nothing left to say.

“Well uh, I’m going to go now, see you around,” you told him and turned to head back to the library.

Jaehyun grabbed your hand quickly, startling you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” you gasped coming to a halt.

“Well I didn’t just come by to give you the coffee, I really wanted to ask if you’d consider getting coffee with me sometime?” he asked, and you noticed the tips of his ears turning red.

Your shocked face was probably hard to mask at this point, was he asking you out? Did that mean he actually noticed you?

“You mean like…a date?” you asked, hoping you didn’t look too stupid if that wasn’t what he meant.

To your relief he nodded, “Yeah, uh, if you want to of course, no hard feelings if you don’t!”

“Yes, and no,” you answered grinning at his confused expression.

You looked down at the bottle of coffee in your hands and then back at him, “Yes to the date, no to the coffee,” you laughed. “You see…I actually hate coffee.”

Jaehyun looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “Are you serious? You came into the coffee shop every single day for the semester until four days ago and got coffee, every. single. day.”

A blush rose to your cheeks at his words, you had no choice but to spill the beans now, “The only reason I came in there was for you,” you mumbled looking down at your shoes.

Jaehyun’s smile widened even more when he heard you. Of course Yuta and Sicheng had told him all about this before but he refused to believe them because you seemed so aloof and immune to him unlike other girls. But hearing you say it yourself this time had him feeling over the moon.

“Guess what y/n…” came his voice, closer than you’d expected, and you looked up to see him standing very close and completely invading your personal space, and you didn’t mind one bit.

“I was supposed to leave the coffee shop job after a month into this semester, the only reason I stayed was because you came in everyday and I was hoping you noticed me too,” he grinned at you.

“Oh…OHhh, oh my god,” you blushed even more now, unable to look at him.

“Cute,” he laughed and poked your cheek, “Also, you’ve been ordering the worst thing on the menu, it’s no wonder you hate coffee, how about you give it a second chance, I’ll make you my own secret blend.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him now, “A secret blend?”

“The perfect blend,” he replied, reaching down and taking your hand.

You looked at your joint hands and smiled, a feeling of content blooming in your chest, “I’ll give the perfect blend a try.”

#jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #barista au #jaehyun scenario #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun

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lolcat76 · 7 years

Note

tell me about the first time Bill and Laura danced together in the quiet of one of their quarters

He heard the soft whoosh of the airtight seal closing hisquarters from the rest of the ship. Dee was gone, he was left alone with his modelship and the questions she’d raised.

Did he let them down? Maybe he did, lying about Earth. Itseemed like a good idea at the time – give the people something to believe.

There is no Earth.

He couldn’t tell if it was her voice, or if was hisimagination, until he saw her standing by his bookcase.

“I trusted you,” she said as she ran her fingertips over thespines of the books he’d packed and carried over 20 years of military service. “Couldn’tyou do the same for me?”

He huffed a breath and turned his attention back to the ship.“Apparently not.” The mast was a little loose. He brushed it with glue andpressed the sail to the staff.

“You’re mad because I told Kara the truth.”

“It wasn’t your place,” he reminded her.

She pulled a book off the shelf and settled onto the couchnext to him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her slightbody. Too skinny – how had he not noticed that in the last few weeks?

“Searider Falcon,” she said with a sigh. “I haven’t read thisin years.”

He looked over his shoulder. “You haven’t even finished DarkDay,” he said. “Are you really ready to borrow another book?”

“I don’t think it matters what we’re ready for anymore, Bill.It only matters what we’ve got.”

“We’ve got a fleet that’s falling apart, thanks to you,” hesnapped.

“Thanks to us,” she reminded him. “I may have broken my wordto you, but you did the same. Martial law, Bill? How is that working out foryou?”

Not so good. Civilian massacre, unrest throughout the fleet,a third of their ships jumped out to follow Laura and the stupid Arrow ofApollo.

Kara and Lee gone to follow Laura as well.

“Not so good,” he repeated, out loud this time. Might as well admit it out loud, evenif it was just to a figment of his imagination.

Laura flipped through the pages. “We’ve had worse,” she said.

“A Cylon almost killed me. That was pretty bad.”

She looked over her glasses at him. “You’re still standing.”

He was. Kind of shaky on a good day, but he was stillstanding. “And I can dance,” he reminded her. He held out his hand, and she putthe book down on his coffee table before placing her fingers in his.

Seemed silly to dance without music, but it seemed sillier todance with a figment of his imagination, so music was the least of his worries.

“You know what the best part of dancing is?” Laura whisperedinto his ear. “Two people figuring out how to move together in space and time.You have to trust your partner.”

“Maybe that’s where we went wrong,” he said.

She snorted. “I trust you. I don’t always like you, but Itrust you. I wouldn’t have let you throw me in the brig if I didn’t trust you’dlet me out again.”

“I didn’t let you out,” he pointed out.

“Well, you would have if circumstances hadn’t turned against us. I trusted you not to get yourself shot,” she said. “Thatwas my mistake.”

“You’re funny.”

She chuckled. “I am funny. Funnier than you can imagine here.”She nestled a little closer into him. “Maybe you could trust me enough to findthat out for yourself?”

Maybe he could.

***

She was still flushed from the impromptuceremony in the hangar bay. He was having a hard time reconciling what he knewabout her – that she was dying of cancer – with the woman who’d hiked throughunforgiving terrain and torrential downpours in a tailored pantsuit, and thewoman who looked so full of life sitting next to him. She had to be exhausted –he was exhausted – but she was still wide awake and sitting with her legscurled underneath her on his couch.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” shesaid.

He didn’t need to ask what she meant. “Yes, Idid.” Laura Roslin’s presidency had been met with disbelief and disdain; theleast he could do after very publicly humiliating her was to very publiclystand behind her with the full support of the military.

She picked up a book on the coffee table. NotSearider Falcon, but a book of poetry he’d been perusing before Dee had shownup in his quarters just a few days ago. She flipped through it idly, mouthingwords along with what she read. “Into darkness, you must fall,” she said. “Lords,Cauturus was depressing.”

“Isn’t poetry supposed to be depressing?”

“Not according to my syllabus,” she said, aproud smile brightening her features. “In my syllabus, people learned tostand, not fall.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re still standing.”

She studied him over her glasses, the same way his shadow Laura had stared at him, her smile turning wistful. “AndI can dance,” she said, so soft that he almost didn’t hear it. She stood andpadded in bare feet across his quarters to the wireless, and he didn’t evenbother to pretend that he wasn’t checking out her legs as she fiddled with thedial. She skipped through several stations of talk wireless until she foundsome jazz playing, then turned the volume up.

Laura Roslin, barefoot in his quarters, washolding out her hand to him. He met her halfway and pulled her to him. Withouther heels, she was just the right height to tuck her head into the curve of hisneck. He led her through song after song, dancing with her until the station gaveway to static, enjoying the solid feel of her in his arms, the scent of herhair and the silky feel of her hand tucked into his.

If this is what the fleet was fighting for, adance with a pretty woman who laughed when he spun her around and dipped her asthe song drew to a close, maybe humanity had a chance after all.

#lolcat fic #spaceparents fic #spaceparents #bsg #laura roslin #bill adama #janetfraiser

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illuminating-dragons · 7 years

Text

Dreams and Visions (10/51): Victoria Sails

Time Period: Victorian

Chapter Summary: Mycroft's got a case for Holmes and Watson. Or does he? This is set two weeks after 'The Worth Of A Wound'.

Read it on AO3

Note: Note: I hope I have made this as historically accurate as the internet (sans Bradshaw) allows me to be, and any liberties taken are entirely artistic (also we are in a world of dreamwalking gay detective-doctors, history may be rewritten a tad).

The telegram came early that morning. Holmes had just finished a hasty breakfast when Mrs. Hudson laid it on the table. “It’s from your brother, Mr. Holmes,” she said.

Curious, Holmes opened the telegram. “Come to Plymouth docks. Case for you. Wear your best. Bring Dr. Watson.” It was signed Mycroft, which meant that his brother was anxious yet happy. Odd.

“What is it, Holmes?” Watson was half-asleep, coming down the stairs without limping for the first time in two weeks. Lovely.

“Mycroft wants us to join him on a case.”

“Interesting…”

“In Plymouth.”

“You’re joking.”

“I am not.” Holmes held out the telegram and Watson examined it.

“What on earth is happening?”

“I’ve no idea. Look up the trains in Bradshaw, will you? Unless you don’t want to go,” Holmes added, suddenly concerned.

Watson waved his hand and smiled. “Mycroft going so far as Plymouth? Such a case must be highly interesting, or at the least dangerous. I refuse to let you go alone whichever is the case.”

Holmes shook his head fondly. “I’ll let Mrs. Hudson know.”

Thankfully they caught the early train, but it was still nearly supper time when they reached Plymouth. Holmes led Watson down to the docks, growing more puzzled by the moment. There were no obvious signs of political unrest, and the summer crowds made the town far more crowded than Mycroft liked. If his brother ever left London, he tended to retire to their old family home in the country. What on earth would possess him to come here, especially if he could simply send him and Watson?

Can’t make bricks without clay, Holmes.

Holmes spotted his brother the moment they reached the docks—a person of Mycroft’s stature tended to draw attention. Here, in a suit far better suited to Parliament than holiday making, he stuck out even more so than usual.

Mycroft smiled when he saw them. “Good afternoon Dr. Watson, Sherlock. Fine day, is it not?”

“Very,” Holmes agreed, still looking about for signs of trouble.

Mycroft shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “Why don’t you two get settled aboard? We’re nearly ready to cast off.”

Holmes looked up in surprise. A small clipper ship floated just beyond them, her name proudly emblazoned on the side, Victoria.

“Mycroft, is this your ship?” Watson asked with no small amount of confusion.

Mycroft nodded, pleased. “I don’t sail her often, but every now and then I enjoy the sea.”

Holmes stiffened. Something was wrong. It was entirely possible that Mycroft owned a ship, but clippers were more often used for trade than pleasure. Where were they going?

“Mycroft—”

“Sherlock.” His brother’s voice was mild but firm. “You and your friend should go aboard.”

Don’t question me, little brother.

Holmes got the message. “Come along, Watson,” he called.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting so long, gentlemen.”

Holmes glanced up. He and Watson had spent the last two hours exploring the ship and then attempting to find their bags, which had mysteriously disappeared from where they’d left them. A deckhand had finally told them that their belongings were safe but they weren’t to disturb the several locked rooms. It was enormously frustrating, and if Mycroft had not been aboard the ship Holmes would have taken Watson and escaped via on of the lifeboats.

Now Mycroft was heading towards them, looking immensely satisfied.

“Brother, what is going on?” Holmes snapped. “What is this case?”

Watson shot a glance at him, but Holmes was tired of waiting. “Why all the secrecy?”

Mycroft didn’t seem offended. “I couldn’t tell you until now because we hadn’t reached our destination.”

Holmes looked about, but he couldn’t see any sign of land, nor even another ship. “Which is where, exactly?”

“International waters,” Mycroft said calmly.

Watson raised his eyebrows. “And why is that necessary? Are we condoning a felony tonight?”

“Oh I expect more than one, if the two of you are amenable.” Mycroft’s eyes were twinkling. “You see, I wish to perform a marriage this evening.”

“And who are the lucky couple?” Holmes yawned, relieved. “Jack the Ripper and Amelia Sach?”

Mycroft merely stared at him until Holmes grew nervous.

Watson drew in a deep breath beside him. “Mycroft, you cannot possibly be serious. We can’t—”

Then Holmes understood.

“Are you insane, brother? We can’t—there’s no—”

“Both of you stop.” Mycroft’s gray eyes were steel. “We are far from judging eyes and laws. You are safe here, and why not take advantage of that?”

“A marriage between men will never be recognized!” Holmes spat. Then he remembered a pale man in the mist asserting the exact opposite.

“It will someday,” Watson said. He shared a look with Holmes, eyes raised, clearly thinking of the same night. “But Holmes is right, Mycroft, what is the point?”

“The point is for the two of you to have things that others in love may have!” Mycroft cried exasperatedly. “Perhaps only those of us onboard may know of it, but you will be bound together. I know that you both wish it, why not have it?”

Holmes opened his mouth, then let it close as he considered Watson. John. His John. He’d always hated the idea of marriage, but now that he had John…he’d thought more than once if he could place a ring on John’s finger he would, if only to show the world that he loved this man.

Watson was looking determinedly at the ground.

“John,” Holmes asked softly. “Do you want this?”

“Do you?” Watson asked, looking up.

“I don’t know if I’ll be a very good husband,” Holmes admitted as he reached out for his lover’s hand. “But if you’ll give me the chance I’d be grateful.”

Watson took his hand in his, stroking the long fingers tenderly. “I…yes, I think that would be lovely. I will be your husband, and I don’t care if only we know it.”

Mycroft nodded. “Then we’d better get in place, though that shouldn’t take long.”

Fear seized Holmes as the deckhand came up to them. Could this man be trusted? Then a wig was removed, a mask slipped to the side and Stanley Hopkins stood there grinning. “Good evening Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson,” he said happily.

Holmes stared at him, stunned and Watson laughed. “I would never have known it!” he said, shaking his head. He glanced up into the sails. “I see you now though, Wiggins! Who’s that with you?”

“Ross and Emma Lee,” Wiggins called back from his lofty perch. “Congratulations, Doctor!”

Holmes threw his hands up. “Who else is here?”

“Just two more, I think,” Mycroft replied, eyes twinkling in the fading light. Footsteps—Holmes groaned as he recognized the treads—announced the arrival of the final two wedding guests, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Watson was laughing as he stood, taking Holmes’ hand casually as they crossed the deck. “So you knew all along?”

“We’ve been planning for months,” Mrs. Hudson replied. She had her best dress on, and she looked ten years younger with her face wreathed in smiles. “I’m so pleased for you both, truly.”

Holmes considered Lestrade, who looked steadily back. “And you, Inspector?”

Lestrade shrugged. “I’ve known for years, Mr. Holmes. Besides, someone had to keep an eye on Hopkins.”

Hopkins looked like he wanted to protest, but kept his mouth shut.

“Shall we begin?” Mycroft asked a little impatiently.

Holmes looked at Watson, a little non-plussed.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, come here!” Watson dragged Holmes to stand by the mast. “Will this do, Mycroft?” he asked.

Mycroft strode over, the others following. “That should do nicely, John. Now we’ll have to make this quick, because I have a notion that my sailors want to see the whole thing.”

“Damn right we do!” Wiggins called from the sails.

“Get down then, so we can begin!”

Three pairs of feet hit the deck almost instantaneously.

Mycroft drew a small box from his pocket. “I know I didn’t give either of you much time for thought, but I also don’t know if the traditional vows quite work for this occasion.” Opening the box, he drew out two identical gold rings. He handed one to each of them.

Holmes stared at John, a lump coming into his throat. How could he put what he felt for this man into words? Even if he’d had a hundred years, he would never be able to say it exactly.

Then John smiled and Holmes knew exactly what he should say.

“John, I love you. I vow to stand by your side forever, no matter what challenges we face. I vow to cheer you in sad times, to comfort you in hard times and to rejoice with you in the good. I give you my heart, such as it is.” He slid the ring onto John’s waiting, trembling finger.

John cleared his throat. “Sherlock, I can offer you only my promise to be your partner in all our life together, whether we are hunting criminals or cleaning the bookcases. I love you…more than words can say.” He put Holmes’ ring on, voice thick with tears.

Mycroft raised his hands. “As the captain of this vessel the Victoria, I hereby pronounced these men married. Any who object are getting thrown overboard immediately.”

Holmes didn’t wait to hear the amused chuckles. He drew John close and kissed him tenderly.

Their rings would have to be hung on chains, there would be no photographs of the wedding supper (which was a shame, Mrs. Hudson dancing was a sight to see) and their only honeymoon would take place on the overnight trip back to London in a locked room with one double bed. Only seven other people would ever know what had happened that night. It would always feel like a dream.

But it didn’t matter, Holmes realized, and he could tell John knew it too. They were married now because they loved each other and they had a family who loved them enough to make a special effort to see them together. That was more than enough proof that it had happened.

And after all, dreams had always been good to them.

#sherlock fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock AU #johnlock #crossover with original canon #acme146 fanfiction #dreams and visions #sleeping on it 'verse #victorian marriage #hush it's wish fulfillment

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noirnorineko-blog · 7 years

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LETHAL | Mafia! Au | Jungkook X Reader | Smut | Part 1

Mature content ahead, sorry for any mistakes, and thanks for reading this!

You lived for those moments. The moments when you were one with darkness.The moments illuminated by the sparks of gunfire. The moments the jolt of the gun shot through your limbs. It was those moments, the moments in which you could very well take your final breath, that made you feel truly alive. Inside an abandoned furniture warehouse, you found yourself playing a hand in a twilight stand off. You and Taehyung had arrived at the deserted building just before 2am, which was when you had scheduled a meeting with one of your drug supplier's lackeys. It was a routine arrangement, but this time around, you had been very rudely interrupted. Taehyung and yourself were members of the Shadow Mob, an incredibly powerful Mafia family. You had been raised among dangerous men, and raised by one of the most dangerous men there was - Min Yoongi, head of the Shadow Mob, and your beloved uncle. That was how you found yourself in the moonlit warehouse, crouched behind a dusty sofa, reloading your gun. When the first gunshots had been fired, Taehyung had taken cover behind the large armchair a twenty feet across from where you were hidden behind at the present. His white blond hair almost liked white in the dim light, looking like a halo framing his head. A streak of moonlight lit up Taehyung's face, and you could see his expression. Cool, calm and collected. He continued firing shots at the opposition, completely unfazed by the sudden attack. As per usual, the 'opposition,' was members of the Ruby Mob, lead by the fearsome Park Jimin. Well, you didn't find him fearful - that was just how most people described him. Due to your upbringing, there was nothing that really frightened you. The Shadow Mob and the Ruby Mob had been enemies for hundreds of years, and you often wondered why the onslaught continued. But you neved questioned the matter, because God, you loved your life. After about three more minutes of gunfire, you fired the final shot which silenced the other side's activity, signalling you had taken down the last man. You and Taehyung hesitated for only a moment, the two of you breathing heavily, before moving back into the open. Automatically, you crossed the floor of the warehouse to where the body - or corpse, rather - of the man you were supposed to meet with laid crumpled. You stooped down, and plucked the black briefcase from his cold, lifeless fingers which were still feebly wrapped around its handle. You paused for only a moment, taking in his appearance. Shame he got shot, you thought absentmindedly, he was kind of attractive. You turned away from his unbreathing figure, and called out to Taehyung. 'Tae, who was it?' 'Na Jeongsan, Kim Kwang-sun and Lee Jinyoung,' Taehyung replied. They were all members of the Ruby Mob. But they'd all joined recently. It most likely been one of their first field missions. Occasionally, you felt guilty for taking way life so thoughtlessly. But then again, it wasn't your fault that those three had gotten in your way. It wasn't your fault that you were so lethal. A phone began to buzz. Taehyung quickly slipped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. He squinted in the light from the phone screen, which was painfully bright in your dark surroundings. 'It's a text from Mr Min,' Taehyung said. You expression softened at the mention of your uncle. A great deal of the time, you forgot just how dangerous he was, how many men he had killed. You had been raised by the most lethal of men, yet your uncle's affection for and you him often you lead you to forget these facts. 'What is it?' you quizzed Taehyung, stretching your arms above your head. Your arms ached from the absorbing the shock of the gun repeated times. Ah, you lead a taxing life. At least the pay was good. 'He wants to talk to us about something important,' Taehyung told you. This sentence knocked any feelings of drowsiness from your system. 'Important' meant a job. A job meant stealth. A job meant immeasurable risks. All things you lived for. No words were exchanged between you and Taehyung as you both hurried back to the car. * Fifteen minutes later, you were stood outside the familiar mahogany doors which lead to your uncle's office. Taehyung was stood by your side, and you were waiting to be let in. Thudding against your chest, your heart pounded. Your mind was racing with possibilities for all the tasks that awaited you. Before your mind had chance to continue going wild, the doors to Yoongi's office swung open, and you and Taehyung did not hesitate to pass confidently through them. Min Yoongi, your uncle, sat at his desk. He was leant back in his leather desk chair as always. There were neat stacks of papers on his desk, and the walls of his office were lined with books. You yourself knew that the bookcases hid secret rooms and escape tunnels, but they were for emergency only. You were yet to use them, and you prayed you never would have to. Everything was as it always was in your uncle's office, except this time it was not only your uncle who was occupying the room. There was a man beside his desk. He was tall - taller than Taehyung, actually. His dark brown hair was parted, and he had big, dark eyes. A strong jaw, prominent cheekbones - not half bad. Good legs, too - you could clearly see his muscular thighs through his ripped black jeans. You had to admit, he was handsome, in fact he was pretty damn hot. Mentally you scolded yourself, seeing as it was most certainly not the time to be checking out this guy. Clearly, he thought he was all that. Head slightly titled back, one leg relaxed. He jutted out his jaw and smirked at you when he caught you surveying him. Well, you thought, looks like I'll have to put this cocky bastard in his place. 'I trust everything went well this evening,' Yoongi said, brushing his black hair from his eyes. Taehyung stepped forward, 'Jimin's men ambushed us'. Yoongi laced his fingers together and sat up in his chair. 'That didn't stop you, did it?' With a shake of his head, Taehyung replied, 'We took them down.' Laughing coldly, Yoongi nodded his head. 'Of course you did. I would expect no less.' 'Now,' Yoongi said, any hints of amusement vanishing from his face. 'I called you in to meet this young man,' he announced, motioning to the individual beside his desk. 'As the two of you know,' Yoongi went on, 'I recently married Jeon Eul.' Both you and Taehyung nodded. You had been present at the wedding - you adored Eul. She was the light to your uncle's darkness. She picked him back up on his bad days, and always had his back. 'I didn't mention it before, but Eul has a son,' Yoongi informed you bluntly. This was indeed news for you - you didn't allow your surprise to cross your face, seeing as that would be terribly unprofessional. Nodding to the man beside his desk, Yoongi said, 'Meet Jeon Jungkook.' Murmuring your greetings, you and Taehyung began silently assessing this Jungkook. You cursed silently - this was to be your new step cousin? This pretty boy with his head up his own arse? God, it just got better and better. '(Y/N),' Yoongi addressed you, 'Jungkook is our newest hitman.' He turned to Jungkook. 'Jungkook, this is my niece and prodigy, (L/N) (F/N), your new partner.' Again, Jungkook shot you that smirk of his. 'Nice to meet you,' he grinned, his voice low and smooth. 'My pleasure,' you replied tensely. As much as you would have loved to protest, you kept your mouth shut as Yoongi continued. You knew better than to question your uncle. 'You'll teach Jungkook,' Yoongi said to you. 'Not train him. You'll find he's very adept in combat. Just show him the ropes, introduce him to who he needs to know, and get to know each other. After that, I have a new mission for the two of you.' 'You'll start tomorrow'. Through gritted teeth you replied with a cold, 'Of course.' Yoongi clapped his hands together, and stood up. He walked around to you, and pressed a kiss on both of your cheeks. 'Don't underestimate him,' he whispered in your ear before returning to his seat. You were dismissed, and you then promptly exited the room. Taehyung stayed back to tell Yoongi of the evening's compilation, and you were left with your angered thoughts. Stepping into the elevator, you harshly pressed the button for the underground car park. You were furious - why did you have to handle that arrogant brat? It wasn't your job. As the elevator's doors closed, a foot jutted in between the doors and they sprung apart. And in stepped Jeon Jungkook, pressing the button for the ground floor, a cocky grin upon his face. An attractive one, but one you wanted to slap straight off. 'Hello, partner,' Jungkook smirked. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you returned the greeting with a tense nod. 'Not very talkative, are you?' Jungkook enquired. Your head whipped around to face him. Who did he think he was? 'I don't make a habit of talking to cocky bastards like you, pretty boy,' you snarled. He pondered this for a moment, not even looking offended - as a matter of fact, his smirk widened to a full grin. 'You think I'm pretty?' he teased. 'What's your problem?' you questioned with a frown. 'I don't have a problem,' he replied. 'You just intrigue me.' Absentmindedly you tilted your head to the side. 'How so?' you asked, your scowl deepening. With a smirk, he chuckled and said, 'I don't see how someone with such a sweet, innocent face can be so dangerous.' The doors of the elevator opened with a ding, and Jungkook moved though the doors. 'Don't you dare underestimate me!' you called after his retreating figure. He simply laughed and waved over his shoulder. 'I wouldn't dare, sweetheart.' 'See you tomorrow!' And then the doors closed, and he was gone. You crossed your arms and scowled at the doors. And you vowed there and then that you would put him in his place.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook x reader angst #Jungkook smut #bts smut #mafia! jungkook #mafia! Jungkook smut #mafia! Jungkook fluff #mafia! Jungkook angst #bts x reader smut #jimin smut #bts daddy

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universalpocketdm · 7 years

Note

high school/college AU for Lance, marriage of convenience AU for Icanu

There’s a pretty big gap in tone here. Enjoy more of Icanu’s suffering, I guess.

Lance:

“Mister Tanric,” a voice snapped. Lance jerked awake and rubbed at his eyes. It took him a couple of seconds to get his bearings, but there were only so many people who ever said his name like that. He looked up at Dean Kuhoji and flashed a smile. Her expression remained stern as she crooked a finger at him.

“Step into my office,” she said.

He rose from the waiting-room couch and followed her into what was likely the most spartan office in the entire university. A plain desk sat in the center of the room and a bookcase was shoved into one corner. There were no decorations, not even a single desk ornament. A pair of uncomfortable wooden chairs were set across the desk from each other. The Dean sat behind the desk and gestured at the other chair. Lance flipped the chair around and sat with his legs spread and his arms crossed on the chairback.

The Dean opened a drawer, pulled out a file, and slapped it on the desk.

“I trust you know why you’re here, Tanric,” she said.

“Listen,” he said, “I can explain everything if you’ll just list-”

“The police,” she interrupted, “are considering assault charges, and you’re lucky they didn’t end up with reason to think about manslaughter or even murder. And you tell me you can explain everything?”

“Yes,” he insisted, “if you’ll just let me-”

“Frankly, Tanric,” she cut him off, standing and leaning over the desk towards him, “with your record I’m tempted to expel you here and now, so your explanation better be pretty fucking good.”

Lance leaned back, nearly falling off his chair.

“It’s good, I’m telling you it all works out in my favor, actually.”

Dean Kuhoji sat back in her chair and gave him a “go on” gesture.

Alright, so I was minding my own business, going back to my dorm after playing guitar on the quad for a couple hours. I’ll admit I should have been in class, but it turns out it was damned lucky I skipped.

I was almost back, just a block away, when I heard a girl shout, but it was cut off. It sounded like it came from an alley, so I just peeked in to check and there were three guys in there, and this girl who one of them was holding against the wall. Her purse was on the ground, her shit scattered everywhere, and one of the fuckers was rummaging through it all.

The guy holding her said something about teaching her some manners, and the other two laughed. None of them were paying any attention to me, so I just strolled over. Turns out the girl had some pepper spray in her purse, but she didn’t get to it in time and it got flung down the alley when they scattered her shit. I picked it up and pulled out my lighter. Nothing wrong with owning a lighter, right? I don’t do anything illegal with it, okay?

Anyway, I tell the fuckers to leave the girl alone and be on their way, and the guy going through her stuff tells me to fuck off. I tell him to can it and be on his way, last warning. Well they didn’t like that. The one holding the girl keeps holding her, but the other two move towards me and draw knives, so I lift up the pepper spray and the lighter and just kinda…

You know…

Flamethrower the guys.

I don’t know what those guys were wearing, but the fire caught real good. Those two ran off screaming, the third guy just ran off, and the girl grabbed her purse real quick and bolted too. Twenty minutes later I got picked up by campus security.

“And then I got dumped in your waiting room for an hour,” Lance concluded.

The Dean rubbed at her temples.

“You have a remarkable talent,” she sighed, “for escalating conflicts.” She shook her head and fixed him with a stern glare. “But in this case, the university will support you. I’ll try to find the girl and see if she can corroborate your story. Be aware, though, that the next time you get hauled in here for anything less than a heroic rescue I will have you expelled.”

Lance stood up, clasped his hands, and bowed deeply.

“Understood, Dean Kuhoji, ma’am. I will seek to mend my ways, ma’am.”

“I can see you smiling, Tanric.”

“Just so happy to have you on my side, ma’am.”

“Get out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lance backed up to the door, still bowing, and winked at the Dean as he left.

Icanu:

The figure that stared back at Icanu from the mirror looked… wrong. The clothes were wrong, the posture was wrong, and the expression was definitely wrong.

It is simply impossible, he decided, to look like a charming rascal in a tuxedo.

The person in the mirror wasn’t Icanu, it was the future Baron Wateracre, a man who would have a title, land, a beautiful wife, a son, and enough regret to last the rest of his life.

And yet there is no better option.

The door opened behind him and his bride, Vittoria Wateracre, bustled in, dressed all in white and showing a slightly distasteful amount of bosom for a wedding.

“You look wonderful, darling,” she trilled.

“And you are lying,” Icanu growled.

“What’s there to lie about?”

“Oh, not about me,” he replied, turning and showing her his best smile. “White dresses aren’t for whores.”

She recoiled as though he had struck her.

“You,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom, “are about to marry into a higher station than a mere mercenary should ever hope for. Show some gratitude.”

Icanu raised an eyebrow at her, then looked away dismissively and began putting on the white gloves that went with the tuxedo.

“It is you,” he said as he slipped the second glove on, “who should be grateful, I think. Your bastard is about to become legitimate, and that is all that matters to you, yes?”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you would be happier going to brothels and pretending those whores are that cold-hearted bitch you work with?” she retorted. She grabbed him by the chin and turned his head until they locked eyes. “Why do you want her so badly? What does she have that you long for?”

Icanu grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she let go of his face.

“She has fear and rage like I have never seen,” he whispered, guiding Vittoria towards the door by her arm, “and determination enough to hold both inside. She does not treat me like a tool to be used and discarded as necessary or like a threat to be held at bay.” He released her arm. “So forgive me if your endless ambition does not appeal to me.”

She glared at him, but opened the door to leave without another word. Before she could close the door behind herself it was pulled from her grasp. She turned, thinking perhaps he meant to apologize.

“And you are mistaken,” he said, staring at the floor, “if you think I will no longer be frequenting brothels. At least the whores there are honest.” He smiled and turned his eyes back up to her. “Do not worry though, you will not be catching anything, since you will never find me in your bed again.”

He slammed the door.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to antagonize his future wife, he knew, but there was no way she would cancel the wedding and he didn’t want her to think she had won. He turned his eyes upward.

I am sorry, Ahadi. I promised I would wait until you were ready, but it seems that day will never come. At least the girls at the brothel let me call them by your name.

He took one last look in the mirror.

Gods, I may never forgive myself for this.

The chapel was full when he arrived, and a low murmur ran through the crowd as he took his place by the altar.

Lords and ladies, he thought with a grim smile, prepare to welcome to your ranks a low-born mercenary whose lack of hospitality will be the stuff of legends.

For just a moment, at the back of the chapel, behind the crowd, there was a glint of light on metal. His eyes locked darted to the shadow it had come from, and he thought he saw a figure there.

Is that-

The height was about right, and the relaxed posture, and the careful positioning to see most of the chapel without being immediately visible.

She is here, he thought, struggling to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest. She is going to object. She is going to claim me for herself.

The doors opened and all eyes except his locked onto the bride, now proceeding down the aisle. The figure in the shadows shifted slightly.

Vittoria arrived at the altar and the priest began to speak, but Icanu couldn’t bring himself to look at his bride.

“And if any object to this union,” the priest said after an eternity, “let them step forward now.”

The figure… did not move.

Please, Ahadi, do not let me do this.

The priest cleared his throat quietly.

“Kiss me, you idiot,” Vittoria hissed.

He kissed her, and watched as Ahadi slipped from the shadows and stood silhouetted for a moment in the doorway. A tearful smile crossed her face, then she turned and disappeared into the street.

By the time Icanu arrived at the brothel that night he was already too drunk to walk straight. He opened the door and declared, “Tonight I am supposed to consummate my marriage. Who would like the honor of stealing what rightfully belongs to a baroness?”

“Icanu,” one of the girls said, “we’ve been expecting you. Your partner was here earlier and paid us very well to give you some special service tonight.”

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled towards the stairs.

“Ahadi,” he whispered to himself, trying to hold back tears while a pair of prostitutes hauled him to a room.

They opened the door, pushed him in, and closed it behind him.

There was somebody on the plush, curtained bed, and somebody sitting on the windowsill. His eyes locked on the figure in the window, and he fell to his knees.

“Icanu,” Ahadi whispered from her perch without turning to face him, “I can’t give you what you want, but I thought this might be an appropriate gift for your wedding night.”

He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to the bed. He pulled the curtains aside and saw-

No, it isn’t her, he thought, shaking his head. But the hair was right, and she had elaborate makeup that almost looked like the scars that adorned Ahadi’s face.

When he turned back to the window, Ahadi was gone.

#lance #icanu

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