#again view my beautiful mind: miles tells him to put his hand on the table and hes like . ok morales do u need my help or... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tfwlawyers · 3 years

Note

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth’s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

#bluefaewren #replies #parent trap au #attempting to write tag

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense.

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all.

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time.

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first.

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio.

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him.

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur.

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life.

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.”

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get.

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #submission #arthur weasley #ron weasley

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foli-vora · 3 years

Text

worlds collide

A/N: Hi, I’m in my feels tonight so have some angst! (That gif is breaking my fucking heart.)

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, blood, death

+++

Din didn’t know how or when it happened. All he knew was that it did happen. He awoke, however long after the initial blast, in a startle, hand shooting to the beskar covering his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. People were screaming, running erratic paths through the fire and debris. Stomach lodged firmly in his throat, he looks to his side where he expects to find the Child, his child, tucked up safe in the sack he had fashioned from old pieces of scrap material he found on the Crest.

He whips around in alarm when he finds nothing but ruins. Where was the kid? Why wasn’t he here? Dust coats the gloves covering his hands as he pushes through the remnants of fallen buildings around him, showing away piece after piece of rubble, desperation clawing away at his insides as he continuously comes up empty.

Where was the kid? The kid. Where was the kid?

And then a memory hits him.

Your smile. Not the polite half smiles you would offer others, mere strangers passing by on the streets, no. This smile was all his. The smile that he swears brings the stars he travels through to your eyes. The smile that is seared into his mind, that’s painted across his eyelids every time he finds a small amount of time to rest.

You grin up at him and make a sly little comment about his stiff armour digging into the soft sack carrying the sleeping baby, gently lifting it from across his body and hanging it upon your own, hand automatically rubbing soothing circles over the little lump through the coarse material.

“I told you he wouldn’t wake,” you shoot him a smirk, walking further ahead to admire the various materials and trinkets laid across tables throughout the market.

He pauses, coming to a stop between the bustling patrons, taking a moment to watch you. Watch the way you tread between the buyers, the way your hand automatically cradles the sack protectively if someone pushes too close, the way your eyes soak up each new object and entity you encounter with eager, curious eyes.

You notice the absence of his intimidating presence only a few steps ahead and turn to him questioningly. Tilting your head, you smile inquisitively, taking a small moment of your own to admire him and the incredible gleam of his armour against the bright backdrop of colourful banners and busying shoppers.

Peace.

That’s what he had felt in that moment. And though you had never seen him without the heavy helmet covering his face, he knew you saw him. In more than the physical sense. But where did it go wrong? When did the peace meet its end? When did it melt into the overwhelming sense of loss he feels now?

Your eyes flicker to something over his shoulder, brows pinching together. The immediate sense of dread that crashes over him the second your eyes widen in fear has him moving instantly, not caring about what’s there, what you’re seeing – just filled with the drowning need to reach you, to reach the child, to protect.

Had you called for him? In his current state, he doesn’t recall. The explosion had been so loud. He knew he had called for you – your name ripping from his modulator with a blinding urgency that left his throat feeling raw and then… nothing.

Frantic, he continues to push his way around, ignoring the people that pull on his armour-clad arms and beg for his aid. He doesn’t have time. He refuses to help them while you and the Child are missing. He won’t help a soul until he knows where you are, knows that you’re both unharmed, that you’re both safe.

He’s not sure what sound falls from his lips when he catches sight of your boots sticking out from beneath a piece of fallen wall. The breath gets sucked from his lungs, bile rises in his throat, and then he’s running, not caring about who he shoves down along the way – he just needs to get to you.

The adrenaline pulsing through his system has him hefting the piece of rubble off of you and then he’s on his knees, gloved hands gently, urgently, pushing at your shoulder until you’re on your back. He can’t see you, not the real you. Dust and blood cake your face and no matter how hard he scrubs along your skin; he can’t find you.

His hands follow along your frame, feeling along the side of your body and then… there he is. The Child chirps sadly, blinking dust from his wide eyes, and wiggles from the soiled sack, stumbling onto unsteady legs. He turns to look at you, large ears dropping in sorrow at the sight of your battered body.

“I know, kid. They’re gonna be fine.”

You were going to be fine, because there was no other option. You’d have a bump on the head, complain about it for a few days, get on his nerves, and then be fine. Healed. Alive.

He swears his heart jumps a beat when your face pinches, features contorting in discomfort. He hates knowing you’re in pain, but he’d take it. Quite happily. At least that meant you were still here, still with him. He waits, but your eyes don’t open and he gets impatient. He taps your cheek once, twice, again just a little bit harder.

Why aren’t you waking up?

He shakes you; hand locked firmly onto your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. The desperation that’s leaking into his voice starts to intensify the longer your lashes stay against the skin of your cheeks. Come on. You’re alright. You’re alright. Wake up –

And then finally – Stars, finally – your eyes flutter. The two suns hovering in the sky blind you, and you lift a heavy hand with a groan to cover your face. Relief floods him in an overwhelming wave and he crumbles over your body like he’s just ran nonstop for miles. You’re okay. You’re fine, everything’s fine.

His hands are everywhere when you eventually sit up – cradling your ribs, supporting your shoulders, a gloved palm against your cheek as you blink blearily at the scene around you. What happened? You don’t have the strength to ask. His grip is tight as he holds your hands, gently pulling you to stand. He doesn’t move away once you’re on your feet and it’s a good thing, too – you tremble, head melting into a vicious spin, and your legs give out from under you.

He has you in his arms before you’re even halfway to the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Always.

He cradles you the entire hike back to the Crest, the Child cuddled up to your chest as he coos gently at you, keeping you awake and as alert as possible. Din doesn’t stop moving, powered purely by the desperation to get you back to the ship, back home, somewhere safe. He kicks blankets across the cold grated floor and delicately lies you down, careful not to jostle you too much.

Your face puckers in agony, but soon you relax with a soft exhale, watching him through tired eyes as he moves the kid to his hammock before rushing back to your side. The gloves come off in an urgent tug and soon you’re rewarded with the heat of his fingertips trailing across your skin. His touch disappears, and you wish you could voice your protest, wish you could beg him to put them back.

You watch as tanned hands reach and grasp at the helmet, pulling it up and off and then – oh. Din blinks down at you with wide brown eyes, assessing every bit of damage he could see without his visor hindering his view. A scratch here, a scrape there – nothing bacta won’t fix. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. His eyes fall back to yours, and he half smiles, somewhat shyly, as you study his previously secret features.

Beautiful.

Your hand moves, fingers desperate to feel the scruff covering his jawline, but it falls short and you try to frown in frustration but lack the strength to contort your features. His own hand shoots up and helps yours on its journey, and soon you can feel it – scratchy against the skin of your palm.

His other hand is warm across your forehead and you smile weakly at the look of pure adoration on his face, his dark eyes flicking over your features. He had no regrets removing his helmet. He would have removed it in front of you one day, anyway.

“I’ll get you some water, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, bending to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You weakly move your head ever so slightly, greedily chasing his lips with your own, desperate to feel them just once, and your heart bursts as he grins, eyes crinkling and dimple appearing. What a sight. He lets his nose trail softly against yours before moving to your lips. His kiss was everything you had dreamed – tender, loving… and it chased away the chill that seemed to have taken a hold of your body, even if just for a few seconds.

“D-Din –” Why is it so hard to speak? You feel so weak. You want to tell him so much. He needs to know what he means to you. You’ve never been able to say the words and now you’re filled with regret. But surely, he knows. He must. You need to thank him for… for everything. For showing you the stars, for making you believe in yourself, for showing you that it’s okay to stand your ground when someone tells you to move. Maker, you need to speak. He needs to know. “Din,”

He hushes you lightly, dancing his warm fingers across your jaw affectionately. “Save your strength, cyare.”

Your eyes well as you watch him stand and leave. No, stay. Stay, please. He tries to be quick as he retrieves you a drink, but the water pressure on the Crest is questionable to say the least. He also fills a small bowl to start cleaning your skin of the filth that cakes it, desperate to see the horror of the day washed free from your skin. He returns after a short while, expertly juggling the many bits and pieces in his arms, and stops short of the makeshift bed.

You’re still. Completely unmoving. Your chest no longer moves, fighting for gasps of air. Your eyes were open, pointed to where he had disappeared into the fresher, but they lacked life. They’re vacant, hollow. They stare right through him. He all but drops everything in his arms, falling right beside you.

Swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth, he tries to speak. “C-Cyare?”

His hands move to your face, and he recoils at the chill of your skin. Heat, you need heat. His thumbs rub across your cheeks, desperate to work some sort of friction against your skin. He wills your eyes to focus, to gaze back into his. Breathe. Maker, please, breathe.

“Cyar’ika, I’m here.” He moves closer, hands darting over your body, indecisive of where to touch, where to hold you. No. You’re fine. You’re fine. He feels the cracks start to form, his world quickly falling apart in his hands. “I’m here. Please, cyare – I’m here.”

Yes, he is… but you’re not.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fic #mando #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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twst-campos13 · 3 years

Note

headcanons for Rook, Malleus, Silver, and Vil when their m!s/o jumps on their back biting their head screaming nonsense like a mad man. the first year gang coming running and one explains wheezing “mistake in potions, physical capabilities inhanced, out of control, immune to magic, help”

the rest of the day is spent with literally all the twst boys chasing after their insane boyfriend. tears were shed, dignity lost, pride scratched.

by the time he’s caught it’s nearly midnight and none of them know what’s real anymore since he kept screaming very philosophical things.

i await your answer with anticipation~

*weakly grips you,,,*

it is...finished....i will leave most of my commentary in the notes...also please read the warning tags carefully!

Warnings: language, mild physical violence, implicit dementia (Vil’s part!), poison, blood, depiction/description of death, goofy’s trial dialogue (Vil’s part), mild gun threat (Vil’s part) << no actual guns were present but was mentioned Tags: male!reader, angst, crackfic

This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Ace started it. Deuce aided. Epel volunteered. Jack said it was a bad idea and Sebek warned them. Yet in the end—in the end—they contributed. They helped. And when the smoke cleared from the explosion that shattered the laboratory's windows, beakers, and test tubes, spilling chemicals on the ground—on you—it was too late for Crewel to protect you. For your friends to protect you.

Grim called your name. Once. Twice. Thrice in a yowl of panic as Deuce held him back and carried him away when he tried to get closer to your unmoving body; it's laying in a puddle of liquid. Black? Brown? Gray? He doesn't know the colors—how doesn't know what's happening—he doesn't know and he doesn't care because he just wants you to be safe.

Ace couldn't speak. Deuce couldn't move. Epel started shaking but hid behind a mask of control. Jack's ears and tail were erratic and Sebek broke the silence with a firm command of retreating. Let the professor handle this. Let the adult handle it.

Then you moved.

They watched you rose from the ground like a corpse from the grave.

And hell breaks loose.

➸ Why did you bite his head and messed his hair up

➸ He got no time for games, fool

➸ KIDDING

➸ Granted you did jump at Vil when his Flying Class was done. It startled him and shocked everybody. His face flared because he thought your surprise hugs had gotten too far. It took Mr. Ashton and a few of his classmates to get you off him. He's pretty sure you managed to tear off a few hairs from his scalp—and skin apparently because he felt blood drip down his lashes.

➸ Okay, that's not normal behavior for you-

➸ You were more than disheveled; your lab coat was torn and singed, blood was seeping from your clothes, and you had a dazed look. Vil fixed himself immediately, of course, but it's natural for him to get worried about you. You looked awful. Vil was sure the chemicals splattered on your skin and uniform was what was making you disoriented. What are these fools doing still holding onto you? You should be taken to the infirmary this instance!

➸ Vil wasn't prepared for what you did next. The moment Mr. Ashton held your shoulders to lead you to the infirmary, you knocked him out with an elbow strike. What the fuck.

➸ Okay, obviously, you're defensive. Vil took out his pen and—along with a few other students and the professor??—tried to restrain you. Vil was careful not to cast any harmful spells on you but for some reason, the professor and the other seniors seem to go off on casting advanced spells that could quite literally kill you! Du spinnst wohl are they insane?

➸ It took a lot from Vil to not be hysterical. Panicking will not do him any good but having to witness you get blasted by magic and only shake it off while maddeningly laughing is frustrating. He couldn't bear the sight of seeing you get hurt and argued loudly with one of the seniors to go easy on you. The fact that you were spouting nonsense doesn't help your situation at all, especially when you declared this, "ah-hyuck! I'll fucking shoot 'em again."

➸ "Love, will you please cooperate!" was what Vil wished to say, but seeing you in this state brought a jab of pain in his heart. The familiarity of this situation—the confusion, the frustration, the worry, the pain—adds up to the pressure and desperation of just saving you from whatever the fuck this is.

➸ Vil doesn't even want to look at himself in the mirror. He fears that he'll end up breaking the mirror from what he'll see, but he's pretty sure, with the fight and the chase you're giving everyone, that his makeup is running and his hair is a mess. Amidst nausea and chaos, Vil came up with a solution to restrain you. So, gathering what is left of his dignity and pride, and his love for you, Vil wiped the sweat and smudged makeup off his face and ran back to Pomefiore.

➸ Don't ask why he has a ready-made collection of poisons. Just don't. It's for emergencies—such as this.

➸ Rook found him hunched over his table with the vials of poison. He calmed Vil down and assured him that you'll be alright. The only fear that Vil has is losing another person he cares about—that includes you. Rook kissed his hand and told him he will bring the poison to you. Rook knows how much you mean to Vil, and because of his devotion to his roi de poison, he will do whatever he can to ensure your safety for Vil's sanity.

➸ Rook advised Vil not to come with him, but he wants to. Vil wants to be able to hold you in his arms and be the first to make sure that you're okay.

➸ When the deed has been done, Vil rushed to your side. He expected your body to be as cold as a corpse but still, it shocked him. He ignored the whisper of doubt and tended to the wound Rook made to put you to sleep. You've been taken to the infirmary along with everyone else that you caused inconvenience. Vil didn't come for the anxiety settled with the fatigue in his body.

➸ When Vil came back to the Pomefiore common room, sluggish and tired, he found Rook holding Epel's shoulder. The little potato couldn't look at him in the eye and frankly, Vil just wanted to spend some time in his quarters. However, Epel's confessed, and a little bit of energy came back to Vil so he can process what the little potato said to him.

➸ He what.

➸ His hand sprung up instinctively and Epel flinched. But Vil knew this wouldn't undo what happened. He knew it isn't worth it. Vil doesn't have the strength to be angry or blame Epel. It was a mistake, after all. A very stupid mistake. Epel looked pitiful crying for forgiveness so Vil asked Rook to send him back to his room.

➸ It's proven enough just how Vil cares about you.

Vil sat down in front of his vanity table. He could not bear to look at himself in the mirror. All he could do is stare blankly at nothing. Your words made no sense and Vil feared the worst when you wake up. If you wake up.

"Great Sevens..." he muttered and wiped the tears that fell from his face. He knew what he had to do next. He just had to be prepared for it.

➸ Imagine Rook saying "oh mon Dieu" with the most neutral face and surprised eyes as if the explosion was just a mild inconvenience.

➸ POV: you're Trey Clover

➸ He and Trey were just cleaning around in the greenhouse when the explosion occurred. Rook knows that you have a special assignment with your friends. You didn't tell him what it is but he doesn't need you to. (He overheard Epel and Ace chill he respects you enough as his boyfriend to not pry into your private life via stalking)

- ➸ He wasted no time dashing to the potions lab. Being a hunter makes you very quickly as well as expecting the unexpected. However, he didn't expect the First Year Gang to be thrown out of the door and you emerge from the smoke as if you were some sort of ravaging beast.

➸ If you weren't obviously covered in soot and blood, Rook would have fainted from the beauty and badassery you're currently conveying.

➸ Now is not the time to be in awe—you jumped wall to wall with a speed faster than a cheetah's and Rook was able to deflect your attack by sidestepping. However, a few students got injured in the process. Rook saw your intention despite Monsieur Heart warning the students to not get in the way, lest they hurt themselves. You had no intention to harm—only run.

➸ Rook has two options: follow you empty-handed or grab his bow and risk losing you

➸ He's confident in his skills in finding you, so he chose to gather information first. By that, well, pulling Epel to the side to calm him down then ask him what happened. Rook managed to understand the situation despite Epel shaking like a leaf. He doesn't feel angry. Such emotion would only intensify his instincts and he might do something that will put you and everyone else in harm more. So instead he thanked Epel, gave his head a pat, and quickly dashed to his locker for his bow and arrows.

➸ Your boyfriend is a madman before you, for he immediately knows where you were after getting his bow. Rook attained higher heights for a better view and from the roof, he saw your figure dashing towards the forest. Ah, so your instincts led you to where you wish to be. Alright, this isn't Rook's first hunt.

➸ When everyone else had trouble tracking you down, Rook doesn't. He reminded himself that you're not in the right mind. His monsieur filou is akin to a startled, confused, and defensive wild animal at the moment. Like a little rat, he supposed. Your movements aren't that hard to decipher for a hunter like him plus he can hear your kitchen philosophy from a mile away.

➸ He has to apologize to Vil for taking a few vials of ready-made poison. But this is a matter of life and death. You are in danger from yourself, and as your knight, Rook will save you. Quiet as he can, he laced the tip of his arrow with the poison and aimed it at you. Rook closed his eyes and reminded himself that he is doing this to save you; not to harm you.

➸ He notched his arrow—and you caught it with your bare. Fucking. Hand. SINGLE HAND!!

➸ Rook, internally: holy shit that was hot

➸ Well his covers have been blown and you waved the arrow around screaming something about "I trusted you little guy!" before throwing the arrow with such accuracy while saying "go and take your little mice friend family rat with you!"

➸ Mon Dieu, he does not appreciate being called a rat!

➸ The chase continued and you quite gave everyone a workout. As much as Rook appreciated the stimulating experience you gave him, he much rather wants you subdued and safe, not running around with so many people after you. Luckily, Vil came in and gave him a new vial that is much more potent than the one he stole. He is amazed by the preparedness of his roi de poison but he is much concerned at the potency of the poison.

➸ Vil strictly stared at him and nodded at the new direction you ran to. "With his state like that, you need to take the risks." Rook took his advice. Vil is always sharp as a dagger after all.

➸ Which means he had to use a dagger than an arrow to subdue you. Yes, Rook took the risk of having the poison close to him and closer to you in a 1 v 1 scuffle. Ah, this took him back to when he wrestled his first bear. Except the bear is his boyfriend and you're still quite human...and he's going to drive the blade of his dagger in a non-critical part of your body.

➸ Finally, the drama ended, and the curtains closed when your body fell into his arms. Your blood trickles into a small stream from where he drove the blade in. Rook knelt to the ground and cradled your body in his arms. Sweat dripped everywhere on his skin but he doesn't care about that. He cares about you.

➸ Rook reminded himself that you can be cured of your sleep-like death and prioritized the wound that he engraved on your skin. He kissed the place where he stabbed you and solemnly apologized for defacing your body. Worry not, he will have you stitched in the infirmary, and you will awaken with his kiss...atleast he hoped you will.

➸ Epel was waiting there when Rook brought you in. The poor boy had been crying and he apologized to Rook for the mistake he had done. Rook felt no anger and instead felt sympathy. He too had done his fair share of mistakes, and Epel should not burden himself with those. Instead, he told him, take this as a learning experience as to not do it again.

➸ Rook saved Epel from Vil's harsh scolding. Now, the only one that needs saving, is you.

Even in a sleep-like death, you are still beautiful. Your pale skin is a worrying sight to many but Rook managed to calm himself by admiring it instead. Your body is like marble with blue veins spreading in varied directions.

Rook knew he cannot distract himself by admiring you like a statue of art. You are an art, not a statue. Only histories remain as statues—and you will not become history. He knew what he had to do.

"Oh, mon filou," he whispered against your cold lips, "forgive me."

➸ Just a reminder: Malleus cares for you deeply :))

➸ He was just minding his own business when you suddenly attacked him from behind. Malleus thought you were just being your usual self and lifted his head so you'd let go of his horns. But you didn't and instead, you pulled on it harder that it startled him. He knows how strong you are—meaning something is wrong-

➸ You had quite the vice grip on his horns even when he used his tail to try and pry you off and even shake you off. He didn't want to use his entire strength to throw you but the moment his skin broke under your nails, his instincts came in first, and he threw you across the hallway.

➸ Malleus was horrified. He didn't mean to throw you much less even hurt you. The panic got to him faster than the pain on his head as he rushed to where you flew. Was it possible to feel overwhelming fear? When Malleus' saw the outline of your figure cut clean on the window, he felt something more than fear. If he had lost you and it was his fault, then his promises for you are broken.

➸ Then he spots your hand reach through the hole in the window. And you pulled yourself up and through the hole before dropping to the floor like a ragdoll. You were covered in bruises and cuts. Malleus feared that you have a concussion as well for you were muttering loudly about the stars melting and the Moores burning.

➸ Well, Malleus could worry about that later. You were injured and disoriented. The amount of blood coming out of you is increasing and his priority is getting you to safety.

➸ However, just before he can scoop you in his arms, his knights came to his side. Silver looked like he'd been roused from his sleep as Sebek is disheveled. He made a firm declaration of protecting the Young Master, and that would have been normal for Sebek...if he was standing proud and tall as he said it. Malleus could easily smell the anxiety and lingering guilt from the young fae.

➸ Things got even more concerning as Professor Crewel, Crowley, a few senior students, and Sebek's friends joined in. Malleus looked back at you and saw your cornered state. He doesn't understand what's happening yet but one thing is for sure—you're equally terrified as he is. Everyone was on guard, the Headmaster and the Professor spoke to you as if you were a wild animal—which you were—but all Malleus could think of is grabbing you and flying you away to safety.

➸ Which he did do despite public opinions

➸ By public opinions, the shouts of protests that soon fell quiet when he grabbed you and disappeared...also the "protest" falling from you which Malleus couldn't really understand. It was philosophy and poetry and a prophecy that he can comprehend little; for all Malleus cares about is you.

➸ "My dear, please, what had happened to you?" The desperation was painfully obvious in his tone as he restrained you with advanced magic. Yet as he tried to call you out of your subconscious he realized that magic is futile. Whatever state you are in you are able to break free from his magic. Malleus stayed on the defense as you attacked him, yet he recognized your attempts of attacking as desperation for help. If you crying and wailing out "save me" and "free me" isn't enough to give it away.

➸ No matter how many cuts you give him, no matter how much he will bleed, Malleus refused to fight you.

➸ He just wants you to be okay :((

➸ Malleus knew what he had to do but he doesn't know if he had the strength to do it. Your face streaked with tears and pain pushed his heart to do it anyway. So, Malleus shoved you away with a quick pulse of magic, just enough time for him to summon his staff. He blocked your mouth from biting his neck with his arm, and even if it hurts, seeing your eyes begging to be saved hurts more.

➸ When Lilia and the others found him, he was cradling your body in his arms. His staff laid on the ground and his tears dripped down your face like a fickle rain. Lilia didn't need an answer to know what he had done.

➸ Malleus pulled your unconscious body close to him, hoping—desperate—to feel your warmth. But he couldn't. He couldn't hear your pulse, your heartbeat, and he couldn't feel your warmth. All he could feel is cold and numbness. But atleast you are at rest. You are saved. You're okay. You're okay, you're okay, you're okay.

➸ But he knows deep down that you're not. Because if you are okay, he wouldn't be noiselessly crying and clinging to your body as if you just died. You're alive but you're also dead. Knowing the cure for this dilemma tore his heart to pieces because deep down Malleus is still afraid. He feels like he lost you even though the truth isn't far from it.

➸ Your words echoed in his mind before he hit you with his Unique Magic. You started hissing and wailing and finally, you raised your arms in the air and shouted, "this curse will last till the end of time—no power on earth can change it!"

➸ Can you blame him for putting you in a sleep-like death, a sleep which you will never awaken unless by True Love's Kiss? He panicked :((

➸ Malleus kept your body close to him even when he stood up and looked at Sebek bowing deeply on the ground. He was shaking but his tone was loud enough for Malleus to have an understanding of the matter and of Sebek's apology.

➸ Hearing that he was an accomplice of what happened to you gave him mixed emotions.

➸ Sebek vowed his loyalty to Malleus, and when you came into his life, Sebek vowed to protect you as well. And he failed. That is very clear. The poor boy must be getting gnawed inside out with guilt. Well, Sebek did say that he will accept whatever punishment that is will befall him. He should stay true to his words because Malleus is furious.

➸ Malleus vowed to protect you and raise Hellfire to whoever will cause you harm. He wanted to curse him, burn him on where he stands, and make him pay for what he had done unto you. He could do all of these for he can.

➸ But Malleus won't. He won't do those things to Sebek. He held himself back, swallowed the anger, remained in control of himself in front of the pitiful boy. Sebek is your friend. Sebek is his family. In the end, despite his loyalty, despite his duty, Sebek is still a kid. And Malleus knows that. He won't let this burden the young boy despite him taking full responsibility for the situation.

➸ But Malleus doesn't have the words to say what he wants to say. Instead, he told Sebek to rise from his feet and wordlessly left to bring you to the infirmary.

➸ In the end, what matters most is you.

Your words remain in his mind to echo along with the voices of his fears. Malleus wished to feel the warmth of your hand again, for when he grasped it by your bedside he could feel nothing.

True Love's Kiss can wake you. True Love's Kiss. But do such a thing exist in Twisted Wonderland? Of course, it does, Malleus, of course, it does. However, seeing your pale lips are more of a dreadful reminder than a hopeful invitation.

The fear settled in his stomach along with his insecurities. Malleus cannot lose you. He can live without you, but he does not want to.

➸ Homeboy was just sleeping under the tree,,, he didn't hear the explosion go off or even heard you running at him at full speed

➸ By that, well, running at inhumane speed and pouncing right on him like a rabid animal.

➸ He woke right up when he felt the pain immediately. It was like getting hit with a spine of a book—it jostled him enough to wake him, at least, and the adrenaline rushing through him was enough to knock you off. Silver didn't have time to get what the fuck was happening but thank the Sevens he was trained enough to be quick-footed.

➸ He had time to grab his baton but he didn't have time to block your pounce. And damn you hit like a truck! Silver had to use his baton to block your face even if your entire weight was pressing down at him. There was something definitely wrong with you—and it's not just the look in your eyes-

➸ "What's gotten into you?!" the sudden shout made you calm down—thankfully—and Silver thought you're fine again. You looked at him blankly and the anxiety nipped at his skin. "Are you talking to me?" ????? Who else is he talking to???

➸ When he talked to you, like, yes dear I'm talking to you, your face contorted into something akin to bashfulness—the tipsy kind of bashfulness. The next thing you said confused and worried him more: "Mrs. Robinsons...you're seducing me."

➸ ???? Who the fuck is Mrs. Robinsons???

➸ Well, Silver doesn't have time to think what kind of enchantment table language you're daying because you're suddenly thrown away from him by a burst of magic—advanced magic that he only saw Malleus cast once because of the sheer force it can create. By that, meaning, one single hit of that magic can KILL A REGULAR HUMAN BEING.

➸ It was Professor Crewel who fired the blast and even he looked astounded at what he'd done. Silver didn't waste any time rushing to where you were blasted off. He was expecting you...dead, remains, fuck...what he wasn't expecting was seeing you still standing. Barely alive with your skin blooded and peeling and regenerating—but alive, nonetheless.

➸ He locked eyes with you again and the cold feeling settled at the pit of his stomach looking at you. "Hey. Don't look at me like I'm fucking Frankenstein." You opened your arms at him and gave a solemn nod. "Give your father a hug."

➸ Silver, softly: what the fuck

➸ When Professor Crewel withdrew his wand again you literally hissed like a raccoon. And it looked like he wasn't alone for Sebek pulled Silver away from your range. Ace, Deuce, and Grim were here too. Silver took a deep breath and looked at Sebek wordlessly demanding what the fuck is happening.

➸ Sebek, as quick as he could, explained the situation to Silver. The quick run-down of things swum around in Silver's head as your nonsensical remarks made him dizzier. Guess that explains your strength and immunity to magic.

➸ Silver: who did this to him?? Sebek, sweating: it's a funny story, really

➸ Silver stared at Sebek. He didn't have time to process what the fuck Sebek just confessed to because you screamed again. Sebek and he whipped around to see you viciously tearing apart roots and magical bonds set off by the professor along with the senior students that rushed to the scene. "ALRIGHT," you screamed, yeeting Ace, "I'm TIRED of these EFFIN snakes on this MOTHERFUCKIN' TRAIN!" Then you took off running the other direction toward the forest, and the chorus of frustration reminded Silver of the gravity of the situation.

➸ The absurd weight on his entire body made Silver wish this was just a nightmare.

➸ But it would be a nightmare to lose you.

➸ Even when the night was starting to stretch, and the others were sent by the staff to the infirmary, Silver went to the forest with a heavy heart and his baton in hand. Sebek followed him—for what, a sense of responsibility?—and stopped him before he runs into a tree or worse. Silver snapped at him, the anger finally reaching its surface, and he glared at the young man. Silver isn't the type to fight with his fist nor his words, but this is about you. You who were struck by a mix of potions and magic and currently missing because someone's big head got you in trouble.

➸ Silver knows that Sebek knows how much you mean to him. He's also well aware of Sebek's particular dislike for humans. That remark made Sebek slightly stumble. A flash of hurt and angry was in his eyes but he never tried to hit Silver, despite almost losing control over himself.

➸ "Fighting would not bring him back, Silver. Arguing will not either," Sebek told him. "I know my apologies will be useless in this situation and that is why I will do everything that I can to fix this."

➸ Silver is on the verge of fucking tears but it won't compare to Sebek who remains a straight face while his nose turns bright red from holding back tears. Fortunately, before things get worse, Lilia and Malleus came from the trees. In Malleus' arms was you, quiet, and sedated. Silver would have jumped at Malleus and whisked you away but he's suddenly overcome with fatigue that Lilia had to place his arms around him.

➸ Apparently, the two found you by the river doing whatever then Malleus struck you with his Unique Magic. At that mention, Silver felt cold. He didn't realize how tired he felt, from running around to worrying about you. Despite the heaviness on his shoulders and eyelids, he kept his eyes on you. You looked peaceful but hurt. And Silver wished he can keep you close to him to make you less hurt.

➸ He's glad that you're okay now but he feels dreadful about what's to come next. That dread never left, though, even when the slumber takes him.

"Poor things," Lilia sighed, stroking Silver's locks as Sebek carried the boy on his back. Malleus still has your unconscious body in your arms. His expression is unreadable.

Sebek felt the guilt suffocating him but he remained calm despite the lodge in his throat. "M—Master Lilia—Young master—It...this is..." Sebek stammered, failing to grasp the appropriate words for a sincere pardon. Yet Silver's weight is just as heavy as his sins. Lilia, however, stroked his head. "Save your strength, little one. The best you can do for now is take Silver to the infirmary," the elder fae instructed.

Sebek only nodded and obediently abided.

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selfilluminatingkyu · 3 years

Text

Dancing with the Devil(s): Chapter IV

Previous|Current|Next

F!Reader x Adult Trio; this takes place during the same timeline as Season 3 of HxH but the events with Kuropika and the crew are just shifted a little. Things will align back up within the next couple of chapters.

Warnings: Subtle Mentions of Torture and Abuse.

Word Count: 3.1K (She a lil short)

As the name rattles off of Hisoka’s lips, you furrow your eyebrows. Is he someone you know? Is he someone you should know? A thousand thoughts run through you head in the span of a second and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that there is a reason behind why Hisoka would ask you whether or not you knew someone.

You also weren’t completely insufferable in your lack of underworld knowledge. You knew who the Zoldycks were. Had heard many of the wealthy families mention the name before. Wealthy families got to where they were not because they didn’t deal in shady things…they just happened to have enough money to pay someone else to do it for them…and keep it from ever tracing back to them.

You remember being at a gala not to terribly long ago. The patriarch on the family hosting the event had left midway through to speak to an older man with grey/white hair. You’d gone to the bathroom when he’d walked out of the office with the other man—who’d looked extremely pale and weathered as compared to when they’d left. You’d smiled and apologized, telling them you’d gotten turned around on your way back to the party, and the man with the grey/white hair, Zeno Zoldyck you’d come to learn, had simply smiled at you before nodding to the host. The other man had disappeared out of view and the two of you were left alone.

“My, my you have grown into a beautiful young woman since the last time I saw you y/n.” He’d said and you could only blink, registering quickly the sheer power rolling off this man. There was no malice behind it, nor intimidation effect, it was simply him.

“I’m sorry sir, and forgive me for being rude, but do we know each other? I don’t recall ever having met you before.” You said, smiling softly but anxiously, wracking your brain for anything to give you a clue as to not incur your mother’s wrath for forgetting a powerful man’s name and presence.

He chuckled, walking closer to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “No need to worry dear, we’ve never met before per se, but I do know who you are. I’m well aware of your parents’…pursuits. Your name has come up in conversation before and the last time I saw you or a photo of you, you were quite small. Maybe no older than 10 or 11. I was merely making an observation.”

You smiled again and nodded you head, understanding and yet feeling embarrassed and ashamed that you probably looked no better than a filly up for auction, because truthfully…you weren’t.

“Oh! Well it’s nice to meet you—”

“Zeno, Zeno Zoldyck. And it’s nice to finally meet you as well y/n y/l/n. And I’m sure this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

Thinking back on that situation now, back on the first time you ever met Zeno, you wondered how exactly it was your name had ever befallen the ears of the Zoldyck patriarch. Regardless, to be asked about a Zoldyck was odd, even coming from Hisoka.

“I know of the Zoldycks, I’ve met Zeno a couple of times. But I’m not well versed in the members of the family. Is there any particular reason why you ask Hisoka?” You ask, thinking it over more as you answered, wondering where the missing link was in your knowledge. But when you looked up, in that moment, when the words had only just left you mouth, the look in Hisoka’s eyes made you think that not knowing may have been a small grace than a hinderance. And in that moment, you were somewhat grateful the water was already growing cold, because the shock of chill that ran through the air wasn’t nearly as potent.

The small seep of bloodlust in the air made you take in a breath and try to sink into the furthest side of the tub away from him. The hairs on your body stood up and gooseflesh peppered across your skin. You bit back the whimper that wanted to escape and instead looked at the imposing man before you with wide eyes. The shift in demeanor, you realized, was not direct at you but something else entirely.

“Did you ever see the man you were initially going to be engaged to?” Hisoka asked and this made you pause because you had told Chrollo of your past but not the rest of the Troupe and you were certain that it was not information passed along to them as they’d been dismissed when the discussion had happened.

Was this slip up intentional, to make you put the pieces together or had Hisoka’s apparently bloodlust caused his tongue to run away from him? If you were a wagering girl, and you really weren’t, you would’ve bet on the former instead of the latter. Hisoka was calculating and manipulative. You knew his interest in you had made you into a new toy to play with and this seemed like a twist in his play with you. Keeping this in mind, you responded accordingly.

“Yes, once, late one night when I snuck into my father’s office. I wanted to see what he looked like. This elusive person who was supposedly going to be my husband. He was attractive, but I never was told his name because, for whatever reason, my parents ended up forgoing the engagement. I was never told why exactly, and it never dawned on me to ask honestly.” You chose your words carefully, watching him the entire time to gage the way he reacted.

That wasn’t entirely a lie, it wasn’t also entirely the truth. You knew why you parents had never gone through with the engagement; the family, while incredibly powerful and wealthy, was part of the seedy underground and that didn’t bode well with their agenda. A family like the Zoldycks fit perfectly within that description you realized. Although, it was an inclining you’d had after the second time you’d met the Zoldyck patriarch and his son, Silva, the current head of the family and business. They’d been nice, familiar even, and they’d been assessing you. At the time, you hadn’t exactly been sure as to why, but you’d wondered if they’d been the family who’d been very adamant about marrying you to their eldest son.

However, they thought had derailed when Zeno had made an offhanded comment about wondering if you’d be into younger men and you’d been utterly confused. Were they not them? Were you mistaken and they too were now interested after meeting you? You’d never truly gotten your answer though because the next time you saw them, it had been a strained meeting as you’d been their target. Why Zeno had come and told your parents that information instead of just doing his job, and risking his reputation in the process, had puzzled you even more.

“HISOKA! Enough!” The roar from Phinks had startled you as had the slamming of your bedroom door. Curling in on yourself, you’d just managed to cover yourself before Phinks and Shalnark had busted through. “Keep your bloodlust in check, it’s giving me a headache. And what are you even doing in here you pervy bastard? Leave the poor girl alone. You’re needed downstairs anyway, something’s come up.”

Both blonde men gave you a quick once over, probably making sure that you weren’t harmed by the magician but nodding their heads towards the door. Shalnark gave you a smile and a wave before trailing behind Phinks. “Come on Hisoka, don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

Hisoka turned, beginning to move towards the door again before stopping. “Don’t think too hard on it little dove. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

And with that he’d walked out, slamming the bedroom door behind him, leaving you utterly confused and feeling chilled to the bone.

Was this Illumi Zoldyck guy your previous potential fiancé?

Was there another member of the Zoldyck’s who had almost taken that roll instead?

Or was Hisoka just trying to find out some sort of other information that you just weren’t able to see yet?

You didn’t know the answer to those questions right now…but you were certain you were going to get them, whether you wanted to know or not.

That night, you’d gone to bed shortly after you’d forced yourself to climb out of the bathtub. The water had grown cold, and your skin was pruning uncomfortably. The peace in which you had hope to find, even a sliver of, had never come to you, so you hoped maybe sleep would just be a void.

And while you hadn’t been completely wrong, you also hadn’t been completely right.

At first, you’d fallen asleep easily, not even the noises of what was taking place downstairs had deterred you from finding solace in the black abyss. However, that had apparently been short lived as a few hours later, you’d slipped into a nightmare.

You were surrounded by people you didn’t know, and they were talking about you, looking down on you. It was then you realized that you were strapped to a table and that you had wires running from your body to machines. They didn’t appear to be normal medical equipment though, but you couldn’t say for certain that they were made out of nen either. Regardless, seeing the wiring connecting to your body and then to unknown machines left your blood running cold and your mind running a mile a minute as to how to get yourself out of this situation.

“She’s extraordinary. Just extraordinary! With powers like hers…you could rule the world…could rule worlds. There is an unlimited number of things you could do and accomplish with this kind of power. Who knows where it stops!” The excited voice from beside you startled you.

The small man in a lab coat and mask was standing closest too you, scribbling things on a clipboard as he looked at you in awe. You tried to ask what was going on, how you had gotten here, what he was talking about, but nothing came out. Not even a whimper and whisper of breath. You frantically looked around, trying to find a face, a friend, anyone you recognized and kept coming up empty. The faces were blurred, and your eyes began to strain. The sound of voices chattering and a machine clicking barely registered to you…

…but the pain certainly did.

Excruciating was putting it mildly and you quickly understood why you were bound, outside of not allowing you to flee your captors. The pain seared through even molecule in your body and those that it hadn’t even created yet. Your back arched off the table and your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Your throat felt raw, like you’d done it before…possibly even several times before. The only thing that actually seemed to escape you were the tears from the corner of your eyes as the pain stopped and deftly you registered that the machines had stopped but the voices had picked up.

What they were saying, you couldn’t tell. But as the noise kicked up tenfold, the pain did as well, and this time when you screamed…a noise came with it.

“Y/n wake up! It’s just a dream! You’re fine. Wake up!” You bolted up right, screaming yourself hoarse as the pain creeped its way from fantasy into reality. It jarred you to the bone and without thinking you struck out at the closest thing, sending it hurling away from you in an effort to end whatever was causing you pain.

What you hadn’t realized was that that “thing” in which you had sent flying had been Chrollo. Didn’t realize it was him till he was nearly striking the wall on the other side of the room, caught off guard by your sudden attack and the power behind it. It was also then that you realized there was an aura radiating around you and there was immense power coming from it.

You looked to Chrollo wondering if he had always been this strong and had somehow been masking it. But looking at him, seeing the wild, almost gleeful look in his eyes, made you realize that the power was not coming from him…but yourself.

“I need you to breathe for me y/n and focus on controlling the aura that’s around you. If you don’t get a control over it, it’ll continue to seep out of you, and you’ll pass out from the loss.” He spoke softly, walking up to you slowly like you would a terrified animal, afraid that in its fear, will lash out at you and go for your jugular.

However, his tactics were a bit sabotaged when Franklin and Feitan came flying into the room, nen activated and ready to take on anyone who posed a threat. The hostile energy pouring out of them had your fear peaking again, the faces from your dream flashing before your eyes and the power in which you’d thrown at Chrollo was surging again, zeroing in on the new threats and detonating without so much as a blink from you.

Both of their boys went flying as well, Chrollo, seemingly reading your nanosecond of a shift in body language, braced in anticipation, activating his own aura, and deflecting easily. As he seemed to watch two of his strongest members go soaring across the room as if it was no big deal, the look in his eyes seemed to increase tenfold and suddenly he was behind you, wrapping himself around you and smothering you face into his chest.

“Shhh, you’re okay. They aren’t going to hurt you. No one here is going to hurt you little one. I promise.” He stroked your hair and while you realize the sentiment that he was going for, the affection left you feeling even more displaced.

You could feel your body seemingly gearing up for another act and, despite still being unsure as to where these people lie on the spectrum between friend and foe, you did not want to hurt them anymore than you already had. With that in mind, you tried to even your breathing out; tried to think of a dam stopping the free flow of water, and all thing similar to keep yourself from exploding with aura again. And that, coupled with Chrollo’s continued words of assurance, seemed to do the trick, and stop up the free flow of energy.

As the bubble around you seemed to smooth and flow but not run, you realized you’d started to sob at some point, the tears streaming down your face and a near continual stream of whimpers and apologies pouring from your mouth. Apologies to Chrollo for the initial attack, apologies to Franklin and Feitan who’d only come to make sure everything was okay. You didn’t know what was going on or how things had escalated so quickly but you were sorry and you hadn’t meant to hurt them.

You weren’t entirely certain the message hadn’t gotten out clearly, if the pissed off look on Feitan’s face was anything to go by, but you weren’t entirely certain that hadn’t been there prior as the man seemed to wear a scowl frequently.

“What…happened…?” Feitain asked and you could feel Chrollo shift, looking at them while maintaining the comforting stroking on your hair.

“I’m not sure. I came up here to check on her when I felt a spike in aura and heard her crying out. I couldn’t sense another presence outside of her own, but we’ve met nen users capable of cloaking themselves before. However, when I came in, she was thrashing about, when I woke up her…the same thing that happened to you happened to me.”

“Clearly not as hard though. You seem fine. I feel like I’m going to be sore for days after that power she just threw at us.” Franklin muttered rubbing at his arm and stomach.

“Such…a…. baby…” Feitan muttered, earning a side-eyed glare from Franklin.

“I wouldn’t say it was any less powerful, it was more like she registered who was in the room with her right as she threw the power out. I’m almost certain she did the same with you, and my presence so close by also muted her attack, afraid she’d hurt me in an effort to harm you two.”

Franklin and Feitan looked from Chrollo to you and then back to Chrollo before looking at each other in disbelief. “You’re saying that wasn’t her full power?” Franklin asked, the shock and awe clearly evident in his voice.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I can’t even begin to feel the depths of her power, let alone where it ends.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, all three men seemingly having a silent conversation that you were not perve to, nor did you think you ever would be. You had known from the start, regardless of what degree of comradery you obtained with these people you would always be an outsider, never allowed to fully know the scope of everything. You’d never be told all of the details, never know the full extent of all of their abilities, never know the ins and outs of it all. And you did not mind that, not at the moment at least, because for what you did not know, you had come to understand that these were dangerous people, people that were probably on several hit lists and wanted by many…and you did not know if you ever wanted to truly be associated with them.

While sitting in the tub, you’d come to the conclusion that you would use them to obtain the skills necessary to save your younger siblings…and that would be the extent of it. You were not a killer, did not fancy yourself someone who killed for sport or out of the desire to prove you were stronger or better than others. No, you did not believe your wants in life to align at all with those of the people in this group nor did you think they ever would. So you’d do what was necessary to be able to get your siblings back, to be able to protect them and keep them safe till they were capable of doing as such on their own. But once you’d achieved that goal…you were as good as gone.

#Dancing with the Devil(s)#fic #Hunter X Hunter #Hisoka #Hisoka fic #Chrollo #Chrollo fic #illumi zoldyck #illumi fic #reader insert fic #adult trio

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

Text

Six Phases 006 Pt 2

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: sorry not sorry 😇🚗💨🔥

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut ]

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Somehow, waking up early on Saturday mornings had become a routine since that weekend. Between the plague-like thoughts that disrupted my sleep and how Baekhyun cutely requested for breakfast the next morning, I dragged my tired body out of bed and quickly whipped up some bacon with scrambled eggs. He insisted that my cooking was the best before the flavor even settled fully onto his tongue, counteracting my every protest with flustering compliments. I recall accidentally telling him he was full of shit—it was only a simple meal, after all. What is that compared to the hundreds of fancy restaurants he has dined in?

"Your food tastes like home," He argued between pacifying whines, back-hugging me in a way that always weakens my defenses. I begrudgingly agreed after convincing him to have turkey bacon from time to time. Pork has its place, and I preferably don't enjoy the breakfast variety all too often.

It's ridiculous what lengths I would go for this infuriatingly attractive man. If my weekend to-do list full of breakfast, groceries, and laundry is anything to go by, I wouldn't oppose being considered as "whipped" for him. It is what it is, man.

Every Saturday I am up and running by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon. Regardless of how late I end up sleeping the night before, my eyes automatically open between the hours of 6 and 7; ready to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Thankfully Baekhyun is a heavy sleeper who is content with hugging my pillow to his chest while I sneak off to the kitchen.

The aches in my body become very apparent the moment my foot touches the carpeted floor of our bedroom, a familiar feeling—welcomed almost, though I'd never tell Baekhyun that. His ego when it comes to things like this is big enough as it is.

Suppressing a shiver at the wintry morning air, I reach for his discarded shirt from the night before, tsking quietly at the two buttons missing from the top of the material. I swear he's the most annoyingly endearing man I've ever met. There's no other explanation for why I'm already planning what time to sew the buttons back on, carefully picking them up from the floor and leaving them on top of our shared dresser.

Luckily the remaining buttons are enough to shield my shoulders from the cold of the large apartment; the bottom of the shirt brushing against the back of my thighs as I make my way out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. In times like these I am grateful for Baekhyun's habit of leaving his house-slippers right outside of our bedroom. I rarely use mine despite his constant chastising. Some things in life are better bare.

Slipping into the slippers with ease, a smile tugs at my lips while shuffling quietly down the hallway. I usually keep breakfast simple: scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon—maybe a pancake or two on a particularly good morning. Today, however, I'm in the mood for something more. Omelets, cinnamon buns, and the little sausages Baekhyun has adored lately.

Checking on the buns in the small conventional oven on the counter, I whisk away at the raw eggs that will make up Baekhyun's omelet, smoothing out the yolk entirely. A light breeze and soft kiss pressed to my shoulder break me out of my concentration. I could recognize those pouty lips anywhere.

"You're up early," I murmur, leaning back against his chest. Tilting my head up, I smile at his cute sleepy expression.

"Mmm," He manages to capture my lips in an upside-down kiss that melts me to my very core, his warm fingers seeping through the fabric of my borrowed shirt. "What are you up to?"

"Breakfast," I breathe, cheeks warming as he pulls away, quickly checking on the sizzling frying pan in front of me before he can catch me admiring his bare torso. "I got the sausages you like, Bae."

"Bae?"

The top of my head nearly slams into the bottom of the cabinets as I freeze in my tracks, frying pan clutched in hand. Shit, did I say that out loud? My face might as well be 50 shades of red. "I—I mean-"

Baekhyun plants a kiss on my head that throws my every thought out the window. "I love you." He hums, hugging me warmly before walking to the dining table. The view of his bare back as he runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair is way too captivating for six-thirty in the damn morning.

I put my attention back on the pan, hurriedly removing it from the burner to slide the sausages onto a tray. 30 more seconds and I would have burned the damn things had I not shaken myself back into focus. "Jenny and the gang are coming over today."

"Today?"

I raise a brow at his tone. The high-pitched inquiry of his voice at the mention of his friends is a little suspect. Who was the genius that bragged so much about my BBQ short ribs everyone ended up inviting themselves over to our apartment? Shouldn't he remember our plans for tonight?

"Yes?" I drag out, tilting my head, looking at him skeptically with a hand on my hip, raising my spatula. "Did you forget?"

His silent form sitting rigidly at the table is enough of an answer. "N-" I raise my other brow. "Erm—M-Maybe?"

"Uh-huh." If he wasn't so adorable after just waking up with his lips tutted in a confused pout, I would give him hell. "I bought groceries yesterday, so we're only missing the wine-"

"I'm on it." Baekhyun perks up in his chair as if douched in cold water, pulling his phone out of nowhere. "Hyerin," He murmurs groggily, fumbling clumsily for a couple of seconds and slapping it to his ear in his hurry. "I need a bottle of Dom Perignon by 6:30. Thank you." The call is over in the span of 10 seconds. He sets the device next to his glass of orange juice on the table, busying himself with gulping down half of its contents. It takes a while for him to notice my bewildered gaze. "What?" He mumbles; orange pulp on his pouty lips.

I narrow my eyes, lowering the grease-covered frying pan back to the stove. "Who was that?" And how the fuck you just ordering Dom Perignon as if it doesn't cost my entire education expenses? If you just bought the $50k edition, I swear, Byun Baekhyun—"My new secretary." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head with a soft, content smile. "Come here." He mumbles, opening them towards me, his sleepy brown orbs fluttering sluggishly. "I miss you."

For a moment I just stare at him. "I'm right here..." I mutter softly, growing more aware of his current state by the minute. Those dark circles are committing the worst crime by being on his precious face. Carefully sliding his omelet onto a plate followed by a few pieces of sausage, I can't help laughing a little to myself at the comparison of our meals. His omelet managed to come out better than the one I made for me, perfectly solid compared to my result of scrambled eggs. No matter what, he gets the very best from me—I'm taking the biggest cinnamon bun though. That delicious treat has my name written all over it, it's mine for the taking. Besides, I can risk a sugar-crash unlike Mr. 12 hour shifts over there. Noting his drowsy form nodding off at the table, I quickly reach over to start the coffeemaker.

The smile that lights up his face as I present his food to him makes up for the few seconds I burnt my hand earlier, trying my best not to burn our whole apartment down. Note to self: never daydream about eventful Friday nights while leaning over a hot stove. Had I been slower to react, I'd be nursing my hand back to health with a frazzled boyfriend refusing to let me so much as brush my teeth on my own—it gets overwhelming after the first day, trust me.

Settling down on his lap under the persuasive encouragements falling from his irresistible lips, I hold up a piece of sausage to shush his drowsy mumblings. As cute as he is, he needs his morning protein before he can wake up and function properly. Especially after working 60 hours two weeks in a row. I respect his enthusiasm as a semi-workaholic myself, but damn am I worried. What kind of crazily time-consuming clothing line is going on in his beautiful head this time?

Baekhyun finishes his juice while I pick at my food, lazily twirling his hair between my fingers. Some days I ask myself why I’m still here, why I still try, why I continue on in this relationship that has more blurred lines than direct answers about our future. To tell the truth... I never expected to fall in love again. I never saw this coming—never saw him coming, when my sole way of survival has been spotting things from miles away. How did it come to this? How the hell did this man sneak past all my defenses so easily?

Maybe it was the smile he shot my way the first time we met or the way we had danced that Friday night, his body seeming to match so perfectly with mine. His comforting presence and sweet, brown eyes that hold all the stars in the universe. The countless late nights he has spent looking after me when I caught the flu from a combination of lack of sleep, stress, and poor life choices. He's always been there—always been here with me, but why… Why isn’t it enough? What is missing? How can I strip this weight off my chest that suffocates me more by the day?

"Baby?" Baekhyun's warm voice caresses my ear, comforting arms tightening around me.

"What if it happens again?" Jenny's worried face flashes vividly in my mind.

The memories come pouring in, making my mouth go dry as a lump forms in my throat. It takes everything in me to drag my eyes up to meet Baekhyun's inquiring orbs, plastering on another smile. The gesture is easier to manage with every sweet kiss his soft pillows plant on my lips. His heart-fluttering touch distracts my hyperactive mind for a while.

"Damn, Riley." Chanyeol practically moans, the sampling spoon I had offered him left to dangle pre-cautiously between his fingers. "Had I known you could cook like this, I would have come soon—ah!"

"Yah," Baekhyun scowls as I take the last serving plate from the counter to the table with a bashful smile, passing the tall man clutching the back of his head. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." He mutters, lowering his hand, voice deepening in an unfairly attractive manner. "Watch your mouth."

"Geez." The giant huffs, glaring at him under the veil of his blonde hair. "You'd think you two were married with that—okay, okay!"

"When you two are done." The over-the-top chirp of my voice catches their attention; both their eyes widening like guilty little kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. "Dinner is ready."

"Don't let me eat it all." Jongdae drawls, throwing an arm over the back of Jenny's chair, looking at them lazily, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Remember what happened last time."

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble for their seats as if their asses have been set on fire; an unusually quiet Jongin follows behind them, carrying a plate I forgot all about.

"Thank you." I gasp, quickly making room for the forgotten dish. "Set it down here, please."

Jongin nods, setting down the plate of cucumber salad next to the servings of Bulgogi. "I'm sorry Kyungsoo couldn't make it." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something came up at the restaurant."

"It's alright. Wanna pack a to-go plate for him?" Tilting my head, I smile in understanding at the sheepish expression on his face. "If you think he'd like my food, anyway," I joke, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I continue to face him, relieved at the familiar hint of playfulness restored in his eyes.

"Oh he's going to love it," Chanyeol insists with a pleased hum, yelping at the smack Jenny lands on his sneaky hand.

"Where are your manners, Park?" She sighs, shaking her head, fiery red curls bouncing with the motion.

"Save some for the rest of us, asshole." Jongdae grumbles, subtly eyeing the cucumber salad.

Everyone's plate already has a soft taco shell, warm from a few seconds in the microwave. The toppings are placed on top of the two tables Baekhyun and I had to push together to accommodate our guests: fresh Korean lettuce, sour cream, and other ingredients that Jenny helped me choose—especially that bowl of melted nacho-cheese Jongin keeps taking glances at.

We all look towards Baekhyun once he settles in his seat. He leans forward to reach the middle of the table, bypassing the regular bulgogi for the one drenched in a home-made sauce, spooning some on my taco shell with a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Eat up, everyone," He murmurs sweetly, tired brown eyes twinkling.

Jongdae doesn't even fake-gag with Chanyeol and Jongin, he goes straight for the cucumber salad. The fresh smell wafts in the air amongst the various meat and spices, making Baekhyun's nose crinkle adorably. I carefully brush his freshly dyed hair out of his eyes, chuckling at the pout he shoots my way. "Did you really have to make cucumber salad, baby? Cucumber?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Byun," Jongdae mutters, forgoing his personal bowl to grab the whole serving. No one says a word, we just share knowing smiles. And once Chanyeol pops the cork of the expensive Dom Perignon, the real party begins.

Endless tales of embarrassing high school cafeteria incidents spill forth from Jongdae's mouth as if shame has gone out of style. The details he shares at the expense of Chanyeol's seemingly innocent public image flying out the window right along with it.

"One second this guy looked like he was taking the biggest shit of his life, and the next thing I know, Lee Naeun from 5th period Physics is crawling out from under the table, wiping spulge from her lips. Like, Chanyeol, what the actual fuck bro? Couldn't you have taken your business to the 3rd floor Janitor's closet? I think I still have the key..."

If it wasn't for Baekhyun's quick hands, I would've sprayed a mouthful of wine across the entire table.

Unfortunately, Jongin had to head out right after dinner, promising to meet up again soon before hurrying to Kyungsoo's house, two plates clutched in hand. Chanyeol decided to stick around for longer to "let his two glasses of wine wear off"—this man has the metabolism of a beast, we know why he's really here. His reason is comfortably seated next to Jenny on our striped couch, sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Dinner was nice," Jenny smiles, sipping leisurely at her water.

"More than nice." Chanyeol boosts from our leather recliner, raising his glass, tipping his head at me. "Your food damn near tops Kyungsoo's," He pauses, brown eyes widening. "Don't tell him I said that."

"No worries," I laugh softly, hiding in the safety of Baekhyun's shoulder. He shifts towards me, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against my forehead in a way that leaves my heart shaking. The white loveseat we're sitting on sinks further under our joined weight, and really, there's no place I'd rather be—except our king sized bed, that is. Baekhyun's firm grip on my bare thigh isn't helping my tipsy trance in the slightest. The universe knows I'd rather be getting drunk off of him right now.

"I'm going for a smoke," Jongdae mutters, rising from the couch. He leans down to Jenny for a kiss that leaves her beaming, going to retrieve his trench coat and shoes before slipping out of the door.

Good to see them doing well; I blink in surprise, smiling teasingly her way. I'm happy for her! It really is a pleasant surprise to see Jongdae stating their relationship in such a way; an immense improvement from their past encounters of Jenny nervously seeking affection and Jongdae down-right dodging it like his life depends on it. Public displays of affection are a sweet, straightforward way to say, "hey, this person means a lot to me," or, "back off, they're mine." Which personally sets me on romantic fire. Even if it's just holding hands, it can put me in high spirits—doing it with a certain, cheeky silver-haired man is just a bonus.

Jenny winks, fanning her cheeks that match the rosy shade of her hair before tuning in to Chanyeol's loud chatter.

Soft laughter rumbles in Baekhyun's chest as he engages in the conversation. His warm palm securely holds my hand when I slip my cold palm into his warm one. He presses a kiss to the back of it, pulling a silent giggle from my lips as he smiles at me with an arched brow, squeezing our intertwined fingers.

"Riley?"

I drag my eyes up to Jenny who's loosening her red curls by running her fingers through them. "Yeah?"

"Jongdae's not answering his cell," She murmurs with a worried frown. "Can you go check on him, please?"

And why can't you do it? — Or come with me for that matter? I raise a brow, getting up from the chair and Baekhyun's warmth with a silent sigh. "Okay. I'll be back." If I get kidnapped or spooked by some random asshole, she'll never hear the end of it. I really should ask Baekhyun to teach me a thing or two about hakipdo though.

Jenny beams, a peculiar twinkle in her eye, clasping my hand between hers. "Thank you!"

Uh-huh... I try not to eye her too warily.

"Take my coat, baby," Baekhyun murmurs, kissing the side of my wrist. "It's cold out."

"O-Okay." I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the smug smiles of the other two in the room while walking over to the coat hanger.

Slipping on his brown, cinnamon-scented coat brings a giddy smile to lips—one I'm quick to hide in the soft fabric.

I slide on my boots before making my way to the elevator, not up for taking the 4 levels of stairs this late at night. Thankfully, that nosy neighbor down the hall isn't meeting me at the elevator tonight on one of his various late-night escapades. I've had enough awkward encounters with his lovers to last me a lifetime.

The lobby is empty except for a lone security guard who waves my way, face lit up in familiarity. Smiling back, I step out the crystal-clean glass doors of the building into the quiet night, quickly finding the man I'm looking for standing at the edge of the sidewalk. "Jongdae."

"Huh?" He looks over his shoulder, turning halfway at the sight of me, pulling a joint from his lips.

"You alright?" I pull Baekhyun's coat tighter around me, resisting the urge to shiver in the icy wind. "Jenny was looking for you."

"Looking for-" He chuckles, brown hair ruffling as he throws his head back in laughter. "Girl, please. I was instructed to come down here 5 minutes ago." He continues, inhaling deeply from the stick between his fingertips. "She ain't looking for me, she's looking for a way for them to chat privately and to make us talk..." He sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not exactly the best company for deep shit."

"O-kay then," I mumble, more than a little peeved, ready to turn on my heel in any direction other than stay here.

"Let's talk." He shrugs, exhaling smoke into the frosty air. I shoot him a wary look, barely taking a step in his direction. "I said let's talk, not have a screaming match." He mutters, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Why you all the way over there?" He follows my gaze to the stick between his fingers. "What? This?" He scoffs, smirking. "It's a joint, worst thing you'll get is the munchies."

Crinkling my nose, I take a couple more steps closer anyway, standing beside him, keeping a respectful distance between us.

"Listen." He sighs, taking another drag. "I know I've done some things that… I didn't necessarily have to do." He glances at me for a moment, and then faces the street lights. "Bros before hoes, you know?"

Yeah, I inwardly roll my eyes, focusing on a lonely snowflake evaporating before it reaches the ground. There's a lot to be said over people doing things that they didn't necessarily have to do. If I had a dime for every sleepless night I've had because of Jongdae's shameless mouth, I wouldn't be paying off my student loans anymore.

"Look." Jongdae takes one last drag, crushing the joint under his worn-out winter boots. "The way he is now is much better than the Baekhyun we knew back then." He nods a little to himself, meeting my gaze. "Still can't see why he decided to change his ways for you...but oh well." He mutters, lips quirking into a playful smirk at my small smile before facing the city lights again. Festival lamp-shaped snowflakes attached to the top of every streetlight beam against the dim backdrop of empty downtown buildings, prepared for the coming holidays. "You're alright for a best friend stealer."

A laugh escapes before I can slap my hands over my mouth, meeting his eye nervously only for us to both end up laughing; our amusement echoing loudly through the quiet night.

"Riley?" Jenny's confused voice peeps up, red curls rebelling against the hood of her fluffy white coat.

"Over here!" I cup my hand around my mouth, waving to get her attention.

She turns towards us, rounding the corner with quick strides. "There you are! I thought you got grabbed or something." She fusses, resting a hand on my arm, leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "Especially you. Baekhyun was two seconds from hunting you down with my head on his mantle."

"Jenny!" I snort, accepting her tight hug, my voice muffled in her puffy coat. "It kinda would be your fault though."

"I know!" She exclaims, viewing me from an arm's length away. "I was sweating out my hair."

"Baby?" That unmistakable honey voice calls. A head of fluffy silver locks and brown eyes peek around the building, catching light in the streetlights.

"Here, B," I soothe, chuckling as he speeds over to us, gathering me in his arms without hesitation.

"I thought I lost you," He mutters, hiding in my hair.

"She was gone for ten minutes," Jongdae deadpans.

"Ten minutes too long!" He pulls back to glare over at the brunet, hugging me to his chest with cheeks too rosy to be merely from a few moments out in the cold.

"Just how much of that wine did you drink?.." I narrow my eyes, cupping his flushed cheeks.

"Good thing you only bought one bottle," Jenny laughs nervously, slowly gravitating to shelter behind Jongdae's taller form.

"Enough to miss you." Baekhyun's breath leaves goosebumps on my chilled skin, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Al-right, time to go before the lovebirds start mating." Jongdae grumbles, wrapping an arm around Jenny's beaming form. Their matching smirks have me scurrying to direct my tipsy boyfriend back towards our apartment.

"Uh—okay! See you guys next time!" I laugh to mask my burning face, gently pushing Baekhyun into the building.

"Goodnight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jenny sing-songs, the smugness clear in her tone.

"Can't make any promises!" Baekhyun proclaims over his shoulder, much to my embarrassment. Thankfully he quiets down once we reach the elevator, but based on the wide eyed security guard, the damage has already been done.

Can the frozen ground just please open up and swallow me whole?

The view of this busy street differs from all the other times I've walked down it with Baekhyun by my side. Maybe because it's been almost 2 years since I've moved to this city, or that new boutique being set up at the end of the road. Whatever the case, the air is different—crisper, cleaner. Refreshing as I briskly walk to my destination, wanting to avoid being out in the cold as much as possible. The weather here is so much colder in the middle of December compared to how flowers were still budding around this time outside of my childhood home.

Humming a song that's been stuck in my head for days with my car keys spinning around my finger, I stroll into Privé Alliance's building, admiring the latest clothing line pictures hung up along the walls and waving to the new receptionist while making my way to the elevator. Many men and women in business attire are all over the place as per usual during the busiest months of the year. However, once I make it out of the crowd of chattering employees, the sight of a familiar face waiting in front of the elevator brings a smile to my face. "Kyungsoo!"

The short-haired man turns around. "Hello, Riley." He nods with a small smile as we step inside the open doors, pressing the buttons to the 5th and top floor. "Lunch date?"

"Hmm?.." Blinking a few times, I follow his gaze to the picnic basket clutched in my hand. "Oh! Yes." I chuckle, smoothing down my hair. "Sorry." Between nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way over here and the pretty lights decorated all over the city, I've forgotten the reason I left our fridge in a disarray this morning. Who decided to store the sandwich meats at the back of the refrigerator? I know Baekhyun loves my home cooking, but damn, man, let me have a break too.

"It's alright." Kyungsoo chuckles, arching a brow. "Hopefully you can get him to relax."

"Relax? Coming from you!?" I gasp sarcastically, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

"Only because he's seconds away from firing half the 3rd floor." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, yet an apologetic smile forms on his face. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the gathering." He clears his throat while facing forward again, straightening his suit.

"It's alright," I smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at his flustered state, checking my outfit in the elevator's reflection. It may be a chilling 40 degrees—4 in celsius—but I can spare the warmth of my legs for a 2 minute walk from Privé's parking lot. No weather can tell me what I can and can't wear. If I want to rock a pencil skirt on the coldest day of the week, so be it! Plus, these two-inch heels couldn't be left behind. I can't show up at Baekhyun's workplace with the poor fashion choices I subject him to at home, so we're going, coolness over comfort.

"Life happens," I mumble, tucking rebellious locks of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're doing okay." The smile that forms on his heart-shaped lips when I take a glance at him makes me beam back.

"I'll stop by sometime this week." He hums, black dress shoes tapping on the floor. "I just finished a new recipe."

"Recipe?" I blink, mildly intrigued, mentally running over the list of food I'm carrying for the 3rd time today.

"Fried ice cream cake," He smirks, nonchalantly checking his watch.

"Fried-" My jaw damn near drops to the floor. Fried? Fried!? The one ice cream Baekhyun banned me from attempting myself after burning my hand while frying fish a few days ago?! Which Baekhyun is half to blame, by the way—never sneak up on someone over a popping frying pan. It never ends well. Besides that, it also was the day I truly realized the stamina that man possesses. I have never seen someone react so quickly to shove my hand under ice-cold water in my life.

Searching for any cameras in the elevator, I step a little closer to the short-haired man, whispering discreetly behind my hand, "W-Will you bring me some?"

"The prettiest one," He promises, softly patting my shoulder, chuckling at the star-struck expression written all over my face. "This is me, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" I blink into focus, shocked to be on the 5th floor so soon. What the heck. What is it about elevator rides with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo that make them go by lightning-fast compared to the stifling, tension-filled ones with Jongdae? If you can read a room, it truly makes a difference. "Oh, don't let me keep you." I give a little wave, balancing the picnic basket on my forearm. "See you later!"

Kyungsoo nods, smiling with a wave of his own as the double doors close. It is at that moment that I freeze, recalling how Baekhyun mentioned he hired a new secretary a few weeks back. Well... shit—how do I explain why I'm arriving at his floor unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon?

Do his employees even know we are dating?.. A small part of me doubts it. Why do I care? Oh, right—I fucking live with him!

By some miracle, no one is occupying the neatly arranged desk when the elevator opens on the top floor, saving me from the completely rushed explanation I have no idea how to even put into words. All that lies before me is an undisturbed walk to Baekhyun's office, the intimidating black door slightly ajar. I slip off my heels, rushing out of the elevator on sock-clad feet before the doors close. Baekhyun's businessman voice filters through the quiet air. He must be on the phone.

Shuffling as quietly as possible down the hallway, I peek into his office. My eyes quickly find his broad form leaning a hip against his executive desk, a phone pressed to his ear as he faces the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the heart of Seoul. Impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free, white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His black blazer thrown over the back of his chair. Like always, the splashes of color in every corner of the room have my lips curling up, but I have to muffle a small giggle at the sight of a thin pink measuring tape hanging around his neck.

I slowly inch closer, discarding my coat and setting down the basket in one of the leather chairs. Smoothing my flower-patterned, white button-down shirt, I silently approach him, gently covering his eyes once he ends the call. "Guess who~"

Baekhyun stiffens for a moment before swiftly turning around, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up, setting me down on his desk. He cups my cheeks in his warm palms, crashing his lips to mine before I can make a sound. "Thank god, it's you." He breathes, warm fingers sliding into my hair.

"W-Well—hello to you too." I barely manage to get out between his feverous kisses, making a noise in surprise when he pulls me flush to his chest. "What is it?" I ask softly, noticing the bothered look on his face; carefully running my fingers through his styled hair as he hides in my neck. "Another long day?"

"You have no idea." He sighs, looking up at me. "I was 2 seconds away from losing it."

"Don't-" I pause, thinking about it. A few memories of last week flash through my mind. "Well, you are kind of hot when you're angry..." In the proper context.

Baekhyun perks up, exhausted brown eyes regaining their sparkle. "Really?"

I hum to appease his hopeful expression, yelping when he pulls me into his arms, not expecting to be carried up from the desk so suddenly.

"Come here," He murmurs, walking around to sit in his chair, setting me on his lap. "I need strength to get through these reports."

Gently playing with his hair to calm down my racing heart, I tilt my head, "Do you have time for a lunch break?"

Baekhyun hums distractedly, kissing my forehead, holding me closer to his firm chest. "We can order in a little later."

Kyungsoo's words come back to mind while I watch Baekhyun continue to click around his computer, brown eyes squinted and brows furrowing more by the minute. I inwardly cringe at the move I'm about to pull, but… Our sandwiches' lifespan is ticking away. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"But…" I pout, resting my hands flat on his chest, widening my eyes for effect as his focused orbs shift to meet mine. "But I made it."

"Let's eat now then," Baekhyun smiles, his steady gaze flickering all over my person. I swear I just witnessed his pupils dilating right before my very eyes. "Give me 5 minutes."

My lips quirk up, "One-"

"I'll set a timer." He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for his phone between his bright screen laptop and desktop PC.

Smiling in victory, I stretch across the desk to retrieve the basket, peeking at his computer accidentally. "Holy shit, is that Melody Hudson?" I straighten up, focusing on the magazine cover opened up on a famous website. "The model?" My eyes widen in awe of her tall blonde form modeling a stunning royal blue summer dress; the color bringing out the blue in her shining eyes. I place the basket on a clear spot on Baekhyun's crowded desk before rubbing his stiff shoulders. He must still be tense from work. "She's so pretty."

Baekhyun hums, placing a hand on my cheek. His gentle caress coaxes my eyes back to his. "But you're beautiful," He whispers, resting his forehead on mine, brushing a thumb over my lips.

There's nowhere to hide the red hue that springs onto my face, making him chuckle as I quickly turn back to start taking out our food.

"Would you like to accompany me to a photoshoot?" The tentative tone of his voice has me raising a brow.

"Sure!" Handing him his sandwich, I press a kiss to his cheek, carefully unwrapping my homemade fries. "I'd love to see you work behind the scenes."

"Actually..."

I look at him, mid-bite of my toasted turkey sandwich.

"I'll be in the scenes," He drops, soft lips quirking a boyish grin.

My grip on my sandwich rips a hole in the middle while preventing it from falling out of my hands. "I…"—Behind the scenes witnessing Baekhyun modeling?? With his god-tier body and knee-weakening smirks that have me crumbling from beyond a screen alone? Hell to the mother fucking yes! "O-Okay."

Baekhyun's brown orbs twinkle knowingly, an amused smile forming on his lips as he presses them to mine. "Great."

It's impossible to mask my excitement while slipping into the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. The beautiful red highlights around the black interior never fail to leave my jaw dropped in awe, fingertips tempted to graze over every surface. I'd like to think a person's dream car matches their owner, and there's no denying how devilishly divine my boyfriend looks settling into the driver's seat.

Baekhyun's simple, black button-down shirt and matching jeans have me inwardly salivating—I don't even have the slightest clue of why he's going to a photoshoot today. Privé? A cover for a magazine? Possibilities are endless, but not just anyone can request an hour of his time during one of the busiest months of the year.

"Are you ready?" Baekhyun glances over at me, his unstyled hair tucked under a Privé corduroy camel baseball cap that I haven't quite seen before.

"Yes," I beam at him, tilting my head curiously. "Is that hat new? I don't think I've seen it before."

Baekhyun smirks, brown eyes glinting mischievously as he straps on his seatbelt. "Maybe." He rests a hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, backing out of his designated parking space. "Hold on tight, baby. You're in for a long ride."

I blink, having no clue what kind of ride he means. When it comes to Baekhyun, you never know what you're getting yourself into, but you never really have to worry about it either. If I hadn't known him for a few years, I would have bugged him to tell me where we're going for the entire ride. But with a few years under our belt—and some long months spent sharing a close-knitted home—I can comfortably sit back and relax for the whole journey, because there is no Baekhyun without one.

•••

The parking lot outside of the building is relatively calm, with only a few staff members bringing in materials from their cars. Inside of the place, however, is a complete madhouse. Everyone is speed-walking to various rooms and popping up from behind every corner. Not a drop of silence in the heavily populated area.

"There's our man of the hour!" A tall, aged man steps forward to shake Baekhyun's hand, carefully cradling a camera strapped around his neck. "So glad you could make it. I hope we are not taking up too much of your time?" He inquires, pushing glasses further up his nose, glancing over at me.

"Oh no, of course not!" Baekhyun shakes his head, shifting closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "I invited my girlfriend to accompany me today." He clears his throat, reddening cheeks caught under the harsh spotlights. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," The man reassures, gesturing towards a staff member who quickly brings over a grey single-seat sofa. "The more the merrier. Here you go, Madam. Is the chair to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you," I smile, trying not to stutter, brushing my fingertips over Baekhyun's warm palm before taking a seat. He shoots me a little bashful grin as the photographer whisks him away, a team of stylists directing him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. It's amusing to see so many people fussing over his hair, pulling out hairspray, and presenting him with simple yet sexy articles of clothing.

A few other models are walking around in the same attire, giving off a cool vibe of the newest clothing line, but when Baekhyun steps out of a dressing room…

Holy shit.

No, seriously holy shit!

Baekhyun walks into the room, standing against a wall as stylists comb his hair over to the left side of his face, using sprites of hairspray to tuck the right side behind his ear. As if he doesn't look dangerous enough adorning a leather jacket, a black shirt with white scribbles I can barely make out from this distance, and camel pants with unique, black low-platinum shoes.

The staff directs him over to the area with a gray backdrop, lights and cameras focused all over the place. Baekhyun practically glides over there, oozing with that stunning Ceo confidence. At a closer look, I can make out the pretty image of open and outstretched hands in the white lines at the bottom of his shirt. The intriguing detail has my full attention until I feel a persistent stare.

I lift my eyes higher to meet Baekhyun's dark brown orbs—from me sitting in the back of the room or getting into character; I have no idea. Suddenly my red knitted sweater is a bit too warm despite not being in front of any bright lights. Just when I think it can't get any worse, the photographer announces that it's time to begin.

If I had known what I agreed to the other day, I would have been more prepared—or so I'd like to think. I mean, how does one prepare their feelings for watching their unfairly attractive, multi-millionaire boyfriend pose for the camera as if moments away from sweeping them off of their feet!? And not in a sweet way either. Nah, ain't nothing innocent about the lethal expression swirling within his dark brown orbs. Especially while they are pointed right at me.

The hairstyle they gave him just makes my situation worse. How am I supposed to sit still with this man gazing so intensely into the "camera"? Is this really the same drowsy Baekhyun who I have to wake up every Sunday morning? Where did his tiredness go? There ain't nothing exhausted about the way he is staring at me! And when they bring out a chair for him to sit on… No. Hell no. That's it.

Draping my sweater over the back of my chair has his covered lips curling up at the corners, I just fucking know it.

After a few more camera flashes, the stylists are back with a new outfit in tow, gesturing for Baekhyun to change. However, right as he is turning down the short hallway leading to the dressing room, someone comes rushing into the building.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" A petite woman with a French accent flies into the hall. "Traffic was-" She skids to a halt, staring at Baekhyun as if she's seen a ghost, her brown wavy hair mid-loop of making a bun. For a long moment, nobody says a word, and then she's on the move, crossing the short distance within two furious strides.

Her slap echoes across the tall walls.

"To think I waited for you." She grits out between heated spews of French. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears shoot daggers into Baekhyun's wide-eyed ones. "To think I held onto the fact that maybe you actually cared." Her whole body shakes as staff members rush over to restrain her, calling her name over her loud obscenities in an attempt to calm her down, trying to pull her away from him before she can jump him. It takes three men to drag her back out of the building. A woman from the small crowd quickly follows, dropping a blue clipboard in her haste. We hear her panicked voice a split second before the door slams shut behind them.

I don't know when or how it happens, but I'm already on the other side of the room, reaching out for a stunned Baekhyun being fussed over by stylists. "Baekhyun?" My eyes flicker all over his shock-stricken face once they move out of the way for me. A lump forms in my throat at the look in his eyes. "B," I tentatively place my hand over his frozen one on his cheek, the red handprint visible between his fingers. "Baekhyun!"

He flinches, shaky pupils focusing on me. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Emotions grip at my throat, making it hard to speak while my eyes keep shifting between his alarmed ones and his steadily bruising cheek. I take the ice pack a staff member hands over without a word, gently brushing his hand away to hold it to his face. "Come here."

Baekhyun silently follows me to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as stylists vacate the room, closing the door on their way out. I lead him over to a swivel chair in front of a white vanity table, letting him settle before speaking. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He mumbles, breaking my heart at the sight of him pressing ice to his swelling cheek.

"You know what I'm talking about." Crossing my arms, I continue staring him down. "Who was that woman, Baekhyun? Why did she hit you?"

"I'll tell you later, baby." He avoids my eye and his reflection in the mirror, getting up from the chair. "Let's wrap this photoshoot up, hmm? Then we'll go home-"

Stumbling to reach the door before he does, I block his escape, looking into his conflicted eyes. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you answer me."

His lips twitch, "Baby-"

I cross my arms despite my racing heart, my stomach twisting in an ignored warning. "I need answers-"

"For fuck's sake, Riley!" He thunders, startling me so much I slam the back of my head on the doorframe. "Out of my fucking way."

I step aside without another word, turning my head away as he storms out of the room. The slamming door left in his wake has my heart jumping into my throat. Anxiety grips at my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. I latch onto a Privé clothing rack, holding onto it for stability.

Baekhyun's tone on the other side of the door is much calmer while talking to one of the staff. I wait for a few minutes, resting against the clothing rack until his voice drifts away; the loud taps of his shoes fading into the distance. No matter how far away he is—most likely continuing on with the photoshoot by the faint clicks of a camera echoing around the quiet building—I don't… I can't; I won't go back out there to watch him. No, not after that. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity heard what just happened.

Slipping out of the room, I gasp when I bump into someone else, my heart beating so hard it hurts to breathe. Could this day get any worse? Seriously? "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine," The same staff member I heard minutes ago with Baekhyun shakes her head, smiling in sympathy. "Tough morning, huh?"

I can only manage a deep exhale, nodding, "I guess you could say that, u-um—" I'm losing the battle against the sting steadily building behind my eyes. "Do you know where the bathroom is by any chance?"

"Just around the corner," She nods, pointing farther down the hallway. "First door on your left."

"Thank you," I breathe, hurrying down the hall. Before I can pass by her, however, I notice her angrily marking out a name with a black sharpie from the same blue clipboard that clattered to the floor earlier.

Nicole. The woman they dragged out earlier…

With tears finally breaking free from my sore eyes, I couldn't have reached the bathroom fast enough.

To my relief, the room is empty. Nothing but painfully bright lights and the porcelain floors to witness my current state. I walk up to the sinks with a shaky sigh, splattering cold water on my face. My reflection isn't a pretty sight to behold when I look into the mirror, bracing my hands on the countertop as I take in the streaks of mascara running down my face. The one day I decide to wear a non-fool-proof kind and this is what I get?

Sighing, I turn to lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms. The photoshoot is back in full swing with all the compliments the photographer is showering Baekhyun in. It's pretty pathetic of me to hide out in this ice-cold bathroom, but I rather shiver for a few minutes than face him right now. Something about the way he reacted earlier... To that woman, to me—doesn't feel right. Maybe I pushed him too far? I just… Do I not have the right to know who just slapped the hell out of my boyfriend? Hell yeah, I'll admit I want to know who she is because he's mine and she was acting as if she was waiting forever for him to recuperate her feelings, but it's not just about that. No—Nah. The deer in headlights expression on his face as her hand collided with his cheek will not leave my mind.

Whatever it is, whatever just transpired in front of me; something is off and I rather be out the line of fire while trying to figure it out.

"To think I waited for you" For what? For when? With the way things are going, I might never know the answer.

The lack of chatter filtering through the echoing walls of the room catches my attention. I tentatively peek out of the bathroom, stepping back into the hallway at the uncharacteristically quiet state of the building. Is the shoot over already? Pushing past my dimly lit surroundings, I head back to the dressing room, hesitantly standing in the open doorway. I'm confused to not find Baekhyun there, or in the main area when I poke my head over the edge of the short hallway.

"Excuse me?" I approach the nearest stylist, moving out the way of another one clumsily carrying out articles of clothing. "Have you seen Baekhyun?"

She shakes her head with a pop of her minty gum, giving me a solemn look. "Last I saw of him, he was on his way to the men's room on the other side of the building."

"Ah..." Dread fills my stomach, and something tells me that I rather not find out why. "Thank you," I murmur in passing, quickly making my way back out of the room, speeding down to the opposite hallway. The possibility that I got left behind in an unfamiliar part of the city twists my stomach into knots until I round the corner. I stumble to a halt, sucking in a breath. My heart breaks at the sight—and then the rage kicks in.

Baekhyun's broad form in his partially unbuttoned black shirt braces himself against the wall, looming over a model. Her hand is in his hair and their lips interlocked in an intimate kiss. The sight has my blood boiling—nah, it's turning into fucking lava.

"Wow." I bark out a laugh, loud and hollow, positively seething as he jumps back from her as if burned. "If you were going to cheat, you could have at least had the decency to do it behind my back." The smirk that forms on my lips is the worst kind, the ugliest kind, the kind that has fear flickering in Baekhyun's wide brown eyes. "Or was this your intention all along?"

"R-Riley-" He stares like a deer in headlights, hurrying over to me, smearing her red lipstick over his lips in his haste to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Baby, please keep it down. I can explain-"

"Nah," I shake my head, looking at him in disdain. Just the sight of him right now has me heating up with anger. I'm seeing red as the model smirks at me from over his shoulder. That bitch. "This is explanation enough." I spin on my heel before I do something I won't regret in the slightest, just for his sake.

Baekhyun's dress shoes tapping frantically behind me as I storm back into the main hall.

"Riley, baby." His grip on my wrist throws me over the edge. "Please-"

"What were you doing, huh?" A snarl forms on my face as I whirl back around, meeting his pleading eyes. "Gonna show her your failed attempts at lasting for longer than a minute?"

Everyone in the room pauses. The photographer almost drops his prized camera.

Baekhyun's face grows progressively red, and if it wasn't for the rage burning in my own veins, I'd be concerned about the vibrant hue going up to his ears right now. Just like his mishap a few days ago that would normally be insignificant, it was his grave mistake. The key that I used to fuel the fire to the flame in the most torturous of ways... Have I hit a nerve, Hyunnie?

His grip tightens on my wrist. "We," He barely gets out in an angered growl of his own, "Are leav-"

"Get your filthy-" I hiss, snatching my wrist out of his grasp, "Paws off of me." I grab my sweater on my way out, exiting the building without looking back. The bite of the cold wintry air is a relief for my heated skin. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I drove." He says through clenched teeth, hot on my heels.

"And I'm walking." I bite back, walking past the car as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Riley!" Baekhyun bellows, putting the Audi in gear and slowly following me out of the parking lot. "Get in the fucking car!"

I cross my arms, scoffing out a laugh. It doesn't matter where the hell I am, I'm not getting back in that car with him. Bringing me all the way out here just to pull that shit. He can kiss my ass. I knew I shouldn't have gotten in that car with him. If I had taken my own four-seat beauty that I left back at home, I'd be halfway on the way to Jenny's by now.

Baekhyun continues to follow behind me, honking obnoxiously, attracting unwanted attention from bystanders that whisper amongst themselves. Some of them pull out their phones. What a spectacle we would make for the front cover of magazines, endlessly entertainment for all their peering eyes. Pausing for a moment to weigh my options, I step towards the Audi with a sigh, climbing in without a word to the fuming man next to me.

Baekhyun drives on, clutching onto the steering wheel with both hands. His grip is so tight his knuckles turn white. I direct my gaze out of the passenger window, avoiding him at all costs within the confines of the car. The long ride home and walk up to our apartment does nothing to ease my rage. Anger continues to thump angrily in my veins as the past two hours replay in my mind.

Baekhyun unlocks the door and holds it open for me. I walk into the apartment with a scoff, moving to tug off my boots only for my back to meet the wall, the front door closing with a startling slam.

"What was that?" Baekhyun glares at me, fire burning bright in his brown orbs. He can't exactly tower over me, but by his mannerism, he doesn't need any extra height to get his point across.

"What was that?" I mumble, peeling off my shoes, ducking under his arm to cross the other side of the room. The longer I stay in these warm clothes, the more I die from the uncomfortable heat.

"No, what the actual fuck, Riley?" He shakes his head, long strands of silver hair dangling in his fury-filled eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine." I retort, rolling my eyes and looking at him, "Who was that woman then?"

His nostrils flare. "Really?" He bites out, laughing in disbelief. "Is that really important right now?"

I cross the room in three strides, tilting my chin up to stand nose to nose with him. "It is to me if you haven't fucking noticed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He scoffs, stepping back. A cruel smile curls on his lips. "What should I do? I haven't paid Riley enough attention." All traces of humor leave his features, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. Baekhyun leans in again, his voice lowering into an angered growl. "Maybe if you weren't wetting yourself over me all morning, you'd figure it out."

I grind my teeth. "Who. Was. She?"

"For fuck-" Baekhyun reels back, his brown eyes rolling so hard into the back of his head a flicker of worry sparks in my chest before those dark orbs land on me again. "An ex-fling," he grits out. "Why does it matter?"

My hands fall limply to my sides. "Why didn't you tell me she would be there?" I ask. My voice is much quieter while I search his eyes for answers.

"What?" He scoffs, raising a brow. "How was I supposed to know she would be there?"

"Her name was on the roster-"

"I-" He shakes his head, pulling harshly on his hair. "What? Do you expect me to know the names of the women I've slept with?" A smirk quirks at his pink lips, his brown eyes so dark that his pupils have vanished in their mahogany depths. "Do you think I've kept some journal? " He purrs, grinning in delight when I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. "Are you really that insecure?"

I stiffen. A bolt of something sinister shoots down my spine. Did this fucker just—

"Me?" I point to myself with wide eyes, laughing incredulously. "Me?.... You know, that's real fucking rich coming from you." I sneer, roughly tugging off my annoying turtleneck. What was once a reliable piece of clothing ends up torn in my fit of rage. I fling it out of my sight. Baekhyun's words loop over and over in my head. Even though I don't show it—they cut me. Deep. On a touchy subject. In a part of me I thought had died 2 years ago. He damn well knows it hurts when it's mentioned in such a menacing manner, and he still did it. For what? His weak stamina in wake of his long hours at work is suddenly the equivalent to the root of my trust issues?

My fingers curl so tightly into a fist, I can feel my nails pierce the skin. "You're one to talk." It's easier this way; keeping my back turned to him so I can mask the tears brimming my eyes. Who does he think he is? Who is he, period? How is this the same adoring man that was pursuing me the summer we met?.... It takes all my effort not to bolt for the front door—not to let my nose run or tears to stream down my face. No. I won't cry over him again. I won't let him win. Not like this.

Firm in my resolve, I take a deep breath before turning to him again. "You're not so confident, Mr. Big Shot..." My words falter at the sight of him ripping his shirt open, black buttons clattering all over the floor. "What-"

Baekhyun has me backed against the wall before I can utter another word. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He demands, holding my chin between his thumb and index finger. He peers down into my eyes; the familiar look held in his dark orbs has me quivering on the inside—and it isn't from fear. "Hmm? Did you enjoy embarrassing me earlier? Did you have your fun?"

I quickly recover. "Not my fault you don't know how to keep it in your pants."

"You wish you were in my pants." He grits out, lips curling mockingly.

There are so many things I want to throw up in his handsome face right now. So many little secrets and observations I've made over the past year that would make him falter—make him kneel. But today...

Today.

I choose violence.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank on his delicate locks without remorse, pulling him into a brutal kiss of tongue and teeth. Baekhyun grunts in surprise, pressing me harder against the wall. The harsh clash of our mouths only seems to egg him on. The stinging bite he leaves on my bottom lip is nearly enough to break the skin. I don't know how long we stand there; my hands in his hair and his palms sliding down my back. There's no telling where he ends or I begin until the lack of air sinks in. His breathless puffs for air erupt goosebumps on my skin.

"Are we really doing this?" He pants, pulling away to brush his hair back. His eyes are more familiar to me now, softened by his calmer state, intense from the lust felt in his every touch.

I pause my exploration of his firm chest, arching a brow at him with a mocking grin. "Think you can last longer than a minute this time?"

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and steps away. For a moment, I worry if I pushed him too far until his lips crash back to mine. "Jump," He mutters gruffly, his grip near bruising on my ass.

"And if I don't..." The look in his eyes as he drags his dark brown eyes up to mine shuts me up entirely.

Baekhyun slowly leans closer, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. "I'll fuck you against the goddamn window." The serious expression on his face combined with the threat is damn near intimidating—and I hate how aroused it leaves me.

Baekhyun hoists me up and walks to our room with quick strides, relentlessly keeping his lips glued to mine. He pushes open the door before dropping me unceremoniously onto the mattress. His lips are back on mine before I can chastise him for the mini heart attack, his impatient hands tug at the rest of my clothes. I let him pull off my pants and hurriedly move to unclip my bra in the meantime before his rough actions can rip the expensive fabric.

Baekhyun freezes above me, brown eyes transfixed on my matching red lacy set. It may be winter, but that doesn't mean I can't dress up nicely underneath endless layers of flannel and wool. Although, when I think about what happened not too long ago... Warmth fills my cheeks and I know I'm blushing way too hard to have done this countless times with him.

"Ah." Baekhyun tsks, stopping me from covering my chest. "Take it off." He breathes, soft lips brushing over my neck. "Let me see these tits bounce for me."

My eyes widen at his crude words, a gasp escapes my parted lips when he sucks harshly on a sensitive spot on my neck, pulling down the straps of my bra at a snail's pace. The poor clothing is tossed over his shoulder without a care in the world.

I'm no stranger to Baekhyun's habit of leaving pink and red hues on my skin, but today is different—today it feels like he has something to prove by trapping my skin between his teeth, marking me as his. He doesn't stop at my neck; his restless mouth ventures lower, painting my collarbones and chest with the shape of his lips.

I grit my teeth as he reaches my breasts, determined not to let him win me over so easily. It doesn't matter how much I want to melt under his warm hands mapping out the contours of my waist or tremble in anticipation at his breath fanning over my sensitive nipples. No matter what, I will not crumble... until he does first, at least.

Yeah—easier said than done with the way he's tugging my nipple with his teeth, roughly rolling the other between his fingers. It's all fun and games until his grip tightens on my hip, his pelvis grinding mercilessly against me. A move that has my back arching clear off of the mattress. He just presses me back down to the bed, continuing to alternate between each breast, pulling away minutes later with a wet pop of his lips. He's relentless in using every weak spot of mine. As if he knows what I'm trying to do.

"Not today, baby," He murmurs to my squirming form, chuckling in my ear. I can't help but bite my lip, breath caught in my throat when his hand slides down my body. His large palm covers my clothed core entirely. If it were any other day, I'd be flustered over how true his words from earlier were; the evidence of my previous admiring and current state of euphoria clear as day to his greedy hand, tugging at my last piece of clothing.

My heart races in the realization that I'm lying under him, almost completely bare, as he remains fully clothed besides the ripped shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Ah," Baekhyun smacks my hands away, flashing a grin full of devious intentions. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

He's yanking my underwear down before I can get a word in, tossing them carelessly off the bed and spreading my thighs as far as they'll go.

"Always so ready for me," He muses, spreading my folds apart with his thumbs. I stop breathing entirely when he leans down, spitting onto my pussy. "Your hungry cunt has been waiting all morning for me, hmm?"

My lack of response doesn't bother him in the slightest as he meets my eye, sliding two of his long fingers into my core so suddenly I shout, grabbing his wrist. Baekhyun just pries my fingers off of him before interlocking them with his freehand, bracing our joined hands above my head. My eyes roll back at the burn of the unexpected intrusion. It's a dull, persistent ache while he shoves his fingers deeper into my cunt. He curls them up in a way that has me shaking at the seams, tugging at his silver locks as he brings me dangerously close to the edge. Right when I'm nearing my high, he pulls his fingers out, nonchalantly sucking on them while fiddling with his belt.

I gulp, relaxing back against the sheets. I can't even be mad at this point. Our argument ended the moment I started that fiery-filled kiss, but—

Baekhyun's belt clatters to the floor and his brown eyes have never looked so fierce—so carnal, I wonder if he plans to eat me alive. What I don't expect is for him to crawl further up the bed like an actual predator hunting his prey to hover over me again; his gaze not straying from mine for a second. The warmth of his body encloses me; it's second nature to relax under him when we're like this—when we're touching the tip of the iceberg before diving headfirst into the chilly depths of our lust. Sex with Baekhyun isn't like playing with fire; it's handling dry ice with bare hands.

And being in love with him is one of the most intense and excruciating experiences of my life.

We spend so much time eye-fucking each other that I'm not prepared for the bruising kiss he pulls me into, sliding his cock into my core without a warning.

"Ah—B-Baek!"

"Hmm?" He humors, his low voice filled with lust. "Now she speaks."

"Baekhyun." I gasp when he spreads my thighs wider; the pull from the unfamiliar stretch adds to his incessant pounding—his hips seeming to snap a mile a minute. Oh, please—please don't let both of us have muscle strain tomorrow morning. I swear I've never seen him move this fast for anything. Ever. Baekhyun, what the fuck? Have you started back up on your late-night visits to the gym or something? He's reaching depths he hasn't quite reached before, hitting a spot inside my core that makes me want to cringe away and slam myself onto his cock at the same time.

I yelp out when he tilts my hips at a different angle, not meaning to scratch his back so hard in my hurry to cling onto him. Baekhyun just groans, slamming rougher into me in retaliation, his teeth firmly bite down onto my shoulder.

"Baekhyun! what the—ah—fuck!?" I nearly shriek, appalled and aroused.

Baekhyun smirks, sliding a hand down to press his thumb on my clit. "What's the matter, baby?"

"B-" I can't even say his name without stammering, shaking under him when he slows down to roll his entire body against mine. The only thing I'm capable of at this point is gripping his shoulders, throwing my head back with a loud moan. I always thought of myself as not being a fan of sweat or having any strange, warm liquids touching me, but Baekhyun... Fucking Baekhyun. His sweaty chest brushing over my nipples is making me lose my damn mind—if I was feeling any more horny and adventurous, I'd lick the salty sweat off of his neck.

"Come on." Baekhyun pants with a satisfied grin. Sweat continues to drip from his honey-toned skin, sticking silver locks to his forehead. "Tell me."

The fucker, he knows exactly what's up. It's written all over his face. A part of me doesn't want to beg—my rational side. The one chastising me for falling into bed with him again in the first place. But I don't know how much longer I can take his teasing antics, so despite my stubbornness—despite the heart aching memories creeping up on me in such an intimate moment; I press my body to his.

"Fuck me like you mean it." I pant, yanking harshly on his hair, smirking at his pained hiss until his hips undulate in a new direction. The constant stimulation on my most sensitive spots has my high sneaking up on me so quickly, I don't have time to warn him.

"Bae—!"

Baekhyun's lips crash to mine, swallowing my cry of his name as I fall over that blissful edge. His cock is the only thing on my mind amongst the ringing in my ears—in the minute-long paradise where nothing else matters but our frantic hearts racing as one.

Baekhyun lets out a telling grunt before a burst of warmth fills me up. The remains of his release drip down my thighs with his erratic, shaky thrusts. He doesn't even pull out when he's done. He just leans tiredly over me, coaxing my lips into a lazy kiss. "You're the only one for me." He whispers as if sharing the biggest secret, all rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed.

Beautiful; there's no other way to describe him—in general, in this moment. Nothing compares to his mocha brown eyes that shine brighter than a million stars when his steady gaze sets on me. Nothing compares to the safety of his warm embrace that surrounds me. Nothing could come close to the way he drives me crazy in every single way. Love. Lust. Doesn't matter. If it's with him—for him, it's...

...

Is it worth it?

The emptiness I feel when he gently pulls himself from me triggers every painful memory imaginable: my birthday, the party, our summer fight, his ex, that phone call, his photoshoot...

Baekhyun collapses beside me on the bed, completely oblivious to the war going on in my head. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his beating heart.

I wait for him to fall asleep, brushing damp silver locks of hair out of his eyes as his breathing slows. He looks so peaceful like that, so innocent while his face relaxes with sleep. So... So welcoming, like home.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision of his twitching brows and pouted lips. I hope he's happy; I hope he got what he wanted.

Carefully sliding out from under his loving hold, I quietly get dressed, collect my duffle bag, and slip out of the room, holding onto the doorknob for dear life. His quiet mumbles drift through the crack of the door, tossing and turning as if already aware of my absence. I have to cover my mouth to contain my sobs.

I love him—I really do, but I...

I can't do this.

I can't take this anymore. If he won't open up to me; if he thinks I'm... I'm unworthy of knowing his past—hell, fuck that. Apparently caring too much leads to being left behind, if that encounter this morning is anything to go by.

My laughter just ends in more sobs, the salty taste of tears on my tongue more bitter with the realization that once again, I've lost.

But at what cost?

The ache in my chest and between my legs is an answer within itself—the last push I need to retrieve my car keys from the counter.

If he wants to be that way, Baekhyun... Baekhyun can do whatever the fuck he wants. What's the difference between me and all the others? What use am I? Is it because I learned how to cook? Clean? I wonder how many of those late nights at work are actually spent bent over his sketchpad. Am I his personal little stay-at-home trophy? Does it feel good to show me around important events? After today, I might as well hang up the thought of ever stepping into his world again. No one wants a possessive girlfriend in their corner of the wrestler ring. No one needs a jealous, nosy, demanding burden weighing them down. And I have my high standards as well.

I can—and will not—be one of those girls.

Not even for him.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

A/N: I can feel the pitchforks on the rise, l-listen (<.<) just trust me on this, not all is lost.... Or is it? 😇 I’ll try to finish the next part as soon as I can. *cracks fingers* let’s see what this troubled couple gets up to next.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun romance #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #Six Phases

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Hi 👋 hope your staying safe! Can I request something with Santi, please? Could you write something where Santi and reader used to be friends as kids, Santi having looked out for reader when she was picked on or if she fell over at school, but then after he graduated they lost contact until years later reader reaches out to him randomly and they reunite, maybe fall in love??

Sorry if it's strange, I'm going through something similar but I'm trying to get the guts to reach out to the guy, it's nerve wracking!! 😳😨 Maybe reading something will give me a boost 😂

Tinder [Santiago Garcia x F!Reader]

Word count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ I guess? I don’t know. Nothing explicit, it’s just Tinder is an 18+ app.

Warnings: food mention, tinder mention, allusions to sex

Masterlist

Tinder. It was so tedious. An app that had gained it’s reputation for being nothing more than a “hookup app” or even a “sex app”. It was associated with superficiality and laced with sexual innuendos. It was the app that had been accused of igniting modern day hookup culture. It was the app that Santiago Garcia frequented every damn day. The man even paid a premium! It was a quick and easy way for him to meet girls for drinks and a quick fuck. It’s all a man like Santiago had time for. Falling in love wasn’t an option for him. It was something he’d never considered until Games Night last week.

Once upon a time, Will’s small living room was just filled with him, Santiago, Frankie, Benny and Tom, but the head count had grown extensively over the past few years. Tom had reconciled with Molly, Yovanna and Benny had something going on, and now even Frankie was engaged to the blonde haired, blue eyed girl who sat quietly in the corner sipping tea and doodling in her sketchbook.

Santiago didn’t mind the girls. In fact, he actually enjoyed their company, but their presence only had him yearn for something more. He’d never been one to think about settling down or starting a family of his own, but he felt an indirect pressure. Maybe trying out one long term relationship wouldn’t be so bad after all? But he was so used to his flings. How was he ever going to grow out of his commitment issues and find someone he could really connect with.

Truthfully, he’d already found her, about fifteen years ago.

You and Santiago Garcia were the best of friends. You used to do everything together; walking home from school hand in hand, singing and dancing when you thought no one was around, playing LEGO and building up jigsaw’s. He was your soulmate, in every sense of the word. But you can’t stay young forever and eventually Santiago left your small neighbourly town to join the military. And you never saw him again.

Which is why it was a surprise when you, half asleep at 2 am, and drooling on your pillow, lazily swiped right on his profile. You weren’t even paying attention. Just another tanned skin man with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. It was a haze, and your desperation to move on from your ex boyfriend had you yearning to meet someone new. You groaned tiredly, deciding you were never going to find someone as good as your ex, switched your phone off and shoved it under your pillow before finally getting some sleep.

At around 3 am, Santiago still wasn’t asleep, thanks to his roommate Frankie and his fiancée keeping probably the whole apartment complex awake. He pulled out his phone from his nightstand and checked Tinder. That’s when he saw you. Before even checking your name, he could tell it was you by that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and the way your perfect lips curled into a smile. It might have been fifteen years since he’d last seen you, but just looking at your photo made it feel like yesterday. He couldn’t contain his wide grin as he flicked through your photos. You looked just as beautiful as ever, and Santiago recalled the crush he had on you when you were both kids. He wondered how come you hadn't settled down already. He knew you always dreamed of getting married and having kids, with a big house and a big dog. So why were you on Tinder?

In a simple spur of the moment, Santiago swiped right.

‘It’s a match!’ the words blew up on Santiago’s screen and illuminated the dark bedroom. Streamers and confetti exploded around your photo; the typical thing that always happened when he matched with women on Tinder, only now it actually felt like celebrating. This meant that you must’ve swiped right on him too.

You spent the morning the same way you always did, laying in bed and checking the notifications on your different social media. Just before you were about to get up, you remembered how you’d impulsively installed Tinder the night before and, on a whim, you opened the app to see if you had matched with anyone.

You scrolled through the eight matches you’d gained through the night, frowning and twisting your face in disgust at some of the profiles. You really hadn’t been paying attention to who you were swiping.

Your eyes went comically wide when you read the name at the end of the list.

‘You have matched with: Santiago Garcia! Say hi!’

It was like time had frozen and you read the words over and over again. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. You wondered how many Santiago Garcia’s lived in New York City - or more specifically, only three miles away?!

You hammered your thumb into your screen to view his profile and you were blown away as you went through his photos. That was definitely him. That was definitely your childhood best friend. Although his hair was once dark and curly, it was now short and slightly salt and peppered. He had a slight graze of facial hair in all of his photos, and in most of them, he was seen to be hanging out with a bunch of other guys. Wait- was that Francisco Morales too? They were still friends?

You were so nervous to say something. Truthfully, if you had come across his profile at any other moment where you weren’t half asleep, and hopelessly desperate for love, your fear would’ve stopped you from swiping right. You’d been in love with Santiago since pre-school. It had been over a decade but you still thought about him every single day and cherished those long lost moments you spent together.

But the reality was, that he’d swiped right on you too. He was interested in you as well! Which had to count for something. You took a deep breath and typed out the words “Hello :)” before quickly turning your phone off and throwing it across your bedroom.

You sat bolt upright in your bed for a few moments, contemplating what you had done. You told yourself it would be okay and asked yourself what was the worst that could happen. You sighed and forced yourself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

Turning off your phone was a good idea because you’d actually forgotten about messaging Santiago until about lunch time. You flicked through the television channels, holding a lazily put together sandwich in your free hand, and landed on a dating game show. You considered applying, thinking about how fun it might be, when you remembered you might already have a shot with someone else. Santiago. You dropped your sandwich on the coffee table in a frenzy, ran to your bedroom and turned on your phone. The painful minute it took to completely boot up sent butterflies rampant in the pit of your stomach.

Santiago: Hey! How you doing? I gotta say I was really surprised to see that we matched last night. It’s been a long time!

Oh my god. He’d replied. He’d replied three hours ago and you hadn’t said anything back. Shit. You wondered if you had already blown your chances, but little did you know, Santiago had been holding out for a message from you for a long time.

You: Right...almost fifteen years, I think! I’m okay. How are you?

You pressed send and took a deep breath. It was okay. Just casual small talk. It would be okay. You slid your phone into your pocket and went back to eat your sandwich. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the game show, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Santiago.

“Santi! You got a new message!” Frankie called from the other room, taking a huge, messy bite out of a candy bar and picking up his phone.

“Frankie! I’m literally on the toilet… can it wait?” Santiago cried, face palming and chuckling incredulously. Living with his best friend for five long years meant that Santiago had become accustomed to interactions like this.

“No, I don’t think so,” Frankie mumbled, knotting his eyebrows together as he read the notification that had popped up on the screen. “Hey, are you talking to Y/N L/N from high school?”

“Wh- what?” Santiago asked, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Oh my God you are!” Frankie gasped excitedly, typing in his friend’s passcode for his phone and getting inside. “On Tinder!”

Santiago finished up washing his hands and walked out the bathroom, an unamused scowl drawn upon his lips. Frankie swallowed at his best friend’s expression.

“This has to stop,” Santiago warned, taking his phone from Frankie’s hand. “I love you buddy, I really do. But you’re getting married next Summer. You can’t keep trying to talk to me while I’m on the toilet!”

Frankie laughed and rolled his eyes before getting back to his video game.

Santiago was shocked to be reminded that you had remembered exactly how long it had been since you last saw each other. He began to compose his next message. You practically screamed when you felt your phone vibrate at the notification.

Santiago: I’m well, thanks for asking. Would you be interested in meeting up sometime for a few drinks? I’d love to catch up.

Drinks. A catch up. It sounded perfect. You already found your mind racing as you wondered what to wear.

You: That sounds great!

Santiago’s reply came fleetingly.

Santiago: Are you free tonight? X

Tonight was so soon… but you were free, and it felt like you’d been waiting forever to reunite with your childhood crush. And he felt the same way. It was so exciting for both of you.

You: Tonight sounds great. See you then :) x

You and Santiago spent the rest of the day in anticipation to see one another. You didn’t know then, but the accidental Tinder encounter turned out to be the long lasting and perfect relationship both you and Santiago craved. The soulmates were reunited at last.

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia

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team-free-will-you-idjits-67 · 3 years

Text

In the Light of Death

Description: Death can bring out the best in people, especially Dean Winchester.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Relationship: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4736

Warnings: THIS COULD BE TRIGGERING. Reader gets cut up during the story. Slight Gore. SMUT.

Author’s Note: This has been a request sitting in my drafts for sooooo god damn long from @shademered. They requested “I would like it to be a Dean imagine! Where the reader is a hunter and been hunting with the Winchesters for about a year and gets kidnapped by vampires during a hunt by herself. And the brothers come and save her before she almost dies! At the end, Dean and her finally admit feelings and end with fluffy smut.” I hope this does justice for what you imagined this story would be like!

Masterlist / Dean Winchester Masterlist / Taglist

Throbbing behind your closed lids made you groan outwardly. Flashes of the last twenty four hours played in your mind as you opened your eyes slowly. Light flooded your iris’, causing you to squint until you got used to the bombardment of the flourescent's blaze.

“Well, well, well.” Heels clicked against the wooden boards, “Look who’s awake.” You turned quickly, ignoring the protests from your sore muscles, towards the high, melodic voice. Seeing the tall, ivory-skinned and black-haired beauty in front of you made you angry as you thought about all the lives she and her nest were responsible for taking.

“Yeah,” you pulled at your binds, wanting to rub at the blow to the back of your head, “It was a nice nap.” You smugly grinned towards the nest leader, “I really needed that.”

She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her faux leather-clad limbs, “You hunters fascinate me.” She walked around your chair, disappearing behind you. You knew she had stopped when her heel clicks ceased behind you and small chuckles escaped her lips, “When you are about to die, you use sarcasm to ignore your fate.”

“Oh really?” You tried turning towards her but failed as the ropes constricted with your movements, “So, I’m not the first hunter to try and kill you?”

Heels clicked against the decaying oak boards of the old barn, the leader coming back into your view with a smirk splayed across her red painted lips, “Oh no honey.” She bit her bottom lip as she stopped in front of you again, “And you won’t be the last.” She sighed and looked up towards the ceiling, her arms dropping to her sides as she continued, “You all come in here, guns blazing, alone, and misjudge the size of my nest.”

You raised your brows towards her, surprised she didn’t know that you weren’t alone and in fact with two of the most notorious hunters in the United States, and chuckled, “Oh, I’ll get out of here, sweetheart. Trust me.”

She furrowed her brows, a curled strand of black hair falling into her face as she pouted towards you mockingly, “Oh, is the big, strong hunter going to break out of those binds and kill all of us?” She waved her hands dramatically, “Oh, I’m so scared.”

You nodded, “Something like that.”

She shook her head, “I don’t think so, honey.” She walked towards you and crouched before running her coal black painted nails up your legs and digging them into the meat of your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll make this long and painful for you,” she winked.

You steeled yourself for the torture to come as you waited for the boys to come to your rescue. The fight you had with Sam and Dean earlier in the day replayed in your mind.

“Damnit, Y/N! Why are you being so difficult about this?” Dean sighed, “We’ve been by that barn multiple times, there’s no way that nest is holed up there.”

Sam nodded, agreeing with his brother, “I staked out the barn, there was no sign of the nest.” He pulled his laptop across the bright green motel table top, “There’s an abandoned factory about 3 miles outside of town, I think they’re there.” He cleared his throat, “If the nest is as big as we think, that’s where they’re going to be at.”

You shook your head and scoffed from the bed you were sitting on, “For a nest of this size to still be around and not have any hunters stop them, they’re smarter than we think. They wouldn’t be somewhere that just ANY other hunter would think they were at. They would cover their tracks and lay low until they could move again.”

Dean shook his head, “Sammy and I have been doing this for a long time, quite a while longer than you have, Y/N. They’re not at that barn.” He walked towards the grime covered refrigerator and yanked at the door before pulling out a beer, “I know you haven’t been with us long, but just trust us.”

You scoffed towards the eldest Winchester, “Normally I would,” you stood up, the mattress springs squeaking in protest from the movement, and walked towards the motel room bathroom door, “But, my gut is telling me something different.” You turned back towards the boys before you slipped into the dimly lit room, “And that is something, Dean Winchester, you taught me to follow in this last year.”

“UGH,” you grunted as the leader sliced at your belly once more. The front of your gray t-shirt was now shredded and dark red, parts of the destroyed cloth clung to your skin as earlier cuts began to dry.

“Oh, honey.” The leader licked the blade that was coated with your blood, “I’ve got so much more planned for you.” She ran the blade across your cheek, applying soft pressure to cut the plump meat, “I hope you can handle it.”

You spit at the abhorrent creature in front of you, “Bring it, bitch.”

She wiped at her face with a cackle, “That was a bad decision.”

You stared at the popcorn ceiling as you listened to the rhythmic breathing of the boys. Turning onto your side, you looked around the room. The moonlight lit the room faintly, letting you make out the sleeping features of Dean on the bed beside you. One leg hung over the side of the mattress, his face half smashed into the pillow that he bear hugged, his hair disheveled and stuck up at random angles. You smiled and stifled a giggle as you looked at him.

Even though you were pissed at him, you couldn’t bury your feelings for the goofy, overprotective, older Winchester.

Sighing, you looked towards Sam, sleeping on the couch, that was far too short for him, with his laptop sitting on his chest. The notebook computer fell and rose with each slow breath he took.

Your gut feeling nagged at you all night, keeping you up from the peaceful slumber you could be having with the boys. In that moment, you decided you were going to give in and go to that barn. You threw the stale sheets back from your body, grabbed your jeans from the floor and slid them on quickly but quietly.

Your eyes darted between the boys as you slipped your boots on and grabbed your duffle, making sure you weren’t waking the boys as you slipped out of the motel room.

You got into your 1972 orange, Dodge Challenger and started the loud engine. You silently prayed that the booming motor hadn’t woken the boys as you put the car into drive and headed out to the barn.

You cursed at yourself for your dumb decisions as you could start to feel your blood loss begin to affect you, clouding your mind slightly. You only wanted to check out the barn, you didn’t expect for the nest to attack you when you parked your car a mile down the road from the crumbling building.

The leader snapped her blood covered fingers in front of your face, “There’s no time to pass out on me, hunter.”

You chuckled, “I’ve still got awhile, twilight.”

“Boy, you hunters are something.” Her words dripped with annoyance as she continued, “You pretend you’re much stronger than you are.” She slashed at your other cheek with a hiss, “It’s annoying.”

You looked down at your lap, watching blood drip onto your blue jeans as you heard yelling pick up from deeper within the barn. Her head shot towards the door closing you off from the rest of the nest, but her attention soon snapped back to you as you started laughing softly. “Don’t you wanna check on that?” You teased.

She shook her head, “Probably just a dumb fight, they’ll settle it or kill each other.” You raised a brow towards her as she shrugged, “I can always make more vampires, but I can’t cut you up like this ever again.”

You nodded with pursed lips, “That makes sense.” You shifted in your seat, the binds seemingly getting tighter as the noises deep within the barn started to get louder, “But, that doesn’t sound like a little fight.”

She threw her blade down to the hay littered floor and stomped her foot in annoyance, “Those goddamn idiots.” She stormed towards the door as three other vampires within the nest broke through the oak entryway.

“Hunters!” They yelled in unison.

You looked up as Sam and Dean marched into the room with blood soaked machetes. Your stomach did somersaults when you saw Dean walk through those doors, relief flooding your clouded mind. You knew you were finally safe.

Dean chuckled but his demeanour quickly changed as he saw you, alive but hurt, “Oh yeah, hunters.” He nodded, “And you’re going to pay for hurting,” he raised the blade towards you, “her.”

You chuckled as the leader turned around to glare daggers at you, “I told you I was going to get out of here.”

She started to run towards you, Dean following quickly behind, as Sam distracted the other three from the nest. “You haven’t gotten out of here yet, bitch.” She lunged towards you, fangs bared and aimed towards your throat. You closed your eyes, readying yourself for the impact that never came. You opened your eyes as you heard a loud thud against the floor, Dean was on top of the leader, struggling to push the machete down onto her neck. She screamed, “Get him off me!” Pulling the attention of her children of the night.

Sam was able to slice one vamps head off as the other two darted to save their leader. He followed closely behind to protect his brother, pulling one vampire off of Dean, tugging so hard it slid across the hay littered floor. He lunged towards the vamp as it somersaulted backwards to upright itself, it looked up with fangs exposed as Sam sliced through its neck.

The one on Dean’s back successfully pulled him off the leader and began choking him. Dean swung his machete back with his right hand as his left pulled at the arm around his neck. “Dean!” Sam yelled out as he started to run towards his brother, ignoring the leader getting up from the floor and making her way towards you.

“Y/N!” Dean rasped out, “Save Y/N!”

You tugged at your binds, praying they’d loosen as the leaders face contorted with a hiss and she lunged once again. Sam leapt, grabbing her legs just in time, her fangs narrowly missing your throat as she was ripped away from you.

The vampire fighting Dean shifted his focus as Sam struggled with the leader. He threw Dean against the outer barn wall, wood slabs cracked against the weight of Dean hitting the deteriorating oak. Dean groaned as he hit the floor, his attention shifting towards you as you screamed, “Sam! Behind you!” Dean’s eyes darted towards his brother just as Sam sliced towards the vampire coming up behind him, his free arm still holding the leader to the ground securely as he slashed the vampire's torso. Dean jumped up and tackled the injured vampire away from his brother, hacking its head off as Sam finally got enough leverage to slash at the leaders.

You watched heads roll across the floor in opposite directions as Dean rushed to your side. You both looked at each other like deer in headlights as he cut at the ropes binding your limbs, “How are you doing, Y/N? Are you okay?”

You nodded, “For the most part.” You winced when the last rope was cut and you could finally move, your muscles screaming from the abuse they had taken in the last couple hours as you tried standing from the chair.

Dean caught you as you stumbled forward, “Woah there tiger.” He wrapped your left arm around his waist as he chuckled, engulfing yours with his large, muscular arm and supporting most of your weight, “Take it easy. You’re cut up pretty bad.”

You snickered and then hissed at the cuts that stung along your torso from the movement, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Dean shook his head with a smile, “Let’s get you back to Baby so I can look at some of those wounds for you.”

You shook your head, “I’ll be fine until we get back to the motel, help Sammy with burning the vamps.”

You walked through the barn quickly, taking note of all the bodies that littered the floor. The glistening of Baby’s wax coating in the moonlight became a very welcoming sight to you as Dean stammered, “Ar-are you sure? You might have some cuts that need, uh, instant attention.”

You waved him off as the back seat door creaked open, “I’ll be okay.” You groaned as you slid into the back seat, “Things will go faster if you go help Sam out, and then you can patch me up back at the motel.”

Dean nodded with pursed lips, “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

You watched Dean jog back into the barn before leaning your head back onto the top of the bench seat. You closed your eyes for what seemed like seconds, but really had been 15 minutes, enough time for the boys to burn all the bodies and have the barn begin to engulf in flames. Your eyes shot open as Dean shook you softly, “Y/N!”

“Ugh, what Dean!” You looked towards him as your eyes adjusted in the darkness, worry set deep within his features but relief flooding through his olive iris’ as he sighed, “I thought you had passed out.” He rubbed his mouth as he sat forward in the back seat, “You scared me.”

“I’m fine, Dean. Just,” you yawned, “tired.” You glanced out the window of the impala, noticing the scenery fly past the windows. You turned your head quickly, your gaze falling on Sam driving Baby, his eyes darting between the mirror and the road. “Wait, you let Sam drive?” You giggled, “You were that worried?”

Dean bit his lip as he stared at you, “You know what?” He smiled as he shook his head towards you, “Shut up.”

Sam piped up from the front seat, “He was really worried.” A smile plastered across his face as he watched his brother from the rearview mirror.

“Eyes on the road, Sammy. I don’t need you killing all of us,” Dean grunted.

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

Dean followed you into the motel room as you heard Sam pull away in the impala. Sam ran to go get the three of you food while Dean cleaned, stitched and bandaged your wounds. You tugged your flannel off slowly as Dean shut the thin, wooden door. He walked over to the table, grabbing medical supplies from the black duffle that took up most of the bright green tabletop. You tugged at your blood soaked, shredded t-shirt as you sat onto the bed you left unmade earlier that night, “Dean.” You sighed, “I need help with my shirt.”

He nodded, “Yeah, just a sec.” He dug through the bag and grabbed scissors before bringing all the supplies to the bed and dumping them next to you. He took a deep breath and smiled at you nervously, “Are you ready?”

“Go ahead, Dean. I don’t bite,” you snickered.

He rolled his eyes with a smile while he gripped the bottom seam of your t-shirt and centered the scissors on it. As he cut up the middle of your shirt, his tongue peaked out between his teeth and rested against his bottom lip as he concentrated, causing you to giggle softly. “What?” He questioned.

You shook your head gingerly, “Nothing. You’re just a dork.”

“Oh really?” He slid your t-shirt over your shoulders and down your arms carefully, “Well, this dork is trying to patch you up right now.”

“I know, Dean.” You looked up towards the gentle giant that currently towered over your sitting frame, “I appreciate it Dean.”

He scoffed, “It’s nothing, you’ve patched me up countless times.”

You nodded, “Yeah, well, I got hurt because of my own dumb decisions.” Yours and Dean’s eyes locked as you continued, “You could have left me in that chair to bleed a little longer as punishment.”

“Yeah,” he sighed as he gathered alcohol and gauze, pouring the clear liquid onto the sterile cloth, “it was a pretty dumb decision to go alone.” He paused with an apologetic glance, “This is going to sting.” You nodded as he continued, hissing as the alcohol burned against your wounds, “But, it’s something I would have done if I had felt the same way as you, so I can’t blame you for it.” He softly wiped at your cuts, cleaning the dried blood, “Like you said, I taught you to follow your gut this last year you’ve been with us.”

You looked down at your torso, shocked at all the cuts that littered your stomach and chest, “When did you guys find out I was gone? How did you figure out that’s where I went?”

Dean chuckled softly, “Well, I got up to pee like an hour before we showed up to the barn.” He sighed as he worked to clean a gash across your chest, “I noticed you were gone before I got back into bed. I checked outside to make sure you didn’t just go and decide to get a midnight snack but when I came back inside, I noticed your weapons duffle was gone.” He shrugged, “So, I assumed that’s where you went after our fight earlier.”

You nodded, “Well, I guess I’m glad I’m a little predictable then.”

Dean chuckled, “Like I said, it’s something I would do.” his brow furrowed as he focused on a cut on your side, the end disappearing underneath the bra you were wearing. He glanced up at you and then back towards the cut. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “Is it okay if I get under there to get at that one?”

You nodded, “Let me take it off for you.” You leaned forward slightly and bit your lip, trying not to cry out in pain from your injuries as you attempted to unclasp your bra.

“Y/N,” Dean sighed, “I can get it off, don’t hurt yourself.” He pushed you back up gently and wrapped his arms around your back as he unhooked the clasps with ease.

You could see the color wash away from his face as he began to panic with the thought of seeing your breasts. You giggled inwardly at his reaction but soon realization hit you as your bra fell into your lap. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks as your nipples hardened to the new, cool air swirling around them and Dean drank in your naked chest.

You both sat in awkward silence as Dean cleaned and bandaged your wounds. Once he was done, he almost ran towards his duffle that sat on the floor across the room and grabbed one of his t-shirts. “Let’s get this on you and then I’ll clean the cuts on your face,” he said with what seemed like a sad smile.

You raised your arms as far as you could as Dean slipped his t-shirt over you. Even though the shirt was clean, you could still smell his musk embedded within the cotton. Bourbon and cinnamon enveloped your senses, distracting you from the sting of the alcohol on your cheeks.

“Dean?”

He looked up from the gash that ran along your right cheek, “Yes?” You bit your lip as you thought about what you were going to say, making Dean smirk with the action, “What’s up, Y/N?”

You sighed, choosing your words carefully you stuttered out, “Why were you so worried that you had Sam drive us back here?” You looked down at your lap as Dean’s hand dropped from your cheek, “I’ve seen Sam pretty messed up before but you never had me drive us somewhere as you checked on him in the back seat.” You looked back up towards Dean, his gaze directed towards the gauze stained with your blood.

Sighing, he threw the gauze pad into the pile of dirtied dressings on the discolored carpet and looked up at you from his knelt position on the floor, “I-I care about you, Y/N.” He looked into your eyes, the olive orbs searching deep within your Y/E/C ones, “I have always gotten upset when someone who hunted with us would get hurt, but for some reason tha-that’s like,” he paused and licked his lips, “amplified with you.” He placed a warm hand on your left cheek below the second gash on your face, “I thought the worst the whole way there.” He chuckled as you leaned your head into his hand and placed yours over his, “I don’t think I’ve ever killed vamps faster in my life. I wanted, well needed, to know you were alive.”

You rubbed your thumb along his slowly with a small smile, “I can’t even begin to describe how happy I was to see you walk through those barn doors.”

You both stared at each other in that moment with grins fading as feelings began to heighten. You weren’t really sure who made the move first but soon enough, your lips were against Dean’s. His hands cupped both sides of your face as your hand that had previously covered his now wrapped around his neck, gripping softly at the nape.

Dean broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours with a soft sigh, “Woah.” You giggled together, “I’ve wanted to do that for awhile.”

You pulled back slightly, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to hide the smile plastered on your face, “I had to almost die for you to finally wanna do that?”

“No,” he said as he shook his head with a chuckle, “I just didn’t think you reciprocated my feelings.” He rubbed his thumb along your cheek softly, “To be fair, this is also the only time we’ve really been alone before.”

“You’re right.” You glanced towards the motel room door, “Then why not make the most of it?”

Dean’s face crinkled with confusion. “What do you me-,” he tried questioning before you cut him off with a kiss.

Your lips became hungrier, kissing with more passion this time as your tongue slid against Dean’s bottom lip. Heat began building in your core as your tongues melded together. You grabbed at each other, Dean acting more careful than you due to your injuries as he slid you up the bed without breaking the kiss.

He laid beside you and ran his hands down your body, pulling your leg up over his hip when his hand met your thigh. You both kissed each other like it would be your last time, but you both knew it would only be the first of many.

Dean rolled over you slowly, avoiding placing pressure on your stomach as he pulled at his t-shirt you wore. You sat up slightly, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head because of your limited mobility. He pecked your lips softly before he pulled back and took in your naked chest once more, but in a whole new light. His eyes sparkled as he bent forward, placing soft kisses along exposed skin, avoiding the gauzed areas.

He kissed down your body, stopping when he reached the waistband of your jeans. He looked up at you, asking for silent permission as his fingers hooked themselves into the band. You nodded and watched him as he pulled the denim down your legs slowly, revealing the baby blue panties you wore underneath.

Dean’s hands ran along bruises in every stage of healing and old hunting scars gently. His eyes roamed your body, drinking in every inch of you as he smiled. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

You blushed from his adulation. “Thank you,” you said in a whisper.

He licked his lips as he eyed your underwear, pulling the thin material down your legs and fully exposing you to him.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, shyness taking over as Dean looked you over once more before tugging at his clothes. In what seemed like seconds, his layers flew off his body and to the floor. You stared as he exposed his tanned, toned chest and then pulled at his own dirtied jeans. He stood before you in his boxers, tented from his erection, before pulling them down slowly. His cock bounced in the air as it was released from it’s confines, the length and thickness not going unnoticed by you.

He crawled up the bed slowly before settling at your side once more, placing a longing kiss on your lips. Dean reached towards your cunt, slowly running his fingers through your slick with a pleasant groan, “You’re so wet for me.” He dipped his fingers into you, scissoring you open as his thumb rubbed small circles over your clit. You moaned softly as he began to work you towards your climax, “I’m going to get you ready for me, sweetheart.” He chuckled, “I don’t wanna hurt you more than you already are.”

You wanted to laugh but his fingers worked you over expertly, bringing you to your peak within minutes. “Fuck, Dean,” you moaned out as your orgasm washed over you.

He placed a small kiss to your cheek before getting up and settling himself between your legs. He lined the tip up to your entrance, sliding it through your arousal, “You ready?”

You nodded haphazardly, side effects still flowing through you from your climax, “Yes. Please, Dean.”

He obliged, plunging his cock into you gradually until he was fully sheathed inside you. He rocked his hips slowlly with a grunt, “Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N.”

You gripped his biceps as he continued his relaxed and smooth thrusts, pulling yourself up slightly to catch his lips with yours. Dean worked the both of you towards your climaxes with a steady rhythm. Your moans became louder as the heat within your belly spread through your body rapidly, your orgasm making your whole body tingle and your cunt clench around Dean’s cock. His hips began to falter as he got closer, more grunts and groans falling from his lips before he came with a roar.

He placed a gentle kiss to your lips before rolling off of you. He glanced towards you and watched you as you laid there with eyes closed, panting. “You okay?”

You turned your head towards him with a chuckle, “More than okay.” Dean grabbed your hand with a smile and squeezed it tenderly. You laid there for a few moments, enjoying the alone time with Dean before you remembered why you both were alone.

You sat up quickly and scanned the room for your discarded clothes, your eyes landing on your panties as you stood up from the bed to grab them. As you slid your feet through the leg-holes, you looked up at Dean. His brow was furrowed in confusion, “What’s wrong?”

You grabbed his t-shirt from the bed and held it out towards him, silently asking your help as you responded, “Sam is going to be back with food any minute.”

“Oh, crap.” He sat up quickly, helping you put on the shirt quickly before grabbing his clothes from the floor, “I totally forgot about him.”

You shook your head as you laughed, digging through your duffle for pajama pants, “It would have been pretty awkward for him to walk in here to us being naked, twisted up in the sheets with each other.”

He threw his t-shirt over his head, “He’ll find out eventually though.”

You nodded as you settled on a pair of shorts, “Right. But, I don’t need him finding right after we had sex for the first time by walking in on us.”

Dean chuckled as he walked over to you, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he wrapped his arms around you, “That’s true.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your head into his chest, taking in his musk mixed with burning wood from the barn he had set on fire earlier that night. “We can tell him tomorrow,” you said as you looked up at him.

He smirked, “Deal.”

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troubatrain · 3 years

Text

wildfire - b. boeser

a/n: this a repost from my old blog - so for a second time i hope you enjoy!

Summers in Minnesota were your favorite, there was no doubt about it. You could travel around the world three times over and you were positive the lake in your hometown was more important to you than any other wonder of the world. Summer was about lazy days on the water, and this summer, actively avoiding the post graduation real life job search you were going to be on come September. It was late night house parties with the people you’d missed throughout the year, and seeing the one person who made your heart flutter in your chest like no other.

You grip your drink tighter, watching Brock while he works the room. You weren’t surprised when your phone lit up with a text from him about throwing the first party of the summer, it came at the same time every year. He didn’t look much different than he had when you saw him last, his hair a bit longer, his shoulders just a bit broader, but he was still the same. He was walking around his house, greeting guests with his million dollar smile.

“You’re going to do this to yourself again?” Your thoughts are broken by your best friend, Parker, the brunette shaking her head at you, “It’s the same story every year Y/N, you have this romantic summer and come September you both chicken out on letting it last.”

You sigh, knowing your friend was right. It wasn’t that it was Brock’s fault and you could fall under this narrative that he was a player, because it just wasn’t true. Brock was really good to you, and sometimes you thought maybe it could work. But distance was a bitch, and you couldn’t just give your heart to him to have when he’s a million miles away with a schedule that’s as crazy as his.

“I’m not doing it this year,” You say, and even you knew you were lying through your teeth, “It’s not happening.”

You slip out of the room, heading up the stairs to find somewhere quiet to collect your thoughts. You knew you were going to cave the second Brock spoke to you, you always did. He was intoxicating, and he was always there, the same song and dance every summer since you’d been nineteen. It's gotten to the point where you once dumped the guy you’d been seeing because you knew Brock was going to be back home waiting for you. You walk past the bathroom, hearing the sounds of someone hooking up on the other side, and you keep walking into a room you knew all too well.

You slip into Brock’s room, Coolie immediately hopping off the bed and greeting you, his new brother following him to smell you. You sit on the floor, petting both of the dogs until you can hear the door click open.

“I knew I’d find you in here,” Brock chuckles, it wasn’t the first time you’d slipped out of a party to see his dog who’d been finding refuge in his owner's bedroom. Milo trotted over to Brock, his tail wagging in the air with excitement while Coolie remained at your feet, “I think he missed you.”

“I don’t blame him, who’s going to give him treats without telling his dad,” You muse, remembering how many times Brock caught you spoiling his dog, it wasn’t your fault he was cute and you were a sucker. Brock walks over to you, his hand out for you to grab. Your fingers locked with his while he pulled you off the ground, pulling you close enough to feel his breath on you.

“You want to stay tonight?” Brock asks, a smirk gracing his face. It was the way he asked, every summer, and if your answer was yes you knew what else you were agreeing to. Another few months of bliss, followed by a month of heartbreak and tears before you picked yourself up again. You’d mend your own back together only for it to be broken again. Brock nudges you with his nose, his lips ghosting yours, waiting for his answer before he could finally kiss you.

“I’ll stay.”

With your declaration of staying that night, you’d fallen into the same pattern you always have. You stayed at Brock’s more than your own house, and you’d been with him almost everyday since that night, much to Parker’s dismay. You were laying out on Brock’s boat, the dogs at your feet while you watched Brock fish on the other side. The view was something else, aside from the beauty of the lake that you were sitting on, you were getting a full view of the muscles on Brock’s back, his summer tan on full display.

“Stop staring at me,” Brock calls out, turning around and smirking at you, “I can feel your eyes boring into me.”

“It’s a good view,” You joke.

“Is that all I’m good for?” Brock jokes back, “I’m just pretty.”

“The prettiest,” You snap back, tucking your nose back into the book you were reading.

“That’s actually you,” Brock says, walking over to you and placing both of his hands on either side of you, leaning over and planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “You’re beautiful.”

Brock’s compliments were cut short by Milo hopping onto your lap and lightly nibbling his owner’s nose for bothering you. While Coolie had always followed you around Brock’s house, Milo had taken a few more days to warm up to you. But, he was on your side now and that meant Brock was public enemy number one.

“I think they’d choose you if they had the chance,” Brock teases, but a part believed it might actually have been true.

You watched Brock walk back over to his fishing pole, and you could have sworn you heard the sound a camera click but you decided to ignore it. That was until there was notification on your phone that Brock had tagged you in his Instagram story. You open it, it was a photo of you with the dogs at your feet, and you turn to Brock who’d been minding his own business. You weren’t mad, it was just that although every one of your friends, and you were pretty sure your families, knew about you and Brock’s weird summer arrangement because it had gotten past the point of trying to hide it, there was never any evidence of it. Aside from the occasional chirp on one of your Instagram posts, it was like you and Brock didn’t even know each other.

“Brock…” You say, dragging out his name and walking over to him, your arms snaking around his waist. You press a light kiss to his back, “Did you really have to do that?”

“Can’t show off my girl and my dogs?” Brock asks, turning back to you and kissing your lips.

“Your girl?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, my girl.”

The problem with your arrangement with Brock was that he was actually a decent temporary boyfriend. He kept your favorite flavor of ice cream in his house, he gave you endless hoodies when the temperatures would start to drop, and he held your hand when you were out in public. He never hid whatever was going on between the two of you like it was some shameful secret, and you’re pretty sure that’s why you keep coming back. It just feels so real when you’re together you’d never been able to pull yourself away from him. But then you’d remind yourself that this is temporary, and nothing this perfect could last anyways.

“-I heard that he’s got like three girls in Vancouver,” You hear someone at the table next to your say, and you can feel Parker’s foot kick you under the table to get your attention. They were talking about Brock, and you tried to tune them out but you couldn’t. It ate you up at night, when you’d start to think about what Brock’s life in Vancouver was like. He was young, successful, and the team was playing well. You knew he had girls lined up waiting for their chance with him. You didn’t expect him not to give anyone the time of day, he didn’t belong to you. But the words from the girls next to you had your stomach churning, and you wanted nothing more than to walk over to Brock on the other side of the bar to stake your claim. You weren’t possessive or jealous, well you were, but you didn’t need him to know that. So you stayed in your seat, sipping your drink and eavesdropping about whatever rumor was circling about Brock.

“You’re not going to do anything about that?” Parker asks, her eyebrows raising at you.

“He doesn’t belong to me,” You say, your temper rising by the second, “I’m just going to go.”

You stomp out of the bar with your feet moving as fast as they could. You walked in what you assumed was the direction of your house, but after a few blocks, you’d realized you’d been so upset you didn’t know where you were going. You finally stop hearing a huff behind you.

“I’ve been walking behind you this entire time, how did you not notice me?” Brock breathes out, shaking his head at you, “I could’ve been a murderer.”

You close your eyes, turning away from Brock and continuing on your directionless walk, “Not the time Brock.”

You can feel his large hand wrap around your elbow gently, pulling you closer to him, “What’s up?”

“It’s not important,” You whisper, putting your hand on Brock’s chest to push him away, but your hand just tangles itself into the chain on his neck when his arms tighten around you to keep you in his arms, “Brock…”

“Let’s go home,” Brock says, realizing he isn’t going to get you to budge on opening up to him in the middle of the sidewalk, “Please.”

You nod, and you follow him to his truck that had been parked by the bar. You hop in and ride back to his house in silence. You knew you owed him an explanation as to why you rushed out of the bar with the intent of walking home and crying alone, but you couldn’t tell him without admitting that you were jealous.

The sounds of the dogs barking at the truck pulling into the driveway was the only thing that broke you out of your thoughts. You smile, slipping inside to see the two best boys in your life at the current moment. You watch as they both follow you into Brock’s room, and you grab one of his t-shirts, the Canucks logo on your chest and his number on your shoulder.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” Brock asks, sitting at the edge of his bed, his eyes wandering your body in his clothes. You shake your head no, walking over to him and wrapping your legs around his waist, tucking your head into his neck, “C’mon, Y/N.”

“Just something I heard from the girls that were sitting next to us,” You mutter out, feeling Brock’s hand weaving your hair in an attempt to comfort you, and it was working, “About you, and girls, and your life in Vancouver.”

You can hear Brock sigh, and you didn’t know what you were expecting to hear, “You know, one time when I played the Wild, Parker told me you were at a wedding with some guy you were seeing and that’s why you weren’t in town that day. I couldn’t shake the idea of you with someone else from my brain, and I broke three sticks that game.”

“You were jealous?” You ask, finally picking your head up and looking at him.

“So jealous,” Brock mutters, pecking at your lips, “But then you came home for the summer and so did I and it seemed to work itself out.”

“You’re a good guy Brock,” You say, kissing him slowly, “It’s actually almost a little annoying.”

“You keep coming back though,” Brock chuckles, pulling you closer and flopping back onto his bed.

“I always do.”

The Fourth of July was admittedly, Brock’s all time favorite holiday. Every year his annual barbeque seemed to just get bigger, and crazier. This year was no different, you were watching someone set up a giant inflatable water slide that led right into the lake, and in another corner of the yard was a couple of your friends setting up the drinks. The house was decorated elaborately with red white and blue decorations.

“Hey can you put these on the dogs?” Brock asks, chucking two bandanas at you.

You catch the bandanas, laughing to yourself about how they matched the red, white and blue shirt Brock was sporting, the buttons in the front completely undone, “I’m making you take a picture after this.”

“Only if you’re in it too,” Brock says, kissing the side of your head, “A family photo.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and can feel a blush creep onto your cheeks. This summer was different than the ones from the past, Brock was unapologetic about the way he felt about you. He was so much more vocal about it than he used to be.

You didn’t see much of Brock that day, mainly because you sure he invited every person he’s ever met to his party. But you spent most of the day mingling with friends, falling into a lengthy conversation with Brock’s sister who’d been trying to pry into what the nature of your relationship was for years. You always gave her the same answer, a small shrug and telling her that you were just friends even though she’d call you out on lie. By the time the sun went down, you were tipsy and you hadn’t seen Brock once all day. Your phone vibrates next to you, pulling you out of your conversation with Parker about the job she’d just interviewed for.

meet me on my balcony in 5

You smile, excusing yourself from the conversation and making your way upstairs to Brock’s bedroom. You slip in, smiling when you see Brock sitting on the edge of his bed, tossing his phone in the air

“C’mon,” Brock smiles, standing up and grabbing your hand and opening the door to the balcony, you both step out and you turn to him with a confused look on your face.

“Why’d you call me up here?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“It’s the best view for this,” Brock says, pointing to the lake where fireworks had started going off. You weren’t even surprised by the final grand idea Brock had for the Fourth of July. You smile, wrapping your arms around his waist while you watched the colors burst in the sky in front of you, “Too much?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

Elias Pettersson was a bit of an odd guy, but he’d been nothing but kind to you since the moment his plane landed down in Minnesota, a break from his summer in Sweden. Now he was sitting at the large island in Brock’s house, who’d stepped out to head to the store, while you continued with the dinner you were cooking for the three of you.

“So, this actually happens every summer?” Elias asks, grabbing your attention, “I thought Brock was just bullshitting us.”

“Brock talks about me?” You ask, trying to get a grip on exactly how much about your relationship Elias actually knew.

“He does, not to everyone, but when I ask him about his summer he always raves about this girl who he spends it with,” Elias starts, gesturing to you, “I assume that’s you.”

“Is that all he says?” You ask, trying to pry into what Brock was saying about you. You can admit, you wanted to hear every detail so you could overthink it forever. You could torture yourself with knowing whether or not his feelings for you were real or not.

“Is that all who says?” Brock asks, stepping back into the house, dropping the bags on the counter and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Nothing, we were just talking about how much a loser you are,” Elias says, giving you a wink, a secret acknowledgement that your desperate plea for information would be kept between the two of you.

Long after dinner, and a two movies, Elias had headed into the guest room he was staying in and you were sitting on the couch, sipping some tea before bed and reading the rest of the book you’d intended on finishing weeks ago.

“I’m surprised you’re still up,” Brock says, closing the sliding door to the backyard behind him, “You want to tell me what embarrassing things Petey told you before or am I going to have to pry it out of him tomorrow?”

“Nothing embarrassing, he was just asking about us,” You say, smiling at him, “Everyone does Brock.”

“I know,” Brock nods, grabbing the mug out of your hands and sitting next to you on the couch, pulling you into his chest, “Does it bother you? That you don’t have an answer.”

Yes it does. It drives me absolutely insane that I’ve been in love with you for years of my life but I never feel like you’re actually mine.

“No, it doesn’t”

The moment Elias left to head back to Europe for the rest of his summer, Brock had been giving you the silent treatment. You’d gone to the airport with them, and with Elias’s last words about how he better see you in Vancouver at least once this fall, Brock had gone mute. He didn’t look at you once on the entire ride back to his house, and now he was moving around his kitchen, moving things that didn’t need to be moved while he continued to ignore you.

“Brock, what the fuck is your problem?” You finally call out, breaking the silence. In all of the years you’d been together, if that’s what you could even call it, you never actually had gotten into more than a small argument. Even then, Brock never gave you the cold shoulder.

“I don’t have a problem,” Brock defends, when there clearly was a problem.

“Is this about what Elias said?” You ask, waiting for an answer but you see how silent Brock had gotten, you knew the answer was yes, “Is the idea of being with me that bad? You can’t even fathom the idea of seeing me when we’re not home? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“Have you ever thought about how I feel?” Brock shouts back, “Like I have to hear everyone in my life there tell me how fucking wonderful you are and then I have to admit to them that I’m too scared to tell you how I feel? That I love you, so much, but I don’t think I’m enough for you, or that I think you deserve someone who can give you the world but I can’t promise that so I just keep trying to hold onto you the best I can.”

This time, you fell silent. The look on Brock’s face went from tense to the realization of what he actually just said to you. You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you too.”

“If you came to Vancouver, I don’t want you to leave,” Brock says, looking at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips while he waits for your answer.

Your futures always seemed like they’d been heading in the same direction. That Brock was your right person, wrong time relationship. But one day, you always imagined things would work out, and you’d finally have a light at the end of the tunnel. Moving to a new city could be a risk, but Brock had been the biggest constant in your life, and there wasn’t a doubt that if you left with him - he’d never let you go.

“I’ll go.”

#my writing #brock boeser #brock boeser imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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nanamikeento · 4 years

Text

or'trikar

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female!reader

Summary: Your life turns upside down after you and Din give the Child back to his people.

a/n: i blame @goldafterglow for this, she wanted to suffer!!!! anyway, this is part of the redamancy series universe and it’s sad. i’m sorry. enjoy!!

warning: angst, mention of infertility, some fluff cause it’s stronger than me

word count: 2.9k

redamancy | masterlist

The loud noise from the cantina makes you frown. The dizziness starts to get to you, your drunken state taking over your mind. You kinda wish you were alone, but, at the same time, you don't want to be alone. Maybe you shouldn't have snapped and yelled at your spouse, but you really needed a drink. Like, desperately.

Poor Din. All he wanted was to help you. Which is why he brought you to Naboo, the planet that you both spent your honeymoon at. A quarry led you both to the beautiful planet, and he thought you could use a break. You deserved a time just with him, like before.

But, of course, things didn't go as planned. The bounty escaped easily and you snapped at him, telling him you were right and that he should have listened to you. You had stormed out and found the nearest cantina to get shitfaced and forget about your problems. Forget about the sadness that takes over you all the time, every day since the worst day of your life.

Din knows you’re mourning. He knows you need to take your time, process the emotions you’re feeling. And he respects you, he really does. He understands when you snap and yell at him. But, sometimes, he wants to hug you and comfort you in his own way. If only you let him hold you for a moment…

When he enters the cantina, too many eyes stare at him. The place is full of people, humans, and other species too, as he walks among them, scanning the place and looking for you. It’s the third establishment he enters looking for you tonight. You’re not answering the comlink and he doesn’t want to wait in the Crest, worried sick.

Din gets a glimpse of your hair color as he scans the place through the visor of his helmet and cranes his neck to get a better view of the back of the pub. You're sitting across a yellow-skinned Twi'lek, having a drinking contest. The lazy smile on your face indicates you're winning, but Din's heart clenches at the sight. He knows you're not okay, he can see it a mile away.

The Mandalorian makes a beeline to you, pushing past people and bystanders watching the contest. Whispers and murmurs echo the place as he stops right beside you. Ignoring his presence, you down another shot and slam the glass on the table. The Twi’lek looks between you and Din, a scared look on his face.

“What?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. “Can’t handle any–”

“Are you done?” Din’s voice is firm, as he interrupts you.

“No,” You answer, finally looking at him. Noticing his hands closing into fists, you assume he’s mad with you. However, you don’t feel guilty, the alcohol fogging your mind enough for you to ignore your moral compass. “We’re having fun!”

“I think you’ve had enough.” He moves to grab your upper arm and haul you out of your seat.

“Hey!” You protest, but he’s already taking you out of the bar. “I’m just having fun!”

“Yeah, right.”

The hastiness of his movements as he drags you out of the cantina makes your stomach churn. Salivating, you try to swallow but you know what’s coming.

“I’m going to throw up,” You warn him and Din immediately pulls you aside, to the patch of grass behind the place. Your knees hit the wet grass as you let out everything you drank during the night. Din holds your hair, patiently waiting for you to get better. It’s not the first time he sees you like this, but this is different somehow. This comes from a place of hurt and sadness and agony. This is you trying to bury down your feelings, trying to get over them by yourself. It breaks his heart to see you like this. “Fuck.” You try to hold on the tears as your head spins and you swallow hard, tasting the bile and wincing.

“You okay, baby?” His voice is gentle as he asks. Ever the gentle one in the relationship, even though he’s rougher at his job than you. It’s so unfair how patient he is with you, how he easily puts up with you and your slip ups.

The sob that escapes your throat is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear it. Shaking your head, you sniffle and quickly wipe the tears that start falling from your eyes. Din brushes a hand on your hair, tucking it behind your ear; his gloved hand lays gently on the back of your neck as he gives you space to cry.

“Jus- Just take me home,” You whimper, sobbing, unable to meet his eyes with yours. He doesn’t say a word as he helps you stand and walks you back to the Razor Crest.

The inside of the ship is cold as you enter and walk straight to the ladder that leads to the cockpit and your shared quarters. You hear Din closing the hatch and activating ground security protocol as you try to climb the ladder; your foot falters once and, in a second, he’s right below, ready to catch you if you fall. But, even in your altered state, you manage to climb the rest up and head for your quarters, where you try to undress.

“Here, let me help,” Din’s modulated voice startles you a bit as he enters the quarters and approaches you.

"I got it," You mumble, trying to unlace and remove your boots. But your arms are like jelly and moving around is hard when all you want to do is lie down and sleep.

"It's okay, I insist." He gently puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to sit down on the bed.

Din removes your boots with no difficulty, moving on to the holsters on your thigh and waist. He helps you take off your shirt and change to a more comfortable one to sleep; pulling out your trousers and socks right after.

"Din?" Your voice is small, just a whisper in the dim light of the quarters.

"Yes?" He's putting a pair of wool socks on your feet as he answers.

"Why are you so patient with me?"

When he looks at you, he sees the tears cutting through your cheeks. He hasn't taken the helmet off yet, but you can feel his eyes staring intensely at you. A low, modulated, laugh leaves his lips and he shrugs a bit.

"Because I love you." Is his answer. Simple.

"Yeah, but why? How do you put up with me?"

He pauses, tilting his helmet.

"I don't put up with you, cyar'ika." He moves to take his gloves off and lays a warm palm on your thigh. "You're my riduur. We are one even in the worst times. You're not a burden to be putting up, you're the love of my life."

A soft sob escapes your throat and Din cups you cheek, wiping the tears off with his thumb.

"I-I miss him, Din." You choke, grabbing his wrist hard, silently begging him to not let go.

"I know you do, sweetheart." His voice is soft, so soft that you can't help but break down.

Din moves from his kneeled position and reaches up to take off the helmet, planting a kiss on your forehead as soon as he can. His lips are warm and soft as he gives you one more salty kiss on your cheek, his hand gently holding your chin up.

"Lie down," He whispers in your ear. "I'll be with you in a second."

You can't help but oblige, your head hitting the soft pillow as you cry in silence. You hear Din removing his armor as you lie on your side, back turned to him. There's nothing you want more than to feel your riduur's arms around you, but you fall asleep before he lies next to you.

…

Din opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is your profile, staring at the ceiling. You're still, your husband's protective hand still laying flat on your stomach. He frowns when he sees you, wondering if it's already morning. “Sweetheart?" He croaks. You hum an answer, without taking your eyes off the ceiling. "Are you okay?"

You slowly roll your head to meet his eyes, where you see concern in them. Beautiful chocolate eyes he has, full of love and devotion. You can't help a microscopic smile tugging the corners of your lips.

"Do you need water, or something?" He asks, knowing you drank a lot last night and would be thirsty and hangover this morning.

Rolling your head back, your eyes are back to the ceiling.

"Can't remember the last time I was okay." Your voice is a whisper, but it doesn't quiver. "Actually, I do."

Din approaches you, hand still on your stomach, until his nose touches your cheeks where he gently nuzzles your skin. When you don't pull back, he buries his face on the crook of your neck, trying to offer some comfort.

“Did we make a terrible mistake, Din?”

You feel him tense on your skin, but relaxes as he sighs and thinks of an answer.

“I ask myself the same thing every night.” He confesses and you roll your head on the pillow to look at him, a sudden realization coming to you. You were so lost in your own feelings that you forgot to consider Din’s own feelings. He’s mourning just like you. He’s suffering just like you. It’s simply not fair for him to suffer in silence while you lash out at him every time you feel overwhelmed. “But you know what keeps me going?” He interrupts your inner self-loathing monologue and you look at him, waiting for the answer. “You.”

Tears water your eyes and a sob leaves your throat. Din cradles the back of your head and pulls you to an embrace as you bury your face on his tunic.

"Shit." You sob. "I'm so sorry, Din. I'm so, so sorry."

"Shh." He coos, his fingertips running through your scalp. "It's okay, my sweet girl."

"It's not," You whimper. "I'm a shitty wife, I didn't even–"

"Hey," He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him. His voice is stern as he speaks. "Don't ever say this again. You are an amazing partner and you know I'd do anything for you."

A wave of fresh tears water your eyes again as you hear his words. "Even after I yelled at you and got drunk and threw up on the grass?"

"Cyar’ika, you know I'll always be there to hold your hair, even if you don't want me to."

A small smile spreads your face, but it fades away too soon. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were in pain too."

Din pulls you back to that same embrace, tucking your head under his chin.

"Don’t apologize.” He mumbles. “But you have to let me comfort you. You have to let me–” He chokes a sob, his tears falling on your hair. You don’t mention them, but you feel the wetness on your scalp.

“I know,” You whisper, face buried again on his neck. “I’m sorry–"

"Stop–"

"I have to say it, Din." You let out a desperate sigh. "I'm sorry. I was too deep into my own feelings that I didn't even acknowledge yours."

He presses a kiss on your hair, tightening his grip on you. You can feel his heartbeat against yours, your chests pressed together.

A silent pause hangs in the air until you speak again. "Do you think he misses us?"

Din doesn’t answer for a moment, just holds you silently, stroking your hair and tracing circles on your back. When he speaks, you feel his chest rumble with his voice.

“I think he does.” He pauses. “But he’s home now.”

You have to fight the tears that burn your eyes. Swallowing hard, you snake your hands around his torso, holding him gently, feeling the warmth of his skin through his sleep tunic. Then you feel his shoulders shuddering with the sobs he lets out. All you can do is hold him and cry with him.

The pain you both feel is too real and it’s something you thought you’d never feel. Of course, deep down, you’ve always known once you and Din find his people, you’d have to return him to his home. But it still hurt. It still hurts.

“What if–” He sobs. “Cya– Cyar’ika, what if we– we were his home?”

You pull away to look at him. His eyes red, tears running down his cheeks. You’ve never seen him like this, so broken and vulnerable and your heart breaks at the sight. Quickly switching roles, you move to wipe his tears with your thumb, cradling his face and pulling him to a comforting embrace. He buries his face on your neck and you can’t help but notice the parallel between his actions and yours. Din lets all out, not holding back the sobs and whimpers and the tears that wet your tunic. You can’t contain your own tears, crying silently with him. It’s only after he calms down a bit, minutes later, that you speak.

“If we are his home, then he’ll come back to us.” Your voice is a rushed whisper, laced with empathy. “They have our comlink info, if he needs he can contact us, right?”

The breath Din takes is shaky as he sighs deeply, nuzzling his wet face on your neck. He is silent for a moment, but he’s calmer now; you can feel his body relax and melt against yours as you run your fingers on his scalp, your nails running lightly on his skin.

“You were the best mom he could've ever had.” He says, suddenly. You smile at that, closing your eyes and pressing your lips on his hair, above his ear.

“And you were the best dad.”

The room fills with silence as you both close your eyes and fall asleep in each other's arms.

…

When the morning finally comes, you feel a little better waking up. Opening your eyes, you don't feel the headache you thought you'd feel either from the hangover or from crying last night. You feel fine, physically. When you look to Din's side of the bed you realize he's not here. As you sit up and stretch, the door to your quarters hisses open and he enters the room, holding two cups of caf. You smile at him as he sits back on the bed and hands you a cup mirroring your smile.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asks, and you know he's not asking about the hangover.

You nod, backing up to the wall where your bed touches, leaning on the cold surface as you sip the hot drink. He leans on the headboard, staying on a perpendicular position. "You?"

He nods too, placing a hand on your leg that now sits on his lap. Silence hangs in the air as you both drink your hot beverages, deep in your minds. Until Din breaks it.

"I was thinking…"

"You do that?" You tease and hide a smile with the cup as he looks at you surprised. It's the first time you've made a joke ever since you both had to leave that small planet where your son stayed. He thinks about mentioning he missed your smile, but saves it for now. Now, he just wants your opinion, so he just narrows his eyes at you and says,

"Funny." With a flat voice. You suppress a laugh and nod for him to continue. "Meshl'a, I know nothing in the galaxy will replace him… But, I was thinking that maybe–" He hesitates, tracing circles with his thumb on your skin. "Maybe we should–"

"Steal another baby?" You interrupt him and watch as he widens his eyes and hangs his mouth open, surprised. He lets out a laugh, throwing his head back and you smile at the sight. You missed his laugh.

"I wouldn't put it like that." He wipes a tear from the corner of his eyes. "But yeah, maybe we should steal another baby."

"I was thinking the same thing." Your smile fades as you assume a more serious tone in your voice. Hesitating, you look away, cheeks burning with shame. "I didn't want you to think I wanted a substitute for the green bean, that's why I didn't mention it."

"Baby…" He runs his hand up your legs and rests it on your knee.

"Remember when we decided to have another baby?" You speak before him. "When I found out I couldn't, I felt bad for you, because I know how important a family is to your culture–" Din says your name, trying to argue but you don't let him. "Just let me finish." You swallow, cradling your cup on your hands. "I still want that. I have always wanted that. And, yes, there's nothing in this galaxy or in the next one that will replace him, but… I still want to be a mom."

Din eyes water as he sets his cup of caf on the bedside table and approaches you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He takes your caf and places it besides his as he crowds you with his body.

“Is that a yes?” You mumble on his mouth, smiling.

Din pulls away just enough to look at you. His hand cups your cheek and you close your eyes at his touch. “I missed your smile.” He confesses.

You press your lips against his, pulling him closer to you.

“Yes.” He finally says. “Let’s steal another baby.”

You don’t hold back the laugh that leaves your lips. Even if everything goes wrong, you still have him and he still has you.

Mando’a translations:

cyar’ika - sweetheart

meshl’a - beautiful

riduur - spouse

or’trikar - grief

tags: @adikaofmandalore @yespolkadotkitty @goldafterglow

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #myfic

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mrsseverussnape · 3 years

Text

Love Is You - chapter 17

The very next day after the minister of magic elections, Scarlett had to go back to the ministry for a meeting to finalize everything. Since the other candidate, Amos Langley, has been caught and sent to Azkaban because of his actions, Scarlett was the new Minister of Magic now. She was proud and happy that she got her revenge, also now she was following her mother’s and grandfather’s steps as being the minister. But because of Amos Langley the ministry was a wreck, Scarlett had to re-do so many things to make it decent again. First thing she decided on was alive death eaters’ fate and there was only one choice: send them back to Azkaban without a plea. Then Scarlett needed to choose a deputy minister, she had one person in mind: Corentin Howells. He was a long-time friend and colleague of her so she could rely on him. When she asked Corentin about that new job, first he was surprised but then he gladly accepted her offer and promised her that he would never betray her trust. Then Scarlett and Corentin assigned new attendants to the jobs which were left empty by the death eaters now. Also, she re-legislated her law that Amos abolished.

The ministry would have its summer holidays in a week so Scarlett tried to do as much as she could in a single day. She has arrived the ministry at 8 am and now the clock was showing 9:30 pm. She wasn’t aware of the time until Corentin told her to go home and rest, since it has been a long day for both of them and they were still tired from yesterday’s unpleasant events. They left the ministry together just to meet tomorrow morning again. Instead of going home, Scarlett decided to stop by at Hogwarts to see her daughter and break the news about her presidency before Carina could read it on newspapers tomorrow. Also Scarlett had to explain that Amos Langley and death eaters duty she was in to both of her children. She hasn’t told them anything about it to keep them away from any possible danger but after yesterday’s events broke down in the news she has received howlers from both Carina and Leo, and they were not pleased at all.

Half an hour later Scarlett was waiting Carina to answer her room’s door excitedly. Seconds later Carina opened the door and she was surprised to see her mum, she wasn’t expecting her at all.

“Hi darling!” Scarlett chimed with a big smile on her face.

“Hi mum, come in!”

“I brought strawberry shortcake, your favourite!” She put the cake on the table and sat next to it on the table while smiling widely.

“What’s going on mum?” Carina was confused, it was rare to see her mum that excited. And after what happened yesterday, her being that happy was weird.

“Not mum, call me Miss Minister!” She grinned.

“No way!? Congrats mama!! Oh sorry, Miss Minister!” She hugged her mum tightly while giggling. “I am so happy for you!”

“Thank you, baby.” Scarlett kissed her daughter’s head. “I haven’t felt that good for a long time.”

“Let’s eat the cake and feel better!” Carina was slicing the cake while thinking if she should ask about yesterday’s events and risk ruining the happy mood. “Mum... I was wond-“

“I know, i know.” Scarlett sighed. “I also came here to tell you about it. It is a long story so buckle up.”

Scarlett started from the very first meeting with Amos Langley and continued with rest of the events chronologically. Carina had hard time to process all of them, she was shocked. She couldn’t believe herself how she didn’t suspect anything at all for months.

“I...I don’t know what to say mum. Like i was around you, dad, uncle Remus and Professor Snape all the time and i didn’t suspect anything. Good job, really.”

“We have experience, it would be a shame for us if you understood what’s going on.” She laughed softly and held Carina’s hand. “I know you wasn’t expecting to hear all of these but don’t worry, okay? None of us in danger anymore and everything is way better now.”

Carina nodded slowly. “Don’t hide such things from me and Leo tho. What if something happened to you and dad, we would have no idea why it happened.”

“We are just trying to protect you, please try to understand us.”

“I know mum but just...” she sighed and snuggled up her mum. “Be careful. I love you.”

Scarlett wrapped her arms around her daughter tightly while showering her with soft kisses. “I love you more my beautiful baby.”

They cuddled for a while and talked about anything and everything until Carina got sleepy in her mum’s embrace.

“Somebody is sleepy!” Scarlett booped Carina’s nose. “I will leave so you can sleep. I don’t want Professor Snape to scold you tomorrow.” She chuckled while kissing her cheek.

“He might.” Carina chuckled too. “Good night Miss Minister.”

“Good night minister’s daughter.” Scarlett blew a kiss to Carina before leaving her room.

Scarlett decided sit by the Great Lake for a while before apparating her home because it was such a beautiful June night today and the lake was her favourite place at Hogwarts. She was walking down the dark corridor to go to the gardens when a light beam blinded her.

“Where do you think you are going!? Don’t cover your face you sneaky-”

Scarlett’s sight was gone cause of the strong light but she recognized the voice very well, so she cut in his sentence. “Severus move that light out of my face!”

“Scar...? ” Severus Snape lowered his wand to see her clearly. Scarlett was rubbing her eyes and causing them to be even more watery at the time. “You alright...?” He muttered.

“You almost blinded me but yeah.” She chuckled.

Severus felt relieved after hearing her chuckle. “I thought you were a student. What are you doing here at that hour?”

“I look young huh?” Scarlett grinned while Severus rolled his eyes at her. “I came to visit Carina and to give her the news. And i was going to the lake before you caught me.”

“Do you mind... if i join you...?”

“Nope. I need someone to escort me since my sight is still blurry, thanks to someone.” Scarlett smiled when he offered his arm.

They walked to the lake arm in arm while enjoying each other’s company. They sat down on the closest bench to the Great Lake. Severus watched Scarlett who was enjoying herself while looking at the lake with a genuine smile on her face. His view made the grumpy professor smile too. “You look so happy today.”

“I am, Severus. I completed another dream of mine; be the Minister of Magic. Check!” She giggled happily. “Although i would prefer a better journey but still i got what i wanted.”

“I am so proud of you. I always knew you would be the minister one day and also a good one.”

“You didn’t see me on the act yet, none of us really know if i will be a good one or bad.”

“Former minister was Langley, you can’t beat his badness. No worries.” Severus grinned at her.

“You have a point Mr. Snape.” Scarlett chuckled and stared at the starry sky for a while.

Severus was happy for her but also he was feeling sad deep down because with all that order meetings, events etc. he had a reason to see Scarlett every week. But now their duty was done and they had different paths in front of them. In the past 30 years he got used to live without her even it was very hard but now she was back and he couldn’t get enough of her to let her go once again.

“Will you come to Hogwarts... sometimes...?” He blurted out silently.

“For what?” Scarlett was confused by his question and looked at him.

Severus shrugged, he knew it was a stupid question. “Nevermind...”

“You started something and please complete it Severus.”

“I...I will...” He looked at her beautiful face and thought “now or never” then without any further thought Severus pressed his thin lips into her red ones. Scarlett was caught off guard and couldn’t react to the kiss at first which made Severus pull away in seconds. “I... Sorry...” He stood up to leave, he just wanted to vanish. He was sure that he ruined everything between them and now he lost the slightest chance to see her again. But Scarlett caught him by the hand before he could go away.

“Don’t be sorry.” She stood up and pulled him down for another kiss and this time it was full of emotions and lust. Severus held her tightly into his body while deepened the kiss even more. Their lips were like two puzzle pieces which fit each other perfectly. Both had to pull away unwillingly to need of breathing sometime later. Severus pressed his forehead into hers while still holding her tightly.

“To complete my sentence; i will miss you Scarlett... I got used to seeing you…”

“I will visit you and you are always welcome at the ministry or in my home too.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips. She has missed him so much that she couldn’t get enough of. “And you will be in summer holidays soon, so am i.”

“Is this an invitation?” Severus grinned and rubbed her now swollen lips with his thumb.

“Take it however you wish.” She kissed his thumb. “I have to go...”

Severus sighed deeply, he didn’t want her to leave his embrace. But he slowly obliged and let her go unwillingly. “Good night then...”

“Good night Sev.” Scarlett kissed corner of his lips and waved at him before appareting. Severus sat back down on the bench with a stupid smile on his face, his heart was beating like he ran miles. He wasn’t sure if that was a dream or real but the warmness on his lips made him believe that it was real.

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13 @mrssnivellussnape @mestin-writes @echoofawind

If you wanna be on my taglist, let me know!

#severus snape #pro snape #snape #sirius black #mrs.severussnape #fanfiction #fanfic #severus snape fluff #severus snape x oc #sirius black x oc #fluff fanfiction #snape fluff #original charater #oc fanfic #love is you #mrsseverussnapefanfic

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floralguccistyles · 3 years

Photo

epilogue

...he probably loves you

After four months of dating Niall, our families and friends still couldn’t believe it.

Apparently, Niall’s feelings had only been apparent to my sisters, because when we told our parents that we were dating, they had stared at us with supportive confusion. Niamh had mourned the loss of the five hundred dollars four our Jamaica trip, but she had thrown an arm around my shoulders and congratulated me. And then, in a surprising turn of events, had started crying when Patrick announced he couldn’t contain himself anymore and proposed to her shortly after Niall and I had made our announcement.

Niall had just smiled his beautiful smile at me and pulled me closer into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’ve just realized!” His mom shouted in the middle of our movie. It was Greg’s pick tonight, so naturally he had chosen a Disney movie that Theo would actually be interested in. His wife had already dozed off to sleep, pregnant with number two and according to Greg, “unable to stay awake for more than five minutes.”

“Christ, Mum,” Greg complained, jumping from her loud exclamation.

“We can get Rose and Niall couples gifts for their birthdays!”

Niall raised his brow. I was curled up against him, my own eyes falling shut every couple of moments. The new job working for Eric’s brand was exhilarating and exciting, but it was a lot of work getting a start up business off the ground. Often, I would come home late and simply collapse on my couch while Niall took pity on me and made me dinner.

“Mum, our birthdays are five days away. Have you not gotten us anything yet?” he joked, his thumb running back and forth across my arm.

“You’ve always been hard to shop for,” his mum said simply, waving us off, her brain looking like it was going a million miles a minute with the new possibility of a couple’s present. “Not you though, Rose. You’re an angel to shop for.”

I grinned up at Niall. “I’m an angel,” I whispered.

His nose wrinkled. “Whatever.” But he quickly kissed my nose, ignoring Violet’s protest against PDA.

Violet was sitting on the floor by my feet, her nose buried in her phone as she waited on a text from the cute guy in her summer anatomy class she had a crush on. She had been hesitant to tell me about him, but three weeks ago, at one of our weekly-Thursday lunches, she confessed that he’d asked her to study with him. After hearing that, I had pushed and demanded she show me a picture and tell me his name.

He seemed nerdy and sweet. His name was Arjun, and he had helped her study for the final, where he stammered his way through the entirety of their study session before blurting out that he thought she was pretty and wanted to take her on a date.

They had been texting each other back and forth since.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this,” she had told Lily and I while we gushed over how cute it was that she had a crush on someone, especially after her good friend started dating the last guy she’d had feelings for.

Lily, on my other side, was leaning on the arm of the couch, her eyes slowly blinking in and out of sleep. She officially had her law degree and was going through what her coworkers lovingly called “Hell Year.” Her first year of being a lawyer and dealing with all the shitty cases was getting to her. However, she still managed to drag herself to our weekly lunches and had even mentioned that she had decided to go on a weekend getaway to London with Carmen, her coworker.

Violet caught me looking at her phone and shielded it from my view. I just playfully kicked her side.

After the movie, Niall drove us back to my apartment. It was nothing special, just a one bedroom, one bath. But it was mine. And while I still didn’t sleep all the way through the night except on the nights when Niall stayed over, I was working on it. I unlocked the door and let the both of us in, kicking off my shoes and flipping the light switch on.

Before I could take another step, Niall’s arms were around my waist and his mouth was on mine. I would never get tired of his kisses, of the way his hands would tease under the hem of my shirt and touch my heated skin. He always kissed with an eagerness, the kind of happiness that only someone who had been in love for a long time possessed.

“It’s so hard to sit next to you at family functions,” he sighed out against my lips. I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Unlike my mother, I already got your birthday gift.”

“If you say my birthday gift is sex with you, I might actually have to hit you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That would be your birthday gift to me, Rosebud.”

I knew he didn’t mean anything by it. We hadn’t taken that final leap into our physical relationship yet. He was cautious and I was still unsure it was something I was ready for after my incident with Kent. The group I had been attending had been a huge help and I got coffee with Wendi and Carlos (two sexual assault survivors I had met and befriended at group) occasionally. Still, there was a small part of me that wondered if I would ever truly get over it.

And I wondered if Niall resented that.

He saw the look on my face and his smile melted away. “I didn’t mean it like that, Rosebud. You know that,” he said softly, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I know,” I replied, “I know. I’m sorry I’m a piece of work.”

He shook his head, his arms encircling me and pulling me into his body. “You are not a piece of work. You’re the girl I love and will continue to love, no matter what boundaries you set. You know that. Nothing could make me love you less.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. Every time he told me he loved me, I got butterflies in my stomach and my lungs stopped working properly. “You staying over tonight?”

“If you want me here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I always want you here, Niall.”

He kissed me again, his lips soft and gentle. “Mind if I shower really quick?”

“Go ahead. I’m gonna make some hot chocolate.”

I watched him walk up the stairs, a smile on my face when he turned back to wink at me. When I heard the shower start up in ym small bathroom, I turned towards my kitchen and grabbed two disposable coffee cups and a Sharpie. Niall liked his hot chocolate made with the little chocolate sticks I bought at the store, so I poured milk into the saucepan and heated it before depositing one of the little sticks inside. He was also a big baby who demanded the little marshmallows, so I grabbed the bag from my pantry and set them on the counter to add to his drink later.

My heart was pounding. I had been planning this for a while, but just tonight felt confident enough to do it. So I poured his hot chocolate into his cup with shaking hands and raised the Sharpie to the side of the cup, scribbling down the message. I still had pictures of all the notes he’d written me, including the one from this morning, when he had written “love you more than you know, Rosebud.”

And he did. He loved me more than I could ever comprehend. The four months being with him, he had never failed to show me just how much. He held me when I woke up with a nightmare, kissed me on the forehead when I was frustrated with work, held my hands when I got home from group. But I’d realized the things he’d done for me before, too. Like picking me up when Lily couldn’t, staying on the phone with me when I asked it of him, always making me laugh.

Niall Horan truly loved me. More than I’d ever been loved.

And I needed him to know that his feelings were reciprocated.

I heard him before I saw him. He was loud as he walked over my hardwood floors, chattering on about some thought he had in the shower. I should have been a better girlfriend and listened properly, but my hands were still shaking and I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest and run away. I turned, catching sight of him in his comfy black sweats and a white tee with that signature grin on his face.

“I forgot my shampoo at my place, so I used yours and now I smell like a lovely lilac spring.”

Just like that, my nerves evaporated. I didn’t know how Niall did that, make me so sure of myself, but he did. This man loved me. And I loved him. He deserved to know how much and not have me chicken out at the last minute.

I walked over to him, giving him a little sniff. “Very nice, very manly.”

“Nothing manlier than using my girl’s shampoo. Just shows how much I love her.”

“Is that what it does?” I asked playfully, reaching his cup out towards him. He took it in his hand, bringing it up to sip at it.

“Hey, you put in the little marshmallows this time,” he commented happily, taking another drink before he pulled the cup back. His large thumb covered my small writing, but he caught the tail of the ‘y’ and maneuvered his hand so he could read it. I saw the moment the words caught up with him, the moment he registered what I had written.

I love you more than you know.

“Rosebud…” His voice was delicate, like it could shatter in a single moment. “Do you mean it?”

In lieu of a response, I took the hot chocolate cup out of his hands and set in on the coffee table. I grasped his face in my hands, giving him a watery smile. “Thank you for being patient with me. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he breathed out. I felt honored and cherished when I saw the tears in his eyes just from my simple confession. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So much.”

The earth could have collapsed around us. The ground could have opened up and swallowed us whole. All that mattered was Niall as he surged forward and kissed me hungrily, his tongue delving into my mouth to tangle with mine. His hands were tightly wound in my hair, but didn’t pull or tug. He just held me there, like if he let me go I would dissipate. He’d never kissed me like this, but I’d never kissed him when he was a Niall who knew how much I loved him. And he’d never kissed the Rose that had finally stopped running and admitted her feelings to him.

“My birthday present to you feels shitty now.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to the surface. “This wasn’t your birthday gift.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “This was more. So much more.”

He kissed me again, his touch sure and unwavering. “Thanks for loving me, Rosebud,” he whispered, repeating my words from so many months ago.

So I decided to repeat his back. “It’s the easiest thing in the world, Niall.”

Oh my god. Wildflower is over. I cannot believe this. This started as a random thought in my head one day because I needed a good friends to lovers but with a twist, and suddenly Rose was born. This is the first story I’ve finished on this blog and will always hold a special place in my heart. Thank you to everyone for reading this little story and for all your support. I refuse to let go of Niall and Rose forever, so don’t be surprised if I write little drabbles for them, but I’m excited for what the future holds in terms of my writing.

I give one big giant virtual hug to all of you. You don’t know how much you guys mean to me.

#wf #wildflower #1dff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan au

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majesticbrownjawn · 4 years

Text

Delicate

Violet reluctantly goes to a house party with her bestie. Meets Erik. Is subsequently turned out. 😩

————————————

"So you coming girl? It's gon be lots of niggas there."

"I'm good. I'm not tryna meet no niggas. I'm tryna meet a man."

Violet was thirty-three and far past the time for games. She was focused and didn't want a man to come and throw her off her game. That's what her 20s had been for and she'd left them behind almost four years ago.

"I need you to be my wingman though. Pleaseeeeee."

"Fine. I'll come, but I'm driving and just know I'm leaving yo ass when I'm ready to go."

Three hours later she was in her car listening to Siri giving her directions to the kickback.

"Girl, where the hell we going?"

"Uhhhhh..." Trina knew if she'd told Violet where the party was, she wouldn't have come. She loved her friend, but she could be uptight and snooty.

"Um, hello. I'm not talking to Siri's ass, Trina.

"Oakland," she squeaked.

"Trina!"

"I know. But I really wanted to come. This is Devante's best friend's party and I didn't want to go alone. I won't know anyone else there."

Trina was the opposite of Violet in that she was blinded by her desire for companionship. Most times she'd end up hurt or used, or both, only to make the same mistake with the next guy. Devante seemed to be a little better, but Violet hadn't met him yet, so she couldn't say for sure. Violet had a keen intuition and she rarely read people wrong. She was eager to see what Devante was all about.

Violet looked at the GPS and saw they only had about 10 minutes left on their ride. If they hadn't been so close, she would have turned back in the direction of her condo.

They pulled up to the home and compared to the others on the block, it looked out of place. It was, well, nice. No doubt an anomaly among the rest of what comes to mind of what people like Violet might think stereotypical Oakland looks like.

Violet groaned when she realized they'd have to park about a block down the street. Cars lined the area and she hoped the people who drove those cars weren't in the same place they were headed. It was a futile hope and as they got closer, the smell of ganja overwhelmed them. They were hit with another wave when they opened the door to the home.

"You're paying to get my hair washed, Trina!"

Violet was forced to yell in her friend's ear. Music was blaring from a wall of speakers to her right. It was artistic in a way. They resembled something she'd seen at a museum last summer in Brooklyn.

The pair weaved through the crowd of people. Some looked like Oakland natives, some looked like hipsters, others looked like something else entirely. It was just mid-afternoon but there were already people here and there passed out drunk.

A group of older men sat around playing spades and cracking jokes at each other. The sight was strange, down to the cheap fold away table. The house was immaculately decorated and the table just didn't fit in. Violet figured one of the men probably brought it with them. Maybe they lived just on the other side of this house on a block that looked more like the Oakland she saw on TV. She and Trina squeezed around the men to enter the kitchen, where they found Devante, but more importantly for Violet—drinks. She was already eager to leave and they'd just arrived. She meant what she said about leaving when she got fed up, but it wouldn't have been fair to tell her best friend she was ready to go now. Especially not after she saw the way Trina and Devante made heart eyes at each other.

"What up doe? I'm Devante." He extended his hand to her and she took it hesitantly.

The first thing she noticed was his strong accent. He was an Oakland native. Devante also wasn't yelling. The kitchen was far away enough from the speakers that one could have a conversation without risking losing their voice from screaming. They talked for about 20 minutes, but it was a one-sided dialogue that consisted of Violet asking him questions and him answering. He took her interrogation in stride, responding patiently and thoughtfully. At the end of it, she decided he was corny as fuck. But in a good way, kinda like Nick Cannon, but with a West Coast vibe. Her gut told her he was OK, for now. She wasn't interested in watching the two of them carry on like teenagers, so she made her way out of the kitchen and back out into the crowd.

She quickly regretted her decision as she was tossed about in the sea of people. She held her drink close to her chest, a strategy she hoped would save the Henny in her red Solo cup. Violet huffed as she finally made it to the front porch and glanced inside. There was a corner left and she scowled at it like that would magically refill it. She shotted the remaining liquid and licked what was left of the spillage from her index and middle fingers.

"Damn girl. That's how you feel?"

Violet nearly broke her neck moving her head in the direction of the voice. It came from across the porch. A shadowy figure stood just out of clear view, which was strange because it was still daylight outside. She hadn't noticed before, but the porch was of the wrap around variety and this person stood just as the porch took a turn for the other side of the house.

"Excuse me?" She was embarrassed that someone had seen her, but she'd be damned if she let one of these Oakland dudes shame her.

Shame.

Hmm.

The shadow man took a step forward and revealed himself to be quite interesting. She had a habit of looking at men she met from foot to head. She used to judge a man on his shoes first. She wasn't as shallow as she had once been, but the habit of doing it never went away. He wore a pair of those sock looking sneakers, gray joggers and a fitted long sleeve Henley tee. His thick muscular frame filled in everything beautifully.

To put it simply, he looked good.

"You ain't never been to the Town before, have you?" He took a few more steps into view and sat on an outdoor couch on the opposite side of the porch.

"What town?"

"Guess not," he scoffed.

She scrunched her brows confused and annoyed. She didn't like not knowing something. Was the Town a club? Maybe he thought he'd seen her there befo—

"Oakland. That's what we call Oakland."

Oh.

She watched him as he rolled his sleeves up casually, but there was anything casual about the way his forearms looked. Violet's intuition sensors started going haywire. The alarms in her head were about as loud as the music inside the house.

"Want more?" A sly half grin swept across his face as he tempted her, waving a nearly full fifth of Hennessy at her.

"You looked like you wanted more...the way you were licking those fingers a second ago."

She stared at him, fuming. Even more embarrassed now.

"C'mere."

She didn't want to, those alarms were still warning her to stay away from this man.

But Hennessy.

She took a deep breath as she rose and walked to him. The few steps felt like miles.

"Sit."

Violet plopped to the far end of the outdoor couch.

"Why you all the way over there? You scared?"

Yes.

She hadn't been close to a man this fine since—never, actually. He was the finest man she'd ever laid eyes on. She was certain of it now that she was up close. The realization made her nervous.

"What's your name babygirl?"

"I'm not your baby or a girl. Are you going to give me some or not?" She raised her empty cup to his face. Her attitude and entitlement was almost unattractive but it was something different than what he was used to. She intrigued him.

He grinned again, shifting closer to her.

"Yea, but first lick your fingers again for me."

Violet yelped at the request. She'd never been asked something so vulgar in such a forward manner, by a complete stranger. Had she not been in the hood and had this man not been so damn fine, she likely would have slapped him and got up to find her friend. She instead just stared at him appalled, offended and anxious.

He crept closer, as close as he could get, approaching her like a jaguar ready to pounce. The shadow man's arm rested behind her head on the back of the couch, the smell of him refusing to be ignored.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

The combination of sweetness and spice made blood rush through her veins like whitewater in a rapid. He leaned into her neck and her eyes fluttered at how close he was. She could feel the heat leaving his body.

"I don't like to repeat myself, babygirl." He rested his hand on the curve of her neck, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the length of her throat. He finally gave her a bit more breathing room, but his hand stayed put.

Violet was a deer in headlights. Completely struck by the situation. His boldness. His beauty. His dominance. And that she was fighting the fact she liked it. She glanced down at her own hand seriously contemplating doing it. Not for the Henny, but because she wanted to please him.

She looked back up at him.

"I-I dunno—"

And suddenly her fingers were in her mouth. He'd grabbed her hand while she was distracted trying to make a decision.

Violet's eyes widened and she let out a soft whimper as he guided her fingers in and out her mouth.

"That's right. Look at me. You got some pretty ass eyes." He spoke his words slowly and carefully, allowing her to see the slugs on his lower canines for the first time.

She cursed herself in her head as she now willingly sucked and licked on her fingers, giving him what he wanted.

After he was satisfied, he removed her fingers from her mouth and studied how wet and blush her lips were now. The thought of sliding his dick between them made him twitch.

"Open up." He tapped the bottle to her lips and gave her a shot's worth before pouring more in her cup. He got up and headed for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Her question sounded desperate. He heard it too, the smug look on his face was a clear indication of such.

"We going back inside. C'mon."

Violet sprung up like a weed. She was surprised to see his hand outstretched to her. She didn't want to take it so easily, but she knew the mass of people standing around on the other side of the door would likely separate them if she didn't. She held his hand and marveled at how warm it was. She felt this odd sense of comfort holding it.

Violet's gaze then became fixed on his arms and those scars. She moved her hand above his wrist and gently padded the first few rows on his forearm. The touch made him jerk his head back at her and the look he gave scared her enough to move her hand back to his and keep it there.

She noticed her and Shadow Man's walk was much easier than hers and Trina's. People seemed to move out of his way as he approached them. Some moved out of the way with a look of awe, it seemed. Or was it respect? Maybe even fear? His stride was smooth and confident as he parted the crowd like Moses and she wondered just what she was doing with him. What possessed her to follow him in here, holding his hand? What did he have planned for her?

She was relieved when they approached that table with the men playing cards. Maybe they were headed for the kitchen and Trina could talk some sense into her.

"Y'all old niggas still playing? Ain't it time for y'all to report back to the nursing home?" The table erupted in laughter. Violet even snickered to herself a bit. The Shadow Man had a sense of humor it seemed.

"If you don't get yo' mop head ass outta here, E," one of the old men replied.

Another gentleman threatened to 'whoop his ass' like they used to for wearing that size ‘smedium’ shirt.

"Watch ya mouf unc!" Shadow Man joked. Or was it E? The first man called him E. It should've mattered. She didn't plan on telling him her name anyway.

Violet was disappointed to see that her best friend wasn't in the kitchen. That meant she was on her own in trying to be rational about this situation.

"Why you looking like that?"

She raised a brow at him.

"All worried and shit." He pressed his thumb against the wrinkles between her brows. She was sure he didn't mean for it to be, but the action was calming. She shrugged at him and that seemed to be answer enough.

There were still a few people milling about in the kitchen, but it mostly cleared out when they entered the space. He seemed to know the few stragglers still there and it made her wonder just who he was.

"Who are you?"

He laughed at her question as he leaned on the counter across from her. He was taking too long to answer and her mind raced with the possibilities of who he might be.

"I don't like repeating myself either...E." She took a satisfied swig from her cup.

That'll teach him.

Shadow Man didn't seem to like it though. He quickly stepped to her and forced himself back into her space, clenching his jaws.

"You went to college, huh? Prolly grad school too." Not the response she expected but he was right, nevertheless.

"Yea. And?" She didn't feel as intimidated as she had before.

Had to be the Hennessy.

"You smart." She smiled at his compliment.

"Problem is," he continued, "You think you smarter than me and everybody else in here."

E was also a good read of people. He knew her type and she stuck out like a sore thumb here, but only because of her bougie ass disposition.

"You not though." He cupped her ass firmly.

"See, I know I'm smarter than yo uppity ass...Cuz I knew you'd like my hands on you like this."

He slapped her behind and the sting rang across the kitchen. The short, thin dress she wore did nothing to muffle the sound. She started to look around her to see if anyone was looking but he grabbed her chin, keeping her eyes and focus on him.

"And you weren't smart enough to stay away from me." Her heart pounded. He was telling her everything she knew already.

"Why should I stay away from you?"

"Exactly, babygirl."

What? That's wasn't an applicable answer to her question.

He was watching her lips again, but this time she noticed. His tight little eyelashes blinked slowly at her pout before traveling back up to her 'pretty ass eyes.'

"You wanna kiss me,” she whispered.

"That's a question or a statement?"

"You tell me, since you so smart, E." He slapped her ass again for her sarcastic remark. This time she didn't try to scan the room for a potential audience. She didn't seem to care.

His frame enveloped her, despite her being a good 5'8" and thickly. She rarely felt small but she did now and it was a complete turn on.

One hand on her ass and the other on her face was how he started the kiss. She started it with a gasp. His lips were velvety soft. Her eyes were open at first. She had to make sure he was really kissing her. When she saw his were closed, she followed suit and was thrust into a kiss unlike any kiss she'd had in her life. Who knew thug type niggas kissed like this? It was rough, yet gentle and hot all at the same time. He pulled away from her only after suckling her full lips and finishing their kiss with a surprisingly sweet final peck.

She was stuck there for a moment, eyes still closed and leaning towards him. Until she realized he was gone. She looked back out the kitchen, past the old man card table and saw his short, stiff, dreadlocked ponytail hovering just above the crowd. She darted out the kitchen after him.

She found the courage to muscle through the crowd, because this time she had good reason to. Her own height assisted in her effort to keep an eye on the tips of his locs. Where the fuck was he going? The fact that he'd abruptly left after their kiss made a swell of insecurity rise up in her, yet she continued following him.

Violet felt some relief when she saw him heading up a flight of stairs above her. She hurried to the base of the steps and took a deep breath. She didn't want to be here just an hour ago and now she was following the Shadow Man up the stairs in some stranger's house.

Those pesky sirens in her head were blaring now. She could barely hear her own thoughts.

When she saw him disappear into the darkness of the hallway upstairs, her feet involuntary took the first step, and the one after that, until she found herself at the top looking down into the sea of people below. She continued down the dark hall looking for him. There was a slightly ajar door at the end of it that had a light shining from underneath it.

She pushed the door open slowly. There were sketches and what looked like computer parts all over the room. She gave herself a tour of the room and assessed that whoever lived in this house was probably a genius or at least smart as hell.

Impressive.

She was intrigued to the point that she momentarily forgot about him. When she was done being nosy, she headed for the door, flipped the light off and simultaneously felt two hands around her throat. The strength of the person was terrifying. It had only been a few seconds and she already felt lightheaded. Violet's arms flailed around, trying to grasp the light switch. If she was going to die tonight, she would at least see her killer. They must have sensed her plan and pulled her closer to them.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

"E...," she croaked as her hand made contact with the forearm of her attacker. His raised skin gave him away. She felt relieved that she knew it was him, despite the fact that his grip hadn't loosened around her neck.

"Please...I'm gonna...pass out..." she tapped at his hand and he released her.

"The fuck you doing up here, babygirl?!"

#erik killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x black!reader #killmonger x oc #erik killmonger #killmonger smut #killmonger x reader

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alienisticxo · 3 years

Text

X Angel - Chapter 3

Elon Musk x Reader

{Authors Note} I am considering taking requests, so if you have anything Elon-y that you’d like me to write, feel free to send them in my asks <3

I hope you continue to enjoy! You can also find this on AO3 and Wattpad. xo

Warnings: None

My security team immediately took one step closer to me as though this were some sort of communicated threat. But a strikingly cool grin crossed Elon’s lips— one that told he clearly didn’t care what anyone else thought about the matter.

“You can’t try the merchandise before you buy, sorry,” Jett retorted with no actual indication of being sorry.

“That’s not it,” he assured with a light laugh. “I’d like to see her without being under so much pressure.”

I eyed Elon then, a metallic eyebrow arched. While I was very much everyone’s golden child, cash cow, etc., no one had ever made an attempt at considering my own feelings in any situation. I was only to do as I was told. My thoughts or emotions were the least of everyone and anyone’s concerns, even though I had very much capitalized off of their fear of my denying their requests. At the end of the day, I was just another toy to play with, and that had all become very clear, very quickly. Coming to terms with the fact that they seemed to have fooled me more than I thought I was fooling them was going to be another story altogether. Still, to hear Elon say something like that surprised me-- almost making me as skeptical as everyone else suddenly was. What would the real reason be? On another hand, I was in disbelief that he might also be as kind as I hoped he would be on top of it all.

“Mr. Musk,” began one of the men who remained at the table nervously, “Please don’t make this difficult.”

They were clearly afraid of saying the wrong thing to him, walking on eggshells so to speak. To keep from risking the successful purchase of myself, however, they must’ve felt they had to confront him regardless of their fear.

“I’m not making anything difficult,” he said plainly, beginning to approach me then. “These beings are far more intelligent than we are, clearly capable of mimicking human emotion. You’re all poking and prodding her and she’s programmed quite authentically. She looks…” he paused, his hand lightly motioning toward me as he kept a polite distance. “Well, she looks nervous.”

I immediately checked my facial expression and posture, loosening up the best I could without giving away that he was correct. He had been watching me the entire time without saying a word, studying me to a tee without catching anyone’s attention. So much so, even I hadn’t noticed him standing in the corner until he made his presence known. I should’ve expected he'd been doing so the moment my eyes landed on him, but I had been so preoccupied in my own thoughts about the entire ordeal. Now I still couldn’t shake the shock of his way of treating me… like a person.

The man sighed through his nostrils, clearly exasperated at the request. But the other men paused and exchanged thoughtful glances, seeming to begin to understand where Elon was coming from.

“Hm… I suppose you’re right,” one said, causing the original man to clench his jaw.

“No dice,” said Jett flatly.

The man who’d examined me’s eyes seemed to light up then, and he turned to Jett, suddenly yearning to oblige Elon. I decided it was because of Jett’s insistence on not allowing it, so he himself wouldn’t appear to be the ‘bad guy.’ However, the others seemed genuinely curious themselves once he’d mentioned the notion.

“Perhaps if not alone with one of us, we can put her behind a glass of some sort,” one spoke up convincingly. “See how she acts without any outside influence whatsoever. Either way, it’s very important. We can’t expect someone to be with her twenty-four-seven on Earth to make sure she's still the bright and shining star we all know and love. It would be impossible.”

Elon breathed a laugh then, shaking his head as he reached a hand into his jacket, revealing a holographic card only seconds later.

Jett’s eyes shone like crystals in the sun the moment they set on the translucent object, his attention quickly caught and his interest extremely piqued. He pretended to mull over Elon’s offer with a hum.

“I guess we could cut a deal, Musk,” he said, feigning contemplation. “How much we talkin’?”

How fast his voice grew gravely and intrigued again. I wondered how much he was making off of my purchase as I stood like a statue, only able to watch what was happening from what felt like miles away. I wasn’t sure of his intentions, but I felt compelled to allow him the request. I hoped it was for something important. Maybe even something that could help me get out of the situation I now found myself in. At the very least, I just wanted the opportunity that so many dreamt of- to have time with him, no matter what it was about.

“However much you’d like,” was all he said. “But I’d like to see her for myself in a more natural situation— a one on one setting.”

I bit my tongue before gathering enough courage to speak confidently in a room full of intimidating people, unsure of whether or not my tactics would still work.

Here goes.

“There’s no need for that. Let Mr. Musk do as he wants, Jett,” I demanded, holding my hand out in a gesture to push the card Elon held down. “Or I walk from Astra before you have a chance to sign me away at all.”

I didn’t mean to backhandedly mention their signing me away, but I couldn’t help it. It must’ve worked in my favor, as Jett’s nostrils flared, and if looks could kill, I wouldn’t have needed to walk. I would’ve dropped dead right there. Cybernetic stars didn’t demand much of anything, ever. But I certainly had a tendency to threaten to cut all functions when I didn’t get what I was after, and Astra needed me far too much.

Or at least, they did.

Who were they going to replace me with?

But I digress…

My human requests and reactions were a major part of what made me so lifelike to everyone I deal with. It was unheard of among the others and they just weren’t sure if I was bluffing or not. That was what made me the only one like me. The special one, the star I was. It was what purchased my penthouse with the idyllic view and each one of my Tesla’s; what kept me living in the lap of luxury and able to help those I needed to help. Though of course, I always had to play my cards right, using my demands only in opportune moments. That was what kept me afloat with Astra as well.

A.I. was just tricky that way, and while no one knew for sure, Jett knew better with me. I was tempted to use this strategy in the situation I was dealing with now. But I knew better, too. No one would want me if I opposed it altogether, and I’d be left to the crime ridden outskirts like a few before me had been, too. It was obvious I was no longer an asset to the label.

Jett pushed past Elon then, clearly fuming over my interference with his under-the-table payment.

“Five minutes,” was all Jett said as he approached the doors to leave the room, not turning back to look at anyone.

There was a brief smirk on Elon’s lips before he nodded for the other men to follow Jett, who quite willingly did so, and before too long, I was alone with the only man I’d ever admired.

I knew I was supposed to be more at ease with the sudden lack of eyes prying into my entirety, but my nerves continued to get the better of me. How could they not when standing next to someone as awe inspiring as Elon Musk? Maybe to any other person who didn’t care, it would’ve been easy, a relief. But I found myself trying my best to keep my composure even though I’d pushed for the request.

Not sure what I was expecting, I remained silent, my metallic fingernails clicking against each other in front of me. I felt like a child who was waiting for punishment. But the silence wasn’t as awkward as I was waiting for it to become. That was clearly his doing and not mine, as he was cool as ever. I waited for him to speak first, my voice too caught in my throat, anyway.

He turned towards the beautiful view before us, looking out over it into the night sky. The bright lights cast the same glow they had when he stood beside the window, but slightly dimmer, adding a sultry shadow to his features that I damned myself for noticing. He exhaled audibly, but not dramatically, eyes scanning over the skyline.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” He asked.

Small talk. Odd.

“Yeah,” I responded quietly. “One of the reasons I wa-“

I caught myself, noticing his green eyes glance in my direction without facing towards me completely. Pausing a moment to feign an error, I started speaking again, facing out over the view myself, then. “One of the reasons I love it here so much.”

He either suspected it was an error, or wasn’t concerned as he continued the conversation with no reservations.

“Earth isn’t so terrible,” he said. “Sure, we’ve fucked it up pretty badly, but it could be worse.”

I smiled. He was absolutely correct.

“Aren’t you headed for Mars, anyway?” I piped up next, unable to conceal my admiration.

“You’ve heard about that, huh?” He asked, turning to face me then.

I discreetly stiffened up again as he studied my features, the slightest furrow in his brow. I could tell he was trying to figure me out; figure out who could’ve pieced me together. What kind of rival company he might be up against without even knowing it. A.I. lifeforms were lifelike, damn near realistic, but it hadn’t advanced to the point I exhibited yet. Most people didn’t think twice, just saw how phenomenal I was— the walking, talking, cybernetic pop star that everyone wanted to be just like.

Elon was far, far more intelligent than that.

“You’re synonymous with space travel,” I responded a bit flatly, as though I was simply pulling the information from a database in my mind instead of revealing I just knew about him. “Mars was your first target. NASA pushed for X, and here you are now.”

He lifted a brow, an almost amused expression on his features as he let me speak.

“Why are you here? Buying a pop star hardly seems like your forte,” I continued, not wanting to sound as confused and even a little hurt at the notion as I was.

His response was a chuckle. He was certainly amused now.

“You’ve got a point there. I’m here to figure you out, Miss {Y/L/N},” he said, wobbling his head to one side a bit. “You’ve been all the talk back on Earth. The latest and greatest A.I. creation. You’re scaring people, to be quite frank, and I’m interested in.. picking your brain, so to speak.”

My face fell. Something about that gave me an uneasy feeling. I hadn’t exactly put together that I was feared while everyone I encountered adored me for all that I was. Or.. All they thought I was. The last thing I wanted was to scare people-- It wasn’t even the last thing, it wasn’t a thing I wanted at all. I knew I was something of a puppet to pertain to the masses in order to get messages across, but being completely frightening wasn’t on my to-do list.

“Scaring people?” was all I could manage, the slightest twinge of hurt in my voice.

“You move, speak, act and react as though you are a human being. No company, and certainly no one, has been able to package all of this kind of complex engineering into a real, walking, talking cybernetic human form. At least, not without it looking completely fake. Other cybernetic celebrities, while convincing enough to the untrained eye, haven’t been able to hold a candle to your authenticity,” his expression was serious as he held my gaze. “You must realize the kind of trouble that could put humanity into.”

He paused, thinking for a moment.

“More trouble than we’re already in,” he finished then.

All at once, I was lost for words. What I had expected to be making an impact in a monetary way was only frightening people in other places. I wondered if Xian’s felt the same way, or if they just turned a blind eye to the fact that I was the way I was. Perhaps they felt as though Planet X had simply had it all under control with the advanced technology they were known for. I had questions, of course. Who wouldn’t? But I had to keep my own front up. I responded the only way I knew how.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m just here to be a star,” I forced a smile.

He breathed another quiet laugh then, his eyes dropping before looking back out at the view for a moment. He picked up on my programming side holding my guard up at the question. “Of course you are,” he said quietly.

I suddenly felt crushed. I didn’t want him to dislike me, or feel as though I was a threat to mankind or anyone who may have crossed my path. I also didn’t want him to feel as though I were nothing more than another dumb pop star that was so well-known around celebrity culture. A million things ran through my mind at once, but I couldn’t voice any of them. I was caught between what I should say and what would happen if I did. While I didn’t know him from anyone, I felt quite obligated to be honest with him. It seemed as though so far, while only a few sentences in, he had been nothing but honest with me. There was something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on; something I couldn’t get past. The desire to let him in was overwhelming, but I pushed it away, chalking it up to the grave admiration I felt for him and nothing more. I didn’t know him, after all.

His hands were in his pockets, but after a few more seconds of silence hanging between us, his eyes met mine again before averting to my neck. Looking as though he wanted to say something, I studied him with a fervent curiosity. He lifted a finger quickly then with an inhale, softly gesturing towards my hair.

“May I?” He asked gently.

I knew then what he was after. He wanted to check for an indication of a company himself, knowing where they usually hide their numbers and letters in etching rather than stamping it on in ink. I wondered if that was the only reason he wanted to get me alone in the first place, and tried not to feel the faint pang of hurt in my chest.

While the idea was clever, he wouldn’t find what he was looking for, and I knew this all too well. Still, playing ball as I knew I had to, I obliged.

“Of course,” I nodded once, tilting my head a bit to allow him more access to the area he was to begin searching.

With careful hands, he moved my hair, his fingers gliding under my ear and to the nape of my neck, delicately feeling for any indication of an etching. I could hear his hand brush against the cold metal of my body, and instead of the previous hurt, a sudden, surprising pang of longing struck me as I deeply wished I could feel the warmth of his fingers.

My brow furrowed just slightly while I sat with the unforgivable thought as he continued his hunt. His cologne seemed to emanate around me, and the scent alone relaxed me without my noticing at first. There was something kind about his hesitance, his desire to treat me as not something that simply made people made money, but someone, with feelings and opinions. The notion was something I’d have to get used to, but not unwelcome in the least. I couldn’t help but notice he was certainly attractive, even more so up close than I’d casually noticed in photos, and his consideration for me alone spoke volumes— asking my permission, the gentle touch he used when I allowed it; it was admirable in and of itself. Cybernetic beings were seldom cared for in such a way. He seemed to treat me as an equal.

“Hm,” he finally contemplated, taking me back out of my thoughts once more. “I don’t feel anything,” he thought aloud.

“Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t just create myself,” I joked, my voice airy as I tried to keep the mood light.

But he wasn’t laughing as he carefully removed his hand and let my {H/C} hair fall back into place. I’m fact, his countenance read quite grave as our eyes met once more.

“It’s troubling,” was all he said as the doors swung back open, slightly startling us both.

#elon musk #elon musk x reader #elon musk fanfiction #fanfiction #elon musk fanfic #spacex #tesla #cyberpunk #fanfic #darklydreaming #x angel #futurism #grimes #slow burn #fanfic writer #writers

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