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colormepurplex2 · 2 years

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Till Death Do Us Part | Enigmatic Decisions Of The Heart

↳ Hitman Yoongi x Kidnapped f.Reader ⤜ Enemies/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,766 ⚠️ Lots of angst, fake virginity loss, mild blood, mild cum play, things get a little weird...but in a good way?

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Happiness, like many other things, is a subjective experience. What makes one person happy may not be the same for someone else. If anyone were to ask whether or not you're happy, you're not entirely sure how you would respond. Happy that you're alive? Sure. Happy that you'll be walking down the aisle to marry someone you consider an enemy in just a few short hours? Not exactly. Happy you have a roof over your head? Only when it's snowing. Snow reminds you of a day you'd rather sooner forget. Happy to have food in your belly? The way the sausage and eggs from breakfast sit in the pit of your stomach right now means the jury is still out on that one, but you'd wager to say yes most times. The point is, you're trying to come to terms with finding your own happiness. There has to be a silver lining. If there was ever a lesson from your father that you took to heart, it was the fact that we are often the product of our own choices. Meaning, you can choose where to find happiness. You just have to want to see it. Even if it's in places you may have once taken for granted. The sun on your face, the wind in your hair; they may be little things, even a little cliché, but they're things that are so common no one would think to deprive you of them. Small pieces of happiness.

You're sitting at one of the windows in your room, staring out over the backyard. There are a handful of men dressed in dark blue jumpers working diligently to set up a few chairs in front of the gazebo in the garden. Others are placing arranged flower pieces of royal purple and black down the makeshift aisle. You can't help but smile bitterly, looking at the colors you chose. It was a surprise when Yoongi gave you that choice, the one thing you've had control over for this entire arrangement. You chose purple because it's your favorite and black because you think it suits Yoongi and his damned soul. You thought it would be ugly. Though, the irony of them blending together so well in the flower baskets is not lost on you. But, it's too late to change it now.

The rest of the reception last night went by in a numbing motion of flowery speeches and forced pleasantries. It was hard to focus on any of the words. All you could focus on was the crawling feeling between your thighs. Cleaning up with Yoongi's discarded jacket didn't exactly give you any peace of mind other than the fact the garment got soiled. It made you grin for a moment before the guilt set in, thinking how it wouldn't make a difference to Yoongi, as he wouldn't be the one cleaning the jacket. You made it a point to locate Mai after the speeches and profusely apologize. She took the jacket with a bit of trepidation but didn't ask any questions, simply excused herself to take care of it.

A soft knock at the door makes the memories fade away, leaving behind just the ache in your chest.

"It's open," you call, as you stand from the seat by the window. The door swings open slowly, revealing Mai on the other side. She has traded in her usual black pants and white button-down for a floor-length, long-sleeve black dress. You give her a once over. "Mai, dressed for the occasion, I see. Funerals, weddings, might as well be the same thing, huh?"

Her steps falter with your words. Large brown eyes meet yours and you watch as the color drains from her face. "Miss, I'm sorry, I didn't- this is just- please, let me go change."

You wave a hand in the air, shaking your head. "No, no. I'm sorry, Mai, I was only kidding. You look great. Please, I love that dress on you. I was just trying to lighten my mood, that's all. Truly."

The look on her face slips a little, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Okay, Miss," she accepts softly. You can tell she's having an internal battle about whether to actually accept your words or immediately go change as she said she would.

"What's first, hair or makeup?" you ask in hopes of drawing the conversation away to something else.

Mai gives you a tight smile with a small nod of her head. "Right. Well, I think it's best we start with both."

"Both?"

Before Mai can respond, you hear the clicking of high heels coming toward your room from out in the hall. A moment later you're greeted with a sing-songy, "Good afternoon, you beautiful bitch."

Miriam struts into the room, bringing with her a cloud of floral perfume. "Miriam," you say in surprise. You weren't expecting to see her here.

"The one and only." She winks and gives you an exaggerated bow. Snapping up and tossing Mai a sweet smile, she smooths her lilac-colored dress over her ample hips. The color of the dress contrasts beautifully with her deep ochre skin and ebony ringlets. "Let's get to it, Mai-Mai, we only have a few more hours before our friend here joins the ranks of us degenerates." Her sparkling brown eyes meet yours and she bites her pink-painted bottom lip. "Ready to enter Hell for all eternity, princess?"

An hour later, Miriam is still working pins and curls into your hair while Mai applies subtle makeup meant to emphasize your eyes and lips. The two features you long ago learned are Yoongi's favorites of your face. "What was your wedding like, Miriam?" you question, taking a small sip of the champagne she had snuck into your room. You weren't allowed to attend their wedding, but you remember the day it happened.

Miriam gives a sharp laugh. "Oh, fuck. Let's see...well, it was similar to this. Only in the fact I was about to marry a man I hardly knew and become part of a family I wasn't the biggest fan of. That's the thing with arranged marriages, though, right? It's so archaic." She takes a step back, drawing your attention through the mirror of your dressing table. "I am man, let me beat my chest and proclaim women as property to trade," she mocks in a deep grumble, smacking her fist against her chest for emphasis. "Bunch of assholes if you ask me. But, daddy wanted in with The Hitman, so here we are." Her shoulders jump up in a quick shrug. "I chose hot pink and lime green, intending to just piss Seokjin off. It didn't really work, the jerk actually complimented them. I'll say, really, Seokjinnie isn't so bad. After I bloodied his nose or lip a time or two he learned I wasn't just some sniveling little girl he could walk all over."

She catches your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror. "Bloodied nose?"

"Pow, right in the kisser," she chortles, punching the air a few times. "You can't let these apes get the best of you, love. You have to give just as good as you get. That goes for all aspects." She gives you a pointed look. "If he treats you right, you treat him right. End of it. Got it?"

You want nothing more than to cling to her words. But, all you can seem to do is give a small nod and hope she doesn't notice the already flowering defeat in your eyes. You're not sure Yoongi will ever treat you right again, so what's the point? After a moment you smile a little. "Bloodied nose," you murmur to yourself. Maybe you'll try that next. What's the worst that could happen?

"You're still a virgin, right?" You gawk at her in the mirror, her question taking you by surprise.

"Miriam, I don't-," you begin but she bursts out into a full belly laugh, cutting you off.

She waves a hand in the air. "I'm only asking so I can impart a little bit of advice where that's concerned." Her right eyebrow arches high up her forehead.

You clear your throat, dropping your eyes to Mai's feet where she stands in front of you. "I am and have it constantly monitored. It's part of the contract, I've never even used a tampon," you murmur, your upper lip curling in irritation. Growing up, your mother would go bonkers anytime you brought them up, saying you shouldn't use such things until you're much older. After everything that happened, you couldn't help but think perhaps maybe your mom was somehow trying to appease whatever future husband you might have gained the interest of. All she really did was manipulate and control your life much the way it's being controlled now, it was just disguised as the love of a mother.

Miriam sighs. "It was the same for me," she confirms, softly. "Look at me," she requests, placing a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes come up, meeting hers in the mirror. "I know it might seem impossible now, but if you can look past the situation and just focus on the good you know is here in Yoongi," she taps her chest gently, "it won't be so bad. You might even enjoy it."

An unattractive snort works its way out of your nose. "You don't have to have the birds and bees talk with me, Miriam. I know what sex is and what it involves. I don't expect to enjoy it, not when I don't have a choice in the matter."

"That's where you're wrong, though," she muses as she resumes teasing your hair into place. "You do have a choice, in a sense. You can choose to own the moment. Don't just slap on a brave face and bear it. Take control, find your own pleasure."

Is that something you're capable of? Miriam makes it sound so easy. But, the more you think about it, the less you feel like that's something you can do. A choice? It doesn't feel much like a choice. Perhaps, when the time comes, you'll be able to see it a little differently.

The only attendees of your wedding, aside from yourself and Yoongi, are his dad, brothers, Miriam, Mai, and Wenton, Yoongi's assistant. The Hitman, himself, officiated the wedding. His words were gruff and to the point, skipping all the fluffy symbolism. You went through the motions, walking yourself down the aisle, handing your purple and black bouquet off to Miriam, reciting the vows, and eventually, became Yoongi's wife. He barely looked at you the entire time, his focus either on the ground at your feet or on his father. A small part of you kept screaming at him in your head, begging for him to just look at you...to see you. He didn't.

It doesn't go unnoticed to you that The Hitman didn't offer up for anyone to make objections. Not that you would expect any of these people to come to your rescue. It's just the principle of the matter, you think. There is no after-party or dinner. Everyone simply goes their separate ways after you're pronounced husband and wife.

"Meet me out front in an hour," Yoongi grumbles, leaving you standing in the gazebo with his father.

His dismissive attitude shouldn't surprise you, but you can't help the way the ache in your chest digs a little deeper. You begin to gather the voluminous skirt of your dress to head toward the house when a hand catches your wrist.

You look back, eyes meeting those of The Hitman. Fight or flight is a serious battle of wills. Right now, you want nothing more than to rip your wrist from his grasp and run screaming. There are no words he could utter to you that you want to hear.

"You're part of my family now, girl. I expect you to act like it, you understand?" When you just blink up at him in silence he gives your wrist a generous shake. "Understand?" he repeats.

"Yes." His eyes narrow and his grip tightens around your wrist. You wince, adding, "sir. Yes, sir."

He gives a jerk of his chin, roughly releasing your wrist before turning on his heel, stepping from the gazebo and heading further into the garden. "See to it that you do," he calls without looking back.

Despite the burning behind your eyes, you stop the tears before they can even begin, refusing to let that man have any control over your emotions. Giving his retreating form one last glance, you turn toward the house and make your own way out of the gazebo.

Mai follows quietly behind you all the way to your room. You half expect Miriam to show up again, but shortly after you begin pulling the pins from your hair, you hear her voice carry down the hall and continue past your door. Miriam once had a room here, too. After marrying Seokjin, though, they both moved to another home on the property. It's not all that far from the main house, but far enough away that you've only seen her two other times since then. You imagine you'll be in your own home with Yoongi soon enough as well. It's hard to decide whether that's a blessing or a curse.

"I know of a precious little boutique that will put this in a shadow box for you," Mai comments, helping you slip out of your wedding gown.

You can't help the scoff that slips out. "I don't know about that, Mai. I don't exactly care that much about it, sorry." That's not exactly the truth, but not wholly a lie either. You didn't get to pick the dress out, but it seems Yoongi has a knack for choosing pretty things for you to wear. It's a painfully beautiful dress, one you would have cried happy tears over if it were for any other reason than marrying him. The sweetheart neckline is adorned with real amethysts that cascade in a light gradient down the bodice. The full skirt flares from the hip with small black roses embroidered along the hem. It's definitely not a traditional gown by any means. You'd almost wager to guess he had it custom-made. But, that seems a bit absurd considering the circumstances.

"As you say, Miss." Mai just nods and scoops up the dress when you step out of it. You know she'll probably have it put into a shadow box anyways. Perhaps that should bother you, but instead, you feel a small pang of gratitude for her putting up with your shit moods, this one included.

Half an hour later, you follow Wenton as he carries your suitcase down the stairs. Mai helped you pack. Or rather, she packed while you sat on your bed and sulked. You're not bringing much, just enough clothes for a week, a few essentials, and a book you doubt you'll actually read. Yoongi is taking you to a cabin in the mountains, one of the properties owned by the family. Mai was instructed to make sure your clothing was suited for snow, as the weather on the mountain is a bit unpredictable this time of year. It's still mild here in the valley, a chill in the air at night, but nothing beyond warranting a light jacket as the sun goes down.

Wenton loads your suitcase into the trunk space of the SUV waiting out front. Yoongi is standing by the backdoor scrolling through his phone. He gives you a quick glance before pulling open the door and waving a hand toward the interior.

Mai whispers a quiet 'goodbye' as you climb into the backseat. The door clicks closed behind you. It's not soundproof by any means, but still, you're only able to barely hear the conversation outside.

"You'll be expected back no later than next Monday," The Hitman barks from the doorway of the house. "We have a flight to Warsaw that we can't afford to miss."

Yoongi scoffs, but you're certain it's not loud enough to carry to his father. "Understood, sir," he calls a little louder.

The other door to the back pops open, surprising you. "Hey there, little mouse," a deep voice purrs. Just as your eyes go to the open door, Namjoon appears. Lightheadedness creeps over you as your heart begins to pound. "You're going to be good for my big brother, right?" Suddenly, he's looming over you, one knee pressed into the seat with a large palm against the driver's seat headrest. He chuckles darkly as you start to fumble for the door handle, trying to get it open and escape.

You nearly go tumbling out of the vehicle when the door snaps open, but you find yourself caught in Yoongi's arms instead. "Fuck off, Namjoon," he growls.

Namjoon turns his lips down into a mock pout. "I was just making sure your wife would be on her best behavior, brother. You know, uphold her wifely duties and all." He winks, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Get. Out." Yoongi snaps, still holding you against his chest.

Finally, Namjoon slides out of the vehicle. Before he closes the door, he gives Yoongi a look filled with so much violence that you're surprised blood isn't being drawn. "Don't make me have to have another little chat with you, Yoongi. Unlike you, I keep my promises." The door slams shut and Namjoon disappears from view.

"What is he talking about, Yoongi?" you ask into the quiet interior.

Yoongi shakes his head before helping you sit back up in the seat. He nudges you until you slide over and make room for him. Which is surprising. You thought he would be riding up front with Wenton, who is now sliding into the driver's seat.

"It's a long drive, we'll stop for dinner in about two hours. You should try to rest between now and then," Yoongi explains before promptly pulling out his phone and ignoring you again.

Dinner consists of drive-thru burgers and fries. You were hesitant to give your order, waiting for Yoongi to gripe about the carbs and saturated fats. But, he didn't say anything to you, just ordered his own burger and a vanilla milkshake.

Wenton is quiet the entire ride, only deeming to speak when spoken to by Yoongi. He listens to classical music on the radio so low you're barely aware of it unless you focus really hard. Yoongi continues to ignore you. After dinner, it's another three hours before Wenton pulls off onto a side road and the terrain changes.

Before long you're jostling in your seat, gripping the handle above the window, and trying not to smack your head against the glass as you peer into the darkness. The sun went down shortly after the stop for dinner, so it's pretty much impossible to make out anything that lines the road at this point.

"Is it safe to be driving on this road at night?" you venture to ask, feeling uneasy as the SUV crawls through a dip that sends your shoulder bouncing off the door.

"Wenton has driven the road many times, there is nothing to be worried about," Yoongi mumbles in response, still glued to his phone. "We'll be there soon anyway."

True to his word, maybe ten minutes later, the road evens out and you catch a glint of iron in the moonlight as Wenton drives through an open gate. The headlights illuminate the cabin as he pulls the SUV to a stop. It's not terribly big, but it looks cozy enough with large windows and a wrap-around porch.

"Do you think it'll snow?" you ask softly, silently praying he says 'no'. You hate the snow.

Yoongi opens his door, steps out, and then offers you his hand to help you down beside him. "Most likely," he finally responds, releasing your hand and turning towards the back of the SUV. Wenton already has the hatch door open, pulling out your suitcase. "Let's get inside and I'll show you around."

The inside of the cabin is much like you would expect. An open concept living room, kitchen, and dining room combo. There is a small mudroom off the kitchen. Through there, there is a door that leads outside and two interior doors. One opens up to a single bedroom where Wenton will be staying, the other to a bathroom that houses the washer and dryer, too.

A large river-stone fireplace takes up almost an entire wall of the living room. The couch and recliner look like they've been well-loved, their beige upholstery faded with use. The oak cabinets in the kitchen are stained a dark chestnut that matches the rugged bench-style dining table. It's a stark contrast to the house back at the estate. You love it.

Family portraits line the wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. You follow Yoongi up the stairs, he has both yours and his suitcases clutched in his hands. Just as you make it to the top of the stairs, one of the photos catches your attention. It's just like all the others, a candid shot of a happy family. You recognize The Hitman and the seven sons. It's clear the picture is old, as the boys don't even look to be more than in their early teens.

But, what really draws your attention is the woman in the photo. She's sitting on a wooden swing in what you recognize as the rose garden back at the estate. Her head is thrown back and her mouth is open wide in a laugh as Namjoon and Jungkook are frozen behind her with their arms extended like they just gave her a good push on the swing. The other sons are sprawled out on a checkered blanket off the side, in the middle of spreading out what looks like a picnic. The Hitman stands almost out of frame, his arms crossed as he looks down at the boys on the blanket. You study the picture, leaning in trying to get a better look at the woman. It's hard to make out her face due to the angle it's tilted back at.

"Yoongi, who-," your question about who she is cuts off abruptly when you turn and find Yoongi no longer in your sight. "Yoongi?" you call, hurrying up the last few steps and down the hall before you. "Where did you go?"

"In here." He pokes his head out from the last door on the left.

You jog down the hall, passing the other two doors in the hallway. Stepping into the room, your feet falter. "Holy shit," you whisper, taking in the view. The entire back wall of the room is floor-to-ceiling glass. There is a large four-poster king bed directly across from it, ensuring the first thing you'll see when you wake up is a view of the mountain and the river that winds behind the cabin. There is scant other furniture in the room, simple wooden bedside tables, and a cushioned chair beside the door leading to the bathroom and closet.

Yoongi's back is to you as he rolls both of the suitcases into the closet. "Just wait til the sun comes up in the morning. It's one of my favorite views," he comments absently. When he turns, the look on his face is one you've never seen before. He looks...sad.

"Is everything okay?" You don't expect him to tell you if there's something wrong, but it's natural for you to express concern for others.

The bedroom is only illuminated by a bedside lamp. It casts his profile in shadows as he closes the distance to you. He stops just a few inches short of you. This close, you're able to see the thin sheen of perspiration coating his forehead. "It will be," he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear. In a louder voice, "best get this over with."

"Get what over with?" Your words turn into a small gasp as his hands grip the bottom of your sweater and begin to pull it up. "Yoongi, wait. Can't we wait?" He continues trying to tug the top over your head. "Please!" You swat at his hands but they get tangled in the material as he finally pulls it over your head.

Your arms are yanked free and he tosses it to the side. Before you can take a step back and put space between you, his arms are locking you in place. The whooshing sound of your blood pounding echoes in your ears. It makes it hard to hear his words. "I know you hate me, I know you don't trust me. I get it, I expect nothing less. But, please, please, just trust me this once. I promise I'll explain, I promise I won't hurt you." You can hear the plea in his voice, the way it cracks with emotion as he makes that last promise. His lips are so close to your ear that they brush it with each word.

He's scaring you, the words just adding to the feeling. Finally loosening his hold, he puts a few inches between your bodies. "Yoongi, I...," you begin to question him but your words trail off when his eyes fill with anguish. His chin jerks just slightly, like he's wanting to shake his head no but stops himself. It's like he wants to say something but can't. There is no reason for you to trust him, he said as much himself. But, the ache that's been sitting in your chest for days now is turning into an ache of sympathy. There is clearly something going on with him, something he isn't able to express. It's a leap of faith, but you roll your lips between your teeth and finally try to relax. It's not like you didn't know this would be happening anyway.

Lifting one of his arms from around you, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, discarding it next to yours. You've never seen Yoongi without a shirt on. Surprisingly. Any time you found him in the pool room or he took you to the lake, he was wearing a rash guard top. Scars litter his chest and stomach. Some are faded, barely there, but others are thick and puckered, still pink like they're recent. You don't realize you're running your fingers over one across his chest until you feel him flinch away. "Don't," he whispers. "Come on," he takes the hand hovering over his chest and pulls you toward the bed.

His movements are slow, deliberately so. It's like he's trying to soothe you even though he's stripping your clothing off. With each article he removes, his fingers skim over your skin in feather-soft brushes. By the time you're completely naked, your body wears a coat of goosebumps instead. All you can do is stare at him, his eyes locked on yours, as he slips off the rest of his own clothes. For a moment you think maybe you should be the one to do that, but you can't seem to make your limbs function anymore. His throat contracts as he audibly swallows. If you didn't know any better you'd think he was nervous.

You don't even have to look down to know something is mildly wrong, but you do anyway. Just a quick flick of your eyes and you confirm it. He's not hard. You have a moment of panic, a self-conscious drop of dread that there's something wrong with your body. Though, you quickly realize it's not you, it's not that you're not attractive or that he doesn't like your body. You know he does, it's gotten him hard before. But, it's the anguish that is still evident in his face, the hollowness in his eyes. It's like he's not all here, his mind somewhere else outside of this bedroom.

What needs to happen obviously can't if things stay how they are. You reach out and cup him, trying to coax him into a state of arousal. "Is this okay?" you ask softly. Is this part of the choice Miriam talked about? His brows pinch together but he doesn't move to stop you. It works. You can feel him growing against your palm, the rise and fall of his chest quickens. His hand is suddenly on yours, halting you from going further. Maintaining eye contact, he reaches out and pulls back the sheets on the bed.

You crawl backwards onto the bed and he follows. There is a tremble to the way he moves like he's fighting not to shake like a branch in a windstorm. "Leave it on." He stops your hand from reaching out to the bedside lamp to turn it off. "I, uh, I ne-...want to see you." There is definitely something wrong. Warning bells are sounding in your head.

"Yoongi, what's-?" He cuts your question of concern off with a finger to your lips.

He gives you a look that only lasts a brief second, but in that second you see his vulnerability. Gone is the monster from last night. The man you stood across from in the gazebo just hours ago has disappeared, in his place is a scared and lost soul. You begin to shake your head and push away from him, intending to get out of the bed.

"Stay," he barks, the tone reminiscent of the man you just thought lost. Yoongi grips your ankles and pulls them until you're laying flat on your back before him. Like donning a mask, the vulnerability and anguish from before are covered with cold indifference. Oddly, he leans back and casts a glance over his shoulder, his head angled like he's glancing into the far corner of the room. He brings his attention back to you and sucks in a sharp breath that he lets ease out slowly. "Touch me," he offers, settling back on his heels between your spread thighs and gesturing down.

When you hesitate, he grabs up one of your hands and presses it to his half-hard length. A soft strangled sound leaves his chest and his lips twist up in what looks like disgust. Despite how much his face says he doesn't like it, he grows hard all the same. He's still guiding your hand, forcing your fingers to squeeze around him, to the point you're sure it's causing him pain. Is he punishing himself? The thought disappears just as quickly as it came, your focus being drawn to the fingers of Yoongi's free hand skirting up along your inner thigh. You've experienced so much whiplash within the span of the last few minutes that your body isn't even sure how to respond. There is no arousal, no tingling sensations or warm fuzzies. Just confusion. It's even more confusing when Yoongi presses two fingers just mid-knuckle deep into you, gives them a small circling, then withdraws them and rubs his fingers on the sheets just below your ass.

He's suddenly pulling your hand away and dropping his weight onto you, propping up on an elbow and fitting his hips between your thighs. "Yoongi, wait, I'm not ready. Please, kiss me or something," you mumble, your hands skirting over his arms and pressing against his chest. He doesn't move, or speak, he just grabs a handful of the sheets and pulls them up over his own hips, covering you both from the waist down. His breath shudders from his chest, his hand that's still between your bodies hooks under your knee and lifts your leg until your thigh practically rests on your stomach. With more shifting of his hips, you mash your eyes closed and try to brace for what you know will come next, but they fly open in even more confusion. Instead of feeling his cock probing your sex, you feel the velvety skin slide along your thigh before lodging itself in the gap between your thigh and stomach. "What are you-?" His hand clamps over your mouth, effectively silencing your confusion.

Yoongi leans in so close you feel his warm breath stir the hairs around your ear. "I said trust me." His hips subtly shift, rocking a little from side to side. He works his free hand from between your bodies and slides it under the pillow beneath your head. You can faintly make out the sound of something sliding against the sheets as he draws his hand back out. You're both breathing so loud, you're sure you would have missed it if it wasn't right by your head. Something cold presses against the underside of your thigh, surrounded by the warmth of Yoongi's hand, like he's palming something to your skin. "Do you know what this is?" he whispers, just as close as before. You focus on the feeling of it, the shape of it pressed into your skin. It almost feels like a...your eyes go wide and press back into the pillow until you can meet his gaze. His hand is still firmly pressed over your mouth so it's hard to shake your head, but you do vehemently. Not saying you don't know what it is, but saying please don't use it. Because you definitely know the elongated and rounded-edged feel of the hilt to his pocket knife. His hips pull back, you almost forgot the fact he had wedged his cock between your thigh and stomach, just a bit. He dips back down until his lips brush your ear, then simultaneously he removes his hand from over your mouth, clicks the button to extend the blade on his knife, and whispers, "scream for me," as he snaps his hips forward.

Shock, confusion, fear. One of those drives the sound from your throat, a shrill screech rending the air. It's like you're watching everything happen from across the room, it's so surreal. It takes you a moment to realize the blade of the knife is only pressed flat-edge down against your thigh instead of piercing your skin. To add even more to the odd sensations, his cock is moving against your stomach and thigh, his hips working like he's fucking. "What the fuck?"

"Shut up," he snaps into your ear with a low hiss. "Make it believable, they have to believe it. Spit in your hand and help me out," his voice turns into a soft plea, breaths panting between his words into your ear. Rearing back just a fraction, putting about an inch between your bodies, he gives you a look to accompany his plea. It's the softness in his eyes, the way his lips are slightly parted, and the pinch between his brows.

You find yourself spitting into your palm and sliding it between your bodies to grip his length. He pumps a few times, letting you work the moisture into his length before he grunts and jerks his chin up like he's dismissing your hand. None of this makes any sense, but the more that happens, the more the pieces start to fall into place. He's faking this. For some reason unknown to you, he's faking it...and he wants, no-...needs, you to play along. They have to believe it? His words from a moment ago are just now registering. "Yoongi?" His name comes out on a rasp as your eyes frantically flick around the room. Did someone come in while you weren't paying attention?

The hand that was covering your mouth slips into your hair and pulls your attention back to him. "Stay with me, princess, focus on me." He nods, eyes open and pleading for your understanding. You only manage a small, almost imperceptible nod. Relief flicks across his features before they morph back into a careful mask of indifference. He turns his head to the side, his chin dipping down to his shoulder like he's looking back toward the other side of the room again.

It becomes sort of a dance, a mockery of intimacy. Each time his hips snap forward, shoving his length between your thigh and stomach you feign pain, crying out or thrashing under him. He grunts out his own displeasure, calling you names and even going so far as to place his hand around your throat though he doesn't apply any pressure. The knife is still pressed against your thigh, a small reminder that anytime you need it, he can still hurt you, that maybe he still intends to. It's hard to think he's capable, considering what he's doing...faking this.

You rewet him a few times, trying to help ease the pass of his cock against your skin. All thoughts of arousal for you have gone out the window, you're solely focused on keeping up this illusion for however long is needed. You wish you knew what was going on, why the need for the theatrics. Wouldn't it have just been easier to do the real thing? You're trying to reason out the possibilities when there is a shift in Yoongi's demeanor. His eyes are shuttered closed, brow pinched tight, and his hips are losing their rhythm. "Please," you plead in a faux attempt to stop him, but you tighten the space he's pistoning into instead, encouraging him with your body.

"One more scream, princess," he grunts into the side of your neck. You can feel slick sweat from his forehead smearing onto your shoulder as he tilts his head down, bowing his body. You open your mouth to give him your best impression of a fearful yelp but it turns into a full-blown tearful bellow as he presses the tip of the knife against your thigh. It's just a small prick, but it stings. You grit your teeth and slap at his arm but you might as well be just a fly for as much as he pays attention to you.

The knife leaves your skin and you can feel a warm wetness bubble up. It's like a shock to the system, adrenaline pumps through your veins and you break out in a cold sweat. He actually cut you. You had thought the knife was just a pretense, something to get you to play along. A flare for the dramatic, sure, but you didn't honestly expect him to use it on you. He gives one last heaving grunt, his hips pulling back before another rush of warm wetness is on your body. You feel his fingers wipe across the small knick on your thigh before it smears across your core, mixing your blood with his cum. He had to fake it. The cold reality of that hits you like an ice block to the chest. The blood, the cum, it's all part of the act.

Yoongi finally heaves himself off your body, throwing back the blankets that were covering you. You catch the faintest glimmer of metal as he pushes the knife further under the blankets and out of sight. His gaze is locked between your thighs, drawing your own attention there. It's not as bad as you imagined in your head. There is far more cum than blood, just a soft swirl of pink and red. You can see that he rubbed it on himself, too, red dots his pelvis and pink-tinged moisture coats his now spent cock. You drop your knee, noticing the subtle chaffing blush on your skin where he fucked it.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think the sight between the two of you represents what you'd have expected it to be. But, it's not. For a reason still unknown to you. A reason you'll soon know, you'll demand it. He said he would explain and you're not going to let him go without doing so. "What-?" For what seems like the hundredth time tonight, he cuts off your questioning. All he does is raise his hand, palm out toward you, in a request of silence.

"Get cleaned up," he says to you, rolling his shoulders back. As he shifts his weight to throw a leg over your hips so he can roll out of the bed, he leans forward and whispers, "meet me out by the river." He's already sliding off the bed by the time his words truly register.

Yoongi grabs his jeans and pauses for a moment, glancing toward the far side of the room, then disappears into the bathroom. A moment later he's walking out, jeans on and snagging his sweater off the floor before exiting the room. You're left there, in a growing pool of wetness as the cum and blood mixture drips down your ass and onto the sheets.

Mind still reeling, you make your own way out of the bed, snatch up your clothes, and head into the bathroom to clean up. There is a small first-aid kit and fresh washcloth sitting on the sink. There is an already wet cloth discarded into the wicker hamper beside the sink. You clean up in a daze. Those puzzle pieces that were falling into place don't seem to fit nearly as nicely as you were starting to think. There is an ugly truth being revealed here, one you're not sure you want to know. The small cut on your thigh is mostly superficial, like Yoongi's intention was only to draw the smallest amount of blood that he could. It hardly requires a bandaid, having already clotted. You add a small one just for good measure, not wanting your jeans to scratch and irritate it.

By the time you exit the bathroom, Wenton is in the room, stripping the sheets from the bed. "Oh, shit!" You jump back in surprise, not expecting to see anyone, much less him, standing there.

"Sorry, Miss," he mutters, continuing with his task. "Just going to change the linens for you."

A queasiness settles into your stomach thinking about what's on those sheets. For a moment you think about the pocketknife. You step forward, intent on telling Wenton to watch himself, but you catch a glint of metal out of the corner of your eye and see the knife sitting on the bedside table like it was never anywhere else to begin with.

You can't make it out of the room fast enough. Flying down the stairs, you make a beeline for the mudroom and door to the patio out back. Cold air slaps you across the face, helping to cool your heated cheeks. You hadn't realized how flustered seeing Wenton wadding up the soiled sheets made you until now.

There is a winding stone path that leads down to the river. This stretch of the water is wide, serene as it meanders through the mountain. Yoongi has told you many stories about this cabin, about how all the boys would dare one another to swim across. The river isn't very dangerous here, but you know just down the way and around a bend it turns into rushing rapids that bleed into several rocky waterfalls. If you listen closely, you can hear the rush of water over stone in the distance, like a hushed whisper of darkness.

With no city lights nearby, the light pollution is next to nonexistent, leaving the stars and fat, near-full moon to shine brightly overhead. You catch the silhouette of Yoongi against the shine of the moon on the water. His back is to you as you approach the end of the stone path.

He turns toward you, waiting until you're right in front of him before he reaches out and begins to pat down your pockets.

"What are you doing?" You try to take a step back but he snags a hand in your sweater, stopping you from retreating.

"Your phone, it's inside?" he asks, bringing his eyes up to yours. You give a nod and he finally releases you.

You do take a step back now, putting a bit more space between the two of you. "Now, are you going to explain?"

He takes a deep, slow breath. "First, I want to apologize," his voice is soft but carries over the softer burbling from the water just a few feet away. He crosses his arms over his chest, his face unreadable in the dim light. "Second, I want to thank you for going along with...that," he flicks his fingers back towards the house before shoving them back into the crook of his elbow.

"What exactly was that?" you push, mirroring his cross-armed stance. Yoongi opens his mouth to speak but then his teeth click shut and his lips form a thin line. "No, you don't get to shut me out this time, Yoongi. Fucking. Speak. Now."

He lets out a frustrated grunt, his arms unfolding so he can mash the heels of his palms against his eyes. He grinds them before his hands slide down his face like he's trying to wipe away his stubborn hesitancy.

"There are things, big things, that you have no idea about," he begins. "Things that are bigger than both you and I. This," he gestures between the two of you, "is just a small piece of a much bigger, and darker picture. What I did in there, what we did in there, was for you."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Keep going."

"We're married, it's what's expected...it's what they expect to happen, regardless of whether or not you want it. I've done nothing but fight on your behalf the last year. Relentlessly working toward a way to make things different. But, my hands are tied, have been tied...by that bastard." Yoongi begins to pace, shoving his hands in his pockets. "There are cameras everywhere, tracking devices, your phone," he gives you a quick glance before resuming his pacing, "we're both being watched. If I didn't make it seem like it happened, then we'd both be in big trouble."

"Why fake it? Why not just do it?" He's still not giving you the answers you need, he's holding back.

His face is pinched when he looks back at you. "I didn't want your first time to be like that," he whispers. "I couldn't take that from you, not like that."

"I don't understand."

Yoongi huffs another sigh. "I'm going to start from the beginning, I'll try to explain the best I can, okay?" You nod, relaxing back on the heels of your boots. "I never expected to have a happy or love-filled marriage, that's just not part of the deal when it comes to these things, right? But, I did try, in the beginning...and after a while, I started to care about you. Then...Namjoon came back from that assignment in Tokyo and everything changed."

The fact he's bringing up Namjoon throws up a red flag for you. "What does Namjoon have to do with this?"

"Everything." The word is so quiet you barely catch it. "He has everything to do with this. He's the one watching, he's the one that Wenton has been instructed to send our bedsheets to for testing, he's the one that forced me to be a monster to you, he's the one who has threatened your life if I don't make it a living hell," he finishes on a whisper, his voice thick with emotion.

Each new revelation is like a punch to the gut. "But why?" you sputter. What the actual fuck? You know Namjoon is an evil man, but what on earth did you do to earn his scorn to the point of death?

"It's not you, not really." Yoongi stops his pacing and comes to stand before you. He untangles your arms and clasps your hands in his. "While Namjoon was in Tokyo he found out something, something that derailed him." There is a sadness in his eyes as he continues, "What I'm about to tell you won't make you happy, but please know that it's true and I have proof if you need it."

He waits for you to acknowledge his words. "Okay," you agree, chewing your bottom lip, suddenly filled with trepidation.

"Your father is the reason our mother died."

Air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Please, I said it wouldn't make you happy, but you need to trust me. You wanted an explanation, this is it." His tongue darts out and wets his lips. "My mom was in love with your dad before she was forced into an arranged marriage with my father. They couldn't have children of their own, so that's why they adopted. She was always so happy on the outside, full of laughter and smiles. We lost her seven years ago. Father said it was an accident, she slipped and fell down the stairs. We were all away, either in school or working. We never got to see her body, just the blood in the foyer before it was cleaned up."

"They were in love at one point. So what? All of this just sounds like an excuse for you and your family to do shitty things."

Yoongi gives your hands, still held in his, a small squeeze. "Just, let me explain. They continued to see one another even after they both married. Your mother was just as unaware as my father, at least, as far as I know, she was. When Namjoon was in Tokyo, he came across some old files that had my mom's name on them. Her death nearly destroyed him, what he found was the last straw needed. The files lead to a small apartment, old and abandoned. It was filled with some of her things, bottles of her perfume, along with men's cologne and suits. Tucked away in a small box were two letters. One was a suicide letter, addressed to your father. The writing is unmistakably my mother's. The other was a letter signed by your father to our mother, essentially ending their near twenty-year tryst. My mother was heartbroken, so she took her own life."

A shiver runs through you, one not from the cold air seeping beneath your sweater. "I don't know what to say," you whisper, blinking back the emotion threatening your lash line. It's the whiplash from the bedroom all over again. He's treated you so horribly over the last year, all for what? Because Namjoon is holding some sort of grudge for something you had no part in...is that really a good enough reason? Part of you is melting with sympathy, begging your mind to wrap around this as an act of kindness; the lesser of two evils. But, another part of you is disgusted and outraged that Yoongi didn't bring this to your attention much sooner. Instead of making you aware of what was happening and making a plan with you, Yoongi took it upon himself to play into Namjoon's hands, let his strings be pulled, and turn him into a macabre puppet of some kind. "Did the proposal even have anything to do with how you've acted? Or was that just a coincidence?"

"That was me...all me. I thought I could use that as a way to get you out, a way to speed up the process. I thought, maybe if you said yes and had shown a desire to get married sooner, then dad would have allowed it and we would have been out of the house and away from Namjoon, giving me more space to be able to come up with a better plan. The anger from your denial was real, that was me...acting like an insensitive jerk being rejected by the pretty girl." He at least looks ashamed, the way his cheeks pink a little and his brow scrunches. "I never should have taken my frustrations out on you, but it made the transition into my compromise with Namjoon seem authentic on the outside. Everyone thought I was lashing out because of that, so no one suspected anything different."

"So, no one else knows...about any of this?"

"No one. Wenton knows a little, he knows he needs to do what Namjoon requests, but no more than that. My father doesn't know, won't know. Namjoon doesn't want him to know because he's worried he'll take matters into his own hands in regards to you. He came directly to me. He wanted to take you away, make you suffer for what your father did. I tried to make him see reason, that the sins of the father couldn't be blamed on the daughter. He wouldn't listen, so I finally compromised with him. I agreed to make your life a living hell, make you suffer, as long as he kept away. The more I push you, the more I hurt you, the more satisfied he is with keeping you alive...if only to see you hurt more. I've tried everything, ignoring you, leaving you for weeks on end, but every time I was gone for too long or spent too many days letting you live in peace, he'd swoop in and remind me of his threat," his voice breaks. "I've spent the last year protecting you from a different kind of evil...but, I don't know how much more I can take. I don't know how many more days I can look into your eyes and see hate staring back at me. So, I've been working on a plan to get you away from here...to finally set you free."

Freedom. Is that even possible? For that matter, is Yoongi even telling the truth?

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to chapter list

◅ Back to Master List ©️ 2022-08-30 ColorMePurplex2

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ayatoscupid · 1 year

Text

i just want you, i need you

cupid x a.yato | 1.4k words | established, romantic, post-wedding

note: written to rock with you | moodboard + playlist | proposal

a/n: aaaaaaa!!! the day's arrived!! we're finally married! crying sobbing i love him so much....... he's really my #1 i love him and writing this made me so happy!! enjoy!

“Ah—are you sure it’s safe here?”

In the quieter parts of N.arukami Island, far from the city and the estate, there’s a cliff decorated with hydrangea bushes. A large emperor oak tree’s leaves billow out over the flowers, but they do nothing to hide the moonlight, illuminating the quiet hill with blue, white and purple. Almost like a reflection of the night sky above them.

Or maybe like the shimmer in A.yato’s eyes, Cupid thinks, when the man looks at him with slight apprehension and a worried little smile.

Cupid laughs at the adorable look on his newly-wedded husband’s face and nods in reassurance, holding his hand out to take Ayato’s and further tug him up the hill. “Yeah, I’ve been here plenty of times! Come on~”

“And you never thought to take me here? Ouch, honey.”

“That’s because this place is meant to be a secret.” Cupid answers, easily brushing off the fake look of hurt Ayato tries to tease him with. He should know his acting doesn’t work on him anymore. “I know if I took you here any other time, you’d bring bodyguards and everything.”

“Hm… you have a point.” Ayato concedes, interlacing his fingers with Cupid’s as he keeps up with his pace up the hill. “So why take me here now?”

“Because I know no one would be following us tonight.” Cupid turns around to hold both of his hands, his grin rivaling the stars. “We just got married, after all. Newlyweds deserve a bit of privacy after their wedding.”

Ayato shares the same sentiment, of course, which is why Cupid’s instincts were right. It’s just the two of them tonight, accompanied by the hydrangeas and the moon. Ayato made sure to tell the Shuumatsuban to give them privacy on their honeymoon—they’re both perfectly capable of defending themselves, after all. That, and Ayato can’t help but hold dear these moments Cupid feels truly relaxed, like he can be whoever he wants to be. Ayato knows how rare these moments are, and if he had a Kamera, he’d take a picture of it to keep to himself forever—to remind himself what to keep fighting for.

“Do you come here to relax?” Ayato asks once they’re under the oak tree, and from here, he can see the sea stretch out in front of them. Maybe if he squints, he’ll be able to see the lights of Liyue Harbour.

“Ehe… kind of.” Cupid laughs sheepishly, smoothing his hands over his reception dress. “...I come here to scream.”

Ayato whips his head towards his husband. “What?”

“You should try it!” Cupid grins, a sudden burst of energy as he bounces on his toes. “You’re always so tense and everything, y’know? Whenever I feel myself getting really tense, I take an afternoon off to come here and just yell it all out. Nobody can really hear me, except for the birds and crystalflies. And if someone does,” he shrugs, “at least they’re kind enough to not say anything about it.”

It’s not like Ayato’s never heard of yelling as a stress relief technique before. Ayaka used to scream in her pillow as a kid. But he’d never thought to do that himself—just a few deep breaths is enough for him to relax in that moment.

“I don’t usually need to go to that extent to relax, I’m afraid. And besides,” he snakes an arm around Cupid and kisses his temple, smiling all fond at the way he leans into it, “Our wedding released all the stress I had built up in me.”

“Ah, so all that stress we went through planning it has completely dissolved?” Cupid giggles, looking up at Ayato with a raised eyebrow. “Let’s not forget all the rumour mills upon announcing our engagement.”

“You know those things don’t—” Cupid feels Ayato’s grip on his waist tighten, by just a fraction, and has to hold back his doting little smile when the other sighs. “...Maybe they did bother me a little.”

“A little? I heard from one of the ninjas that you threatened an official when they said weird things about me.”

“How could I not? It frustrates me to no end when people think they can decide what I should do with my life.” Ayato scoffs, heaving another sigh before gently grabbing Cupid’s waist and turning him to face him. His smile returns when he reaches up to cup his cheeks to find them rapidly warming up. Summer nights in Inazuma can get quite chilly, especially this close to the ocean, so he can’t use the heat as an excuse. He gently squishes Cupid’s cheeks, laughing softly when he makes a little noise of protest. “See, how could I not marry you?”

Cupid opens and closes his mouth for a few moments, cheeks getting warmer against Ayato’s palms the longer he tries to think of an answer. Instead, he simply huffs and takes Ayato’s hands off his cheeks, intertwining them with his own. His sunny smile is back on his lips as he takes a step back and guides Ayato’s hand to his waist, his own sliding up to his shoulder. “Okay, if you don’t feel like yelling your frustrations out, then may I have this dance?”

Ayato laughs, and back then he would’ve been less enthusiastic about dancing—he was never the biggest fan of it, and growing up he found it an unnecessary way to exchange pleasantries at parties. Especially whenever he was forced to dance with the officials’ children who clearly did not want to be there either.

But how could he not fall in love with dancing after meeting Cupid, and seeing him sway in the kitchen to a song stuck in his head in early mornings? How could he not dance along then, when he’s found peace in the way Cupid always tilts his head back to laugh before pulling him in for a lively jive?

They already danced at the wedding reception, a romantic waltz that had everyone’s eyes on them, every heart in the room melting at the sight of two people so in love, so hopelessly devoted to each other.

“Why, of course.” Ayato takes a step back, a glint in his eyes before he lets go of Cupid’s waist to twirl him, delighting in the surprised laugh he lets out. This time, their dance is lively. Free of worries, an energetic sway under the oak and within the hydrangea, the sea and stars and moon their only audience. They dance to the rhythm of their own heartbeats, quick and in sync, fluttering every time their eyes meet. The sparkle of the wedding bands on their fingers could make their way to the stars and blend right in.

“You know what?” Ayato pants as he pulls Cupid in by the waist, an uncontrollable glimmer in his eyes, so bright Cupid can see beyond the sky with them. “Maybe I do need to scream. Just once.”

“Really?” Cupid tilts his head back to laugh before taking a step back and gesturing to the waves splashing against the earth beneath them, almost as if telling him that they’re listening. “Go ahead!”

Ayato takes a deep breath, but it does nothing to slow the tempo of his heartbeat, a quickstep dance in his veins as he looks at Cupid for a few more moments. He takes in his beauty, and wonders if he saved the world in his past life to deserve a love like his. In the end, it doesn’t matter—all he knows is he’s never going to take it for granted for the rest of his life.

He turns to the sea and spreads his arms out, and his voice rings out louder than the roaring waves when he yells with abandon, at the top of his lungs, “I love my husband!”

Cupid almost laughs—he almost does, but the air leaves his lungs upon the rare sight of Ayato so carefree, so serene and comfortable. He looks beautiful like this. How could he not fall in love with him?

So he moves closer instead, arms sliding around Ayato’s neck to tug him down with a giggle. He finds his lips easily, his heart doing a quickstep when he feels Ayato smile into the kiss. His confession is softer, swayed into the oak tree and falling into the hydrangeas. He falls with it, over and over again, pulled into Ayato’s embrace like the waves of the cooling sea. “I’ll love you forever.”

#selfship #self ship #selfship wedding #f/o community #marriage tw #just in case!!#💘.writing #♡ hopelessly devoted #ok2rb

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newobsessioneveryweek · 7 months

Note

Oo what is business as usual and sex, drugs, rock and roll 👀👀👀👀

I'm so glad you asked!

Here is an excerpt of Business As Usual for your viewing pleasure (unfortunately I haven't actually written anything for SD&RnR but I'll explain a little bit of what I'm thinking)

Excerpt start

“What are you reading?” came a sudden, soft voice. Loki turned to meet Hogun’s passive face. He was riding beside him. If he had been there the whole time Loki hadn’t noticed.

“Shapeshifting and Illusions,” he replied cooly, banishing the book to his pocket dimension. Hogun’s sudden interest was not unwelcome, just odd- his choosing to talk even odder. “Have you read it?” Loki asked dumbly. He would bet good money that no one in this group had ever glanced at let alone picked up a spell book, especially one that was meant to be locked away in Odin’s library, never to be seen or read.

“No,” Hogun said simply. He looked forward, wrinkling his nose at the conversation happening around them. Loki took note of the odd way he seemed both fond and exasperated. “But tell me about it. I doubt it’s worse than this,” he nudged his chin to where Thor and Volstagg continued to entertain Fandral with questions and comments while Sif listened disinterestedly.

Loki tried to quell a stab of disappointment. Of course, there was only personal gain to be thought of instead of genuine interest. But he indulged him nonetheless. “As the title so deftly put,” he deadpanned, “it’s a spell book on shapeshifting and illusions.”

“I gauged that,” Hogun said dryly. “Tell me more.”

What more was there to tell that he would be receptive to? “Well,” he thought, “contrary to popular belief, illusionary magic is intermediate at best, but often child’s play. I caught on to it quite quickly in my hundreds. However,” Loki paused, drawing in a tired breath, “shapeshifting is an advanced art, one that presents potential… complications if done incorrectly.”

Hogun hummed quietly. There was a beat of silence before he asked, “What would you deem advanced?” His head tilted a fraction as though he were actually intrigued.

“To put it in terms you would understand, it’s the equivalent of shooting a running target in the head from one hundred metres away on horseback.”

Hogun whistled lowly. “Have you ever tried?”

“Tried what?”

“Shapeshifting.”

Despite himself, Loki laughed. Hogun flinched but his expression remained impassive. “Yes,” he confessed, holding back a sudden tidal wave of emotion and the urge to end the conversation at its zenith.

“Why?”

Why? Loki wanted to scream. He let the question marinate in the awkward silence it caused. He drew in a breath, held it, and exhaled at length. “Because desperate people do desperate things.”

Excerpt end

I might change some things about this wip. In my defense I wrote it months ago. But I hope it's got you hyped!

Here's a bonus because I couldn't resist! I can't keep it to myself🙈

Bonus!

“Curious,” he said, holding the bottle up to the light.

Loki rolled his eyes affectionately. “What is?”

“Red is my colour.”

“And?”

“Then by association, this potion must make you devilishly handsome like me. You could use some. I’ll buy it for you.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I would be offended if that wasn’t a lie.”

Bonus end!

Now, SD&RnR doesn't reeeaaallly have a plot rn. I just thought it would be neat to explore Apollo's past of "living life to the fullest" in a protective bubble of perfection and indifference. The title is meant to allude to impulsive grabs for satisfaction and surface level pleasure that doesn't really treat the deeper parts of one's longing and desire (such as that of wanting to be accepted and understood by your family for instance).

So yeah, that's the idea behind it. I haven't written a word but it's coming! Bet your autumn harvest it'll be here!

Thank you this ask and for letting me talk about my babies☺️💛 you rock!

#Ask #thank you for indulging me #my fic #wip

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rise-my-angel · 9 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf has to be my favourite Robb Stark and Jon Snow piece of writing out there. Seriously, the way you capture both of their personalities is so untouchable that it’s ruined others writing for me. I would rather reread HOTGW over and over again then find something new with a mere fraction of what you have going with your story. It’s truly so beautiful, the way you blend beauty and sorrow so wonderfully. You don’t paint one brother to be worse than the other, that it’s just simply a girl with two loves who has lost too much in her life at such a young age. You are such a gifted writer 😭🫶🏼

This is too kind seriously..thats the end of the ask..I have nothing more to say whatsoever..

Their characterizations are the ones I worry the most about, especially now that I am into a post resurrection Jon having to juggle his true character contrasted to what i think resurrection would change about who he is inside. So I appreciate it because I am constantly terrified you guys are going to think I am way off the mark with these characters. I work a lot to think about what i think would realistically play out and why, and write within those in universe consistencies.

Robb was easier I think, since most Robb x Reader x Jon fics that have a Jon endgame, tend to paint Robb in a different light in order to boost the Jon pairing.

I too was going to underplay it. When this series was first being outlined Robb was way less important. He was more an obstacle to get to the plot I wanted, but the more I outlined the more I realized how unfair it would be to do that. Robb is so important to GoT/asoiaf, people seem to forget that when Robb died, the entire country fell into what was essentially a post apocalyptic state of fear. He died and all hope was shattered for the realm, and I think it does him a disservice to not give his relationship that fair treatment. He is smart, and emotional and deeply caring of his people and cause and I wanted to rectify what I thought was an insulting love interest for him in the show. Give him a relationship with the reader, that was real.

Were Robb not to die, they'd still be together. Regardless if Jon was in the plot now or not, Robb and the reader were real and they loved each other with everything they. It's partially why I made the reader spend three years not talking about Jon. Beacuse she didn't want to risk letting him dominate her thoughts with her husband and its tragic beacuse its in chapter 11 'What Lies Beyond the Veil' when she finally has come to accept she can talk about the man she always loved normally with the man she grew to love and not feel guilt, and its the last time. I wrote that entire wedding reception from Robb's point of view beacuse I didn't want any mention of Jon to make it seem like the reader was thinking of him when she died, when no, their deaths were entirely about each other.

It's also why Jon never thought much about Robb in his pre 'What Lies Beyond the Veil' pov's beacuse I never wanted to give off the impression that his jealousy was out of malice. I never wanted it to be Jon feeling like it was him versus his brother. It was just the cards you three were dealt and as much as it burns him to be the one left in the cold he knows that no one actually chose to leave him behind, it was just how it worked out.

I just don't like fics where it's this kind of double pairing, but Robb doesn't feel like he was given a fair chance. A lot tends to feel like I'm just waiting for the Red Wedding to get to the Jon stuff that they want to do instead, when I was dreading getting to it in mine beacuse I didn't want the Robb saga to end yet. I sort of allude to this when Ned said in the first chapter,

"Just because losing Jon hurts, doesn't mean I don't think you aren't willing to love Robb."

And that's the essence of the double pairing, I hated the idea of one brother being seen as the more important relationship then the other, Robb died in chapter 11 by chapter 29 I'm still writing scenes about losing Robb, beacuse it felt disingenuous to paint one brother as the better pairing for the reader then the other. I didn't like the idea of a double pairing being about Jon versus Robb or vice versa.

Just the story of what happens, when your love finds itself equally.

#the orignal outline for chapter 1 had so much more jon but i changed a lot of that to be in flashbacks of later chapters #it needed to be about robb beacuse thats the life you were going to be in and i never wanted Robb to feel like the disposable love interest #and i ended up liking it better with a much bigger robb focus #i knew jon was the slow burn he was always going to get his day in court but robb was the one here and now and i refused to underplay that #i just hope you dont disagree with my characterization of Jon the futher we go #since post ressurection Jon isnt quite the same man as he was before #and I hope I am decent enough to convey my ideas in a realistic manner or that my ideas arent super out of character in general #long post

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noa-ciharu · 2 years

Note

72 for Seisub or Subkam (pick your pick) 😈

Both. At same time. Since I did buncha Subkam prompts before but never actually got Seisub one I'll go with Seisub here. Also prompt itself just screams TB!Subaru so...

NSFW so under-cut. Around 6.1k long. Yep once more I went off the rails. Set in TB timeline, morning after Subaru stayed over at Seishirou's place in that one chap. If people like it I might put it on ao3 bc of length (I mean, it's not a prompt anymore, it's a full fic).

72 - "There is no way anyone is that innocent"

“Subaru-kun, are you awake?”

No answer. Seishirou mentally counted to five seconds before knocking on door again; was met with silence. Actually no, soft rustle of sheets could be discerned from the other side; barely audible, if it weren’t for sharpness of his predatory senses he probably wouldn’t have picked it up. Looks like his prey was awake but for some reason ignored him. Atypical of epitome of kindness that Subaru represented; precisely that aberrancy whetted his appetite.

Without any further announcement Seishirou opened the door and stepped in. Not like he was trespassing, it was his own bedroom after all. Subaru dropped by last night, wet and drenched in own misery; only reasonable he stayed over. Not to dance around the topic – temptation of previous once-in-lifetime night was high. Desire to burst through door, corner Subaru and taint that purity of his; beyond salacious to finally have a taste of what was so close, by all means belonged to him, yet was still out of reach. Howbeit, Bet rules stood tall, he wasn’t to upset or hurt Subaru in any manner for a whole year; after last day ticked by, whole different kettle of fish. For now on, hands were tied; he was allowed to move forward as much as Subaru yielded backwards.

Per expected Subaru was awake. Lounged propped against headboard, one gloved hand underneath sheets, other griping them from above; flushed face raised and emerald eyes met his. Same instant pupils dilated, breath fell short. Ah, he caught Subaru off guard, didn’t he? With disheveled appearance, flustered expression and gaze akin to deer getting caught in headlights, there was no mistaking what this was all about. You might behave like personification of a martyr but your body is still human. Although I wonder how receptive you are to that. Predatory smirk crept up lips, it took Seishirou a moment to realize he should conceal it; keep pretense of clueless vet up and drag wool of false sense of security down Subaru’s eyes. Nothing new, he was on a roll with that one.

Subaru parted lips as to speak. Seishirou beat him up to it - “Good morning Subaru-kun, have you slept well?”

He made sure to keep voice light, not betrayal a fraction of lascivious thoughts or ulterior motives. Seishirou took a step forward; footsteps of slippers echoed over laminate. Subaru tensed further; gaze fanatically wandered around room, settled anywhere but on his face; telltale Subaru had something he wished to hide. Abashed to look directly into his eyes it seems; briefly Seishirou wondered how Subaru would react to his stare if he weren’t concealing predatory eyes behind glasses. Not that Subaru didn’t have reasons for being bashful and alarmed, quite the contrary. Seishirou was in two minds whether to conform to Bet rules, play role of considerate suitor and offer Subaru privacy to take care of his need; or to give in to temptation, use Subaru’s naivety and inexperience and try to normalize situation to Subaru later on, hoping he’ll buy it. Still, better to think before he leaps so Seishirou settled on testing the waters first.

Closing distance Seishirou sat on mattress; seeing as it was single bed, only few inches stretched between them. That snapped Subaru out of his, probably, lust diffident daze.

“Good m-morning Seishirou-san. Ah, y-yes I have!”, he rushed out, voice too high and panicky. Absurd how much effort Subaru put into concealing emotions and thoughts yet was an open book; no need for words, those unguarded eyes spoke volumes about inner state of mind and heart.

Seishirou’s gaze dropped from flustered face down Subaru’s body; pity borrowed pyjamas were sizes too big, concealed slender body from his starved stare. Grip over sheets tautened; privately Seishirou gloated how Subaru kept those gloves on even while sleeping. Pointless Subaru-kun, they won’t prevent wolf in sheep clothing from getting within walls when you willingly open door to him. Other hand was hidden from view under sheets; Seishirou wondered if Subaru was trying to get himself off and was caught red handed or simply gripped himself in fruitless attempt to dampen down state of arousal.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” , Seishirou hushed in concerned tone, leaned into Subaru’s personal space. He didn’t protest, just blush further; promising. Going a step further Seishirou decided to test his luck; putting palms on both sides of Subaru’s body, successfully trapping him; he allowed that too. His natural instinct was to yield instead of fight for freedom, that boded well for rest of Seishirou’s nearly not innocent agenda.

Seishirou let eyes loam over Subaru’s concealed body, stare uninhibited, concealing none of prurient desires. Then added in octave lower - “You seem… stimulated”

Subaru shuddered and looked aside; given how intensely he blushed, a minor miracle he didn’t pass out. “I’m not sure why but…”, Subaru began hesitantly, voice shy away from whisper.

Gradually Subaru raised gaze so their eyes met. So innocent, so desirable, Seishirou wanted to rip him apart. Parting lips, he added timidly- “My body feels a bit… weird”

Before he was conscious of own actions, Seishirou let out a sardonic chuckle. Doe eyes widened Subaru whole demeanor screamed petrified. Perhaps praying he would let matter slide and not pry any further into private business; if so Subaru ought to stop counting his blessings for Subaru’s business was his business during Bet year. He’ll shatter that childhood innocence, one way or another; now or when final day of borrowed time arrived.

Seishirou let few moments tick by in tense silence. Then gripped edge of sheet and countered - “There’s no way anyone is that innocent”

The moment words left lips he abruptly lifted sheet up and shoved it down Subaru’s legs. He yelped, lowered head so bangs would cover red face and snapped legs shut, tried to hide more than obvious bulge in pyjamas pants. As suspected, Subaru kept hand over groin; as it was over two layers of clothing instead over skin, Seishirou assumed in attempt to calm erection down. The moment he detected where Seishirou’s gaze was he gasped and moved hand to thigh. Nonetheless, even light cupping had to sent sparks through system, no way Subaru was blind to pleasure it caused. Really, was it possible for sixteen year old boy to never have been hard before? Lustful thoughts and conscious carnal desire were one thing, story of Subaru never experiencing those he could buy (but with shadow of doubt). One of not knowing what being erected meant or how it felt, not so much.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of Subaru-kun”, Seishirou uttered, patted Subaru’s hair in consoling matter; tried to soother him for mutual benefit. “That’s a natural thing. You can’t control it”

Seishirou scooted closer, with comforting petting coaxed Subaru into gazing up. Flushed expression and innocent fearful eyes caused his own groin to stir.

“But it is embarrassing!”, Subaru yelped.

He tried to tear gaze away but Seishirou bolted hand down from hair to chin and help him in place. Bold of you to assume I’ll let you hide from me. Briefly Seishirou wondered whether he stepped over line of considerate and kind vet persona; seeing as Subaru didn’t comment on slight yet palpable shift of atmosphere, decided to let it slide; only felt encouraged to try his luck further.

“I’m sorry for creating such awkward situation”, Subaru apologized shyly.

Very typical of Subaru to apologize for things that aren’t really in his control; inane seeing as if Seishirou found situation inconvenient he would have offered Subaru privacy long ago. So unsuspecting, Subaru really couldn’t gasp he was being preyed upon. Perhaps it was just said gullibility that flared up desire; made it more salacious.

“Awkward? Not a bit”

Seishirou seized the opportunity; pried Subaru’s legs open with own and cupped him through pyjamas bottom. Subaru’s pupils dilated, furious blush spread over cheeks; startled gasp followed by a whimper, but Subaru didn’t protest. Not at all.

Interesting. Not to mention promisi – no, guaranteeing.

In beginning of this little fake courtship of theirs was painfully one-sided; Subaru even went as far to reject his advances. Nowadays however, he passively accepted but considering who they’re talking about, that alone spoke volumes (just like spending a night at his apartment without batting an eyelid). Still, Seishirou doubted Subaru is ready to go all the way, even an amateurish return of a handhold would be on thin ice. He could reap rewards of months of laborious pretense but not only would it violate Bet rules but also spoil salacity of whole experience; way sweeter victory would be Subaru submitting and allowing to be tasted on his own. For that fever dream to become reality, Seishirou knew he had to thread carefully; push Subaru’s boundaries so subtly he won’t even notice they’re being tampered with in the first place. If he played cards right, only tension lingering between them from now on would be of sexual nature; only one Subaru would be aware of however.

For those reason Seishirou didn’t immediately proceed with scheming; leaned over Subaru and wordlessly gazed right into his eyes. Audibly swallowing, Subaru appeared in disarray; was equally trepid and yearning. Seishirou could hear how ferociously his heart was pumping; will be only for few months more, seeing his own heart wasn’t moved at all, not even by epitome of kindness and inner beauty. I can taint your white as virgin snow soul effortlessly but no matter how hard you tried you can’t purify my indifference and emotionless. Still, love and sexual desire were two separate things; boy was ethereally beautiful, Seishirou accepted physical attraction moons ago. Only natural he craved a taste of what was marked as his.

Subaru remained motionless for few seconds more; then finally nodded affirmatively. There was no withholding that smirk.

“Good”, Seishirou purred and gave him a tender stroke over pyjamas.

Subaru snapped eyes shut and whimpered; reflexively tried to snap legs shut but Seishirou’s leg didn’t allow him. By all indications uncharted territory for him, Seishirou realized. Was it really possible for someone to be so innocent? Of no account, he won’t stay that way for too long. Resting palm over outline of Subaru’s erection, Seishirou gently squeezed him, then began moving hand up and down just barely; far cry of how proper strokes ought to look like but this was about testing the waters. It’ll serve no purpose of being too brisk with his prey now, better offer false sense of security via equally fake consideration. Subaru scooted back against headboard; Seishirou leaned over him and rested free hand next to Subaru’s head, successfully cornering him. Then settled on observing Subaru’s reactions.

Eyes forcefully snapped shut, disheveled bed-hair framing flushed face, lips quivering – extremely appealing sight, Seishirou licked lower lip in anticipation. Beside gasping slightly, he tried to keep motionless; buckled up into hand then forced himself still, almost as if believing urgency of own arousal was a sin. So inexperienced, Seishirou had qualms about Subaru taking care of physical needs before. Those soft whimpers went down to his groin, Seishirou felt heat pool there; no matter, this wasn’t time to think about own physical needs. Nonetheless, Subaru was too quiet for his liking; timidness and unobtrusiveness trait of his, look like they exhibited even during not so decent actions. Still, Seishirou wasn’t a man who’ll settle for mediocrity, he’ll push Subaru’s buttons just to get thrill of breaking his repressive barrier.

“Did you have a nice dream Subaru-kun?”, Seishirou hushed, volume just low enough for implication to be unequivocal.

Same instant Subaru’s eyes flew open. “No!”, he yelped and blushed even brighter red.

Despite denial Subaru’s expressive reaction spoke volumes. He knew what nice dreams meant, implying he experienced them before; seeing as he had noone to hear about those normal teenager experiences from apart from twin sister (who was a female hence unlikely to lecture own brother on what to do with morning wood), only logical to assume Subaru had wet dreams before. He’ll get to the bottom of that intriguing enigma some other time around, when he didn’t have much more pressing issue at hand, quite literally.

“I j-just – ahhh!”, Subaru began with pointless explanations, Seishirou cut those excuses short by squeezing him rougher.

Finally proper moan broke out. Momentary Seishirou wanted to stroke him with more speed and ferocity but decided against it; being inexperienced and young as he was, no way Subaru would last more than a minute of proper jerking off. Subaru’s eyes widened when he realized what loose sound he let out; he put hand over mouth and looked to side bashfully. Adorable yes, but Seishirou would rather hear those signs of loosen inhibitions.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of”, Seishirou uttered and raised hand from Subaru’s crotch to hand he used to conceal moans and whimpers; grabbed it and held mid air.

“All men touch themselves when they get hard”, he added, stared at Subaru with hunter’s fixation.

“Even you?”, Subaru countered without missing a heartbeat. Ah, no way he was thinking that one through, only betrayed existence of deeply embedded not so innocent thoughts; no other plausible explanation for his intuitive response to be that.

Seishirou felt – no, let predatory smirk reach lips. Subaru would assume all of it was attributed to carnal cravings, therefore wouldn’t question true nature of his kind vet friend; if he’ll be able to consider them ‘friends’ after this little tryst. Subaru’s breath hitched up in throat, indication he understood what that dark smirk meant. Still, how to miss such salacious opportunity to push the limits? Abruptly Seishirou lowered Subaru’s palm down to tent in own trousers; feathery touch sent shivers down spine, even if through two layers of clothing. No mistaking how pupils dilated and startled gasp left lips; no way Subaru didn’t feel what sort of effect he left on him. In a heartbeat Subaru yanked hand back as if scorched. Oh well, of no significance if they couldn’t mutually get off now, he better play cards right now as to guarantee there will be next time. I’d rather have you fall into my arms believing it was completely out of free will.

Thanks to that abrupt movement caused Subaru’s back to slid down into lounging position. He gazed up with wide doe eyes; no matter how much innocence and trepidation were present in them, hints of desire were equally detectable. Deciding to try his luck another time, Seishirou pushed hand past pyjama’s elastic band and cupped Subaru through boxers.

“That’s – ahhh, oh gosh”, Subaru tried to protest but groaned instead.

Impulse kicked in it seems; high time Subaru gave into own humanity. Parting legs slightly he gave Seishirou opportunity to slide pyjamas pants down to knees; they could go further down but better not risk alarming his prey. Seishirou massaged him slowly via cotton white underwear, intook every breathless groan and vague moan; of course touch was more electrifying through one layer less. Also used opportunity of Subaru closing his eyes to intake enticing image in front of him; boy, indeed, was a feast for eyes. Pity borrowed pyjamas shirt covered most of slender frame; that will have to get off eventually.

Kneading halted. Seishirou glided fingertip over length, all the way to where tip ought to be, then pressed thumb over it. Damp splotch formed there immediately, Seishirou felt wetness on fingertip. Subaru’s hips thrust up; eyes flew up as he bolted back of hand up to mouth. Seishirou felt wave of ire wash by; they’ve been at if for no more than five minutes, he already took delight in witnessing Subaru’s reactions and expression. He won’t let what is marked as his hide from him, not now, not ever.

“Feels good right?”, Seishirou hushed, voice silken. After one particular intense press, Subaru let out a muffled moan and bit on black glove. Seishirou hummed inquisitively once more as he squeezed tip of Subaru’s cock through cotton. Mewling and squirming he nodded frantically. Good, Seishirou gloated internally. Reaching forwards and seized Subaru’s wrist.

“Don’t hide, I want to see everything”

Instead of lowering Subaru’s hand on sheets Seishirou raised it up to lips. Peck over back of hand, predatory grin concealed from view; within mind pentagrams flashed blood red. Subaru’s hand twitched as if he was stung, but he didn’t try to pull it back. Seishirou closed eyes and nuzzled cheek against back of hand; imagined how sweeter ripping those gloves and feeling skin that hasn’t been touched for eight years would be. Oh if only you were aware of reason you’re told to never take those gloves off, you won’t be gazing up at me so shyly, nor you’d treat me with same kindness you treat everyone else with. You’ll scrape for freedom, but once in lion’s den there’s no way out unscratched. Or at all. Opening eyes Seishirou saw Subaru smile meekly, completely unsuspecting of what seemingly tender gesture meant. Seishirou let another sadistic grin creep up lips. No need to jump the gun, Bet time was ticking; slowly by steadily. There will be time for shattering glass orb of illusionary innocence; for now on, he’ll have a taste what was marked as his many moons ago.

Another feathery caress, it caused Subaru to shiver. Seishirou held Subaru’s hand between their bodies. He waited till their eyes met, the asked - “How do you touch yourself with those gloves Subaru-kun?”

For nth time Subaru’s pupils dilated, startlement and abashment spelled in every inch of being. Speeding fingers in v-shape, Seishirou slid them down Subaru’s clothed erection; instant mewl followed by prolonged groan. So adorable, perhaps it was knowledge of Subaru’s general repression and naivety that spiced up ardency of sloppy hand-job. Even if he logically knew he couldn’t have it, Seishirou craved for more; both physically and mentally.

“What do you do when you wake up hard?”, he insisted, voice rougher this time around; gave Subaru few brisk strokes at same time, consideration and patience cast aside. Very vet persona-unlike, his real self-like; Subaru paid no heed to his brief character drop, only focused on inner state of shame and outer of ecstasy.

“I… ahhh, t-take a cold sh-shower”, Subaru moaned as he writhing underneath him.

In all candidness, admission did take Seishirou by surprise. First and foremost, he expected Subaru to blush, divert gaze and deny having that experience before; as it seemed, he was trusted enough to be shared intimate details (from Subaru’s perspective such common trivialities were scarce) with. Seishirou wet lower lip, appetite whetted. Secondly and more significantly at the current – Subaru, allegedly, had never gotten himself off. Realization made own groin stir, lustful heat getting to him. Animalistic part of him craved to rip pyjamas off slender body, crawl over Subaru, trap him and tear him apart in most primal way possible. Never one to give into temptation however, Seishirou prided himself on iron self-control and answering to no will other than one of his own. Now why Subaru denied himself pleasure, that was debatable. Nonetheless those wishes were existent, just repressed; otherwise Subaru wouldn’t have opted for passivity, wouldn’t have allowed touch to offer pleasure he deemed forbidden by some criteria. I’ll grant you wishes you’re unaware of. However as long as pleasing you pleases me.

“Really”, Seishirou purred, pierced Subaru with unwavering stare; he’ll intake every gasp, every movement, every moan, nothing will escape his hunter senses.

“I’m honored to have a privilege of bringing you to your first orgasm”, he added with a gentle smile, one suiting vet persona. Subaru yelped and blushed blood red.

“Seishirou-san!”

He chuckled at Subaru’s startled reaction; such purity, hard to believe it existed in this day and age. Seishirou itched to see how far higher can he go. Without any deliberation he grabbed pyjama’s front placket. In a flash Subaru’s hand landed over his.

Silence followed. Few seconds ticked by before Subaru became aware of body’s intuitive response. He uttered meek apology under breath and visibly tried to relax. Looks like his prey wasn’t ready to be tasted yet. That was alright, he’ll lower unconscious guard as time went on. Just Seishirou hoped that moment will arrive before their fake relationship met expiration date.

Another teasing touch, followed by gradually cupping; Seishirou could feel heat Subaru’s erection pulse through cotton, could discern area heating up even more. Subaru buckled into touch, snapped eyes shut and moaned. Back arched from mattress, eyelashes fluttering over heated cheeks and trembled running down spine and thighs – sight beyond erotic, made him harden even more. Still, seeing as he wasn’t intimately acquainted with limits of Subaru’s body, Seishirou decided to err on side of caution. Grown man wouldn’t cum from teasing touch and five minutes of vanilla pet play but repressed virgin teen boy who allegedly never had orgasm before? Won’t be to far-fetched.

Touch abruptly withdrew. Same instant whine left Subaru’s lips; he gazed up confusedly.

“Although I’m not letting you cum in your underwear”, Seishirou stated, tried to give impression of both gentleness and firmness.

Seishirou let gaze fall from Subaru’s eyes to lower body. Long slim legs, shirt ridding up and exposing little bit of hollow of stomach; damp spots on underwear indicating he wouldn’t last too long. Seishirou felt his own cock twitch in response to alluring image. Really, if Subaru was such beauty as a teen, how exquisite will he look in twenties? Actually would look, Seishirou corrected himself. Seeing how Bet was progressing, boy wouldn’t live to seventeenth birthday, let alone twentieth.

Disappointment was more than palpable on Subaru’s features; from flushed face to widened eyes and way they glinted, indicating pure yearning. With half-lidded eyes and leer, Seishirou whispered - “Do you want me to touch you directly?”

Subaru appeared uncertain, per expected. Nonetheless hesitancy didn’t last for long, intensity of need urged him to swiftly make up mind. “Yes p-please”, stuttering and blushing, Subaru breathed out.

Triumphant grin crept up lips; pride swelled in chest, minor victory of his. Giving boy a handjob won’t provide Seishirou with any momentary benefit but it was a baby step towards reaping high-stake rewards; boy could turn out to be a delightful bed partner. Nonetheless, if his prey met his once narrowly avoided demise before he got have a taste it’ll be a pity but nothing to lament about; it was just physical gratification after all, toy always replaceable; but challenge was presented. Seishirou had no qualms about it – he would be pleasant, both due to innocent nature and fact he was marked as Seishirou’s. Only way to bed him during Bet year was if Subaru gave seduction a green light. Until then Seishirou’s hands were tied by conditions he himself set up. Nonetheless given Subaru’s receptivity to touch, he needn’t go an extra mile to turn that perversity reality.

In one swift motion Seishirou eased front side of underwear down to thighs, just enough to free Subaru’s erection; gasping and flushing red as cherry, Subaru bolted hands up to his shoulder; neither pushed nor pulled, howbeit panicky expression was beyond obvious. Seishirou smirked. Oh yes Subaru-kun, just like that. He tried to draw legs up to chest, instinctively tried to hide. Seishirou was having none of that. Lowering Subaru’s legs down and prying them apart, Seishirou reached down and cupped him, skin on skin; gripping Subaru’s chin with other hand Seishirou made sure they maintained eye contact.

“Relax and allow me to show you how it’s done”, he uttered lowly. Then began seduction for real.

First tender rub over tip then swift slide down shaft; Seishirou gave him a firm pump at base then waited few seconds before resuming with tempo. Subaru’s hands gasped shits, hold so taut knuckles went white. In response to every stroke series of whimpers and moans slipped from lips. Tautening the hold Seishirou teased the tip, smeared precome down shaft.

“Ahhh, oh gosh!”, Subaru arched back and moaned unrestrainedly. He grinded into hand once, then abruptly stopped; placed visible effort into keeping still. Cute but pointless.

“Don’t hold back”, Seishirou whispered huskily. Subaru opened eyes and was met with his piercing stare; instant flush.

Discarding last ounce of slowness, Seishirou stroked swiftly and firmly, in same manner he’d get himself off; discarding inhibition, Subaru began steadily grinding hips, meeting all his thrust with matching speed. Given how wide Subaru’s pupils dilated, how he couldn’t control saliva dripping down lips and volume and frequency of moans, how legs thrashed underneath his but were restrained with pyjamas pants, Seishirou intuitively knew he’ll climax in less than a minute.

“So beautiful”, he commented as if mesmerized. In a way he was, with boy’s beauty and willingness to show vulnerability.

“Ahh-hah, Seishirou-san, it’s s-so – ahh”

Oh that breathless moan of his name, it went straight to Seishirou’s clothed erection; it pulsed in echo with Subaru’s, arousal within blood only spurred by erotic sight and sounds. Finger dug over slit; Subaru’s eyes flew wide open, rolled into back of his skull. One hand remained tangling in sheets, other bolted to lips; even when bitting on back of glove, Subaru couldn’t muffle lewd sounds ripping from throat; for those reasons Seishirou let it slide.

“You’re doing great”, he praised and gave him rewarding pump with both fists.

Wave of precome formed at slit, Seishirou felt erection pulse rapidly, swell even more inside his hands. Oh wasn’t that wonderful, another ax to grind; he could use that praise kink to make Subaru’s body yield to his will. Lacking self-esteem and being timid as he was, of course he’d have a thing for being praised by someone older than him. Subaru wasn’t sexually experienced enough to control innate reactions of body, all self-discipline he possessed would go out of window. After all, this is just a game. And I’m afraid it’s not up for debate who will triumph over who.

Seishirou lowered hand to base, gave a loving pump there; then down to testicles where he cupped Subaru and massaged him. He whimpered and twisted uncontrollably beneath him. Whole body sweating and trembling, he had to be close. All indulgences must reach their epilogue, prolonging them past natural limit would be nothing short of becoming depended on them; he’s the one who has upper hand here, precisely because Subaru was in delusion they were on equal ground. Grasping shaft firmly, Seishirou decided to push Subaru over edge.

Up and down. Strokes didn’t stop. Neither did intensity of pumps nor penetrating stare waver; Subaru’s cock twitched rapidly in his hand, body writhing devoid of any conscious will. With breathless desperate moan, Subaru finally opened eyes; just what he was waiting for. Smirking predatorily Seishirou uttered - “Good boy”

Subaru moaned incoherently, movement of his hips gaining speed. “Wait, s-stop… ahhh - I’m going to - “

He didn’t even get to finish the sentence. With last swift thrust, Subaru halted all movements and started releasing all over his fingers and pyjamas shirt. Seishirou kept on stroking him through orgasm; focused on Subaru’s expression. Emerald eyes rolled into back of his skull, back completely arched from sheets, flushed cheeks and lips formed in O-shape, no sound ongoing; good thing Subaru’s hands collapsed down to sides, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to intake this delightful sight. Seishirou’s own erection pulsed in echo; inhaling and exhaling he tried to dampen down level of arousal within blood. Subaru let out a series of meek whimpers, thrust hips few more times while riding orgasm. Seishirou simply observed him, predator preying on its fated prey.

Eventually all movements came to halt. Subaru laid beneath him with unseeing eyes, present only physically. Half-lidded eyes were still an open book, spoke of nothing but tranquility and sedation of post-coital euphoria. Pieces of puzzle fell into their place, Seishirou was no fool to see image was deranged; simply amiss. If Subaru really never masturbated before then he shouldn’t even know what approaching orgasm feels like; not to mention he would have asked far more questions, would demand a pause so body’s needs and mind’s comprehension could synchronize. There was no other – Subaru lied about that little detail. How unexpected of you. Not to mention intriguing for mere bashfulness didn’t sit as adequate elaboration; of no account now, he’ll ponder on why’s and wherefore’s when alone; still he had a pretty good hunch what that was all about.

Seishirou leaned back and waited until Subaru regained metaphorical consciousness. Once he partially snapped out of daze, Seishirou raised stained hand to lips and licked semen off. Gunky and unsavory yes, but he expected it to be thicker. Subaru stared at him absentmindedly but once realization settled in he flushed bright red, hid face with palms and groaned.

“Isn’t that dirty?”, Subaru asked while peeked through fingers. Seishirou chuckled; combed through Subaru’s hair with unstained hand and gradually got up.

“You’re so cute Subaru-kun. If it’s yours I don’t mind”, he uttered, tone still husky.

For nth time Subaru flushed and diverted gaze; Seishirou took a chance to give him once-over. Tousled hair and cheeks red, lips slightly quivering; hands entangled in pyjamas shirt, some of cum drying on lower parts (no way Subaru noticed that, otherwise he’d stutter and apologize profusely for ‘ruining’ the cloth), legs bent and snapped shut, pyjamas bottom and underwear eased down to knees. Desire flared up, lust floated through bloodstream; carnal thoughts surged over, once more Seishirou silenced them with ease. Subaru hesitantly raised head up and looked at him; hopeful and yearning, expecting of Seishirou to affirm him that what has happened was alright, that he could be at peace with himself. Fool.

Seishirou raised chin up and purposely let eyes wander down Subaru’s lower body; then asked instead - “Felt good right?”

Not to stroke own ego but even five minute handjob had to feel mind-blowing to someone as untouched as Subaru. He parted lips as to speak but no sound went on; snapping them shut Subaru blushed again and nodded. Good, Seishirou purred internally. If something as novel and enticing as sexual pleasure was laid on table, Subaru might fall into it like moth to the flame; especially as he lacked experience in that field, every fight against self-proclaimed forbidden desires would lead to failure, only spice up ardency. In retrospect Seishirou thanked Subaru’s repressed teenager hormones for betraying him at such convenient timing.

“What about you Seishirou-san?”, Subaru’s unsteady voice snapped him out of mussing. What about – ah, that. Seishirou couldn’t help but smirk at comprehension; masked it into carefree chuckle. Underestimation to say he wasn’t expecting Subaru to offer reciprocation but then again, kindness fixed trait of his, only natural he’ll worry about other people’s comfort.

“Isn’t this type of thing that’s meant to be…”, Subaru added but his voice wavered; no need for elaboration, Seishirou knew exactly what he meant.

“Cute of you to offer Subaru-kun, but there’s no need to force yourself into anything”, he explained in light tone, once more resuming vet persona.

If he expressed the need for reciprocation, without a shadow of doubt Subaru would give in; won’t be a matter of want anymore but obligation dictated by his empathy and kindness. It’d be pleasant to obtain release, also arousing to observe Subaru’s reactions and clumsy inexperienced techniques. Could wait till next time, Seishirou decided; bird in hand was worth two in bushes. He had to keep facade of consideration for time being, not push past Subaru’s comfort zone; all in name of pretense. If it weren’t for Bet rules, I’d have manipulated you into my bed long ago. Being so naive and pure, you’d wouldn't even notice foul play. And when final moment ticks out, he’d disregard Subaru like a broken toy, step over his corpse as stepped over all his previous victims. Few more months were left to be seen if he has a allegorical heart, but seeing how year was progressing (or rather not at all), Seishirou doubted his unfeeling heart was capable of something as pure as love. If he got to have some fun with his toy along the way, maybe then year won’t be all for naught.

“But…”, Subaru murmured under breath. Before he could add anything more Seishirou decided to tease him a bit.

“Not to mention, I’m afraid I won’t be satisfied with simple repeat of what I did to you”, he added lightly, however with a leered and playful smirk, all while eyes wandered uninhibitedly over Subaru’s body. Boy got the message it seems; he yelled and hastily began redressing.

Teasing worked its magic, caused Subaru to dress up, break bedroom mood and shifted into established one. Only in absence of any stimulating images did Seishirou realized how hard he actually was; atypical of him to get this aroused without any sort of friction. No matter, he’ll endure, erection should go down soon. Breathing in and out from bottom of stomach Seishirou tried to calm down level of arousal within blood; managing so to satisfying degree, once more he payed undivided attention to his prey.

Subaru got up and uncertainly approached him; tad bit too late for bashfulness in Seishirou’s opinion. Approached him, Subaru shyly asked – “Seishirou-san?”

“Yes Subaru-kun?”

Seishirou turned to side and looked at Subaru. For a moment he kept silent, probably internally tossing and turning sentences, trying to center inner disarrayed thoughts and form them into something coherent; always trying to conceal what was going on behind those naive eyes, but Seishirou could read him like back of own palm. He had to be uncertain about nature of their relationship; or maybe was still trying to justify what has happened, or -

“Could you…”, Subaru began waveringly. Seishirou neither discouraged nor encouraged him to continued. “… not tell Hokuto-chan what happened?”

Interesting. Not what Seishirou was expecting; but at same time it was to be expected. Really, how would you tell your sister you had your first sexual experience before first kiss? Even Subaru subconscious could tell order wasn’t right; fortunately for all three of them those suspicions never passed threshold of consciousness. Not that Seishirou planed to tell her anything, far from that; not solely for sake of keeping memories private. She was their biggest supporter, Seishirou privately thanked her as without her cheerleading, getting into twins’ life suspicion-free would be uphill climb (or maybe not, Subaru was too trusting for own good); still, despite being bubbly and seemingly shallow, it was all surface, Hokuto was no fool. Subaru didn’t give his sister enough credit, girl could be quite sharp when she wanted to; no doubt she’d smell something astray there, especially if it involved her beloved twin; this way Subaru was doing him a favor by wanting their little trysts to stay behind closed doors. If, or more optimistically, when, their sexual relationship progressed and Subaru could say crystal-clear it was his decision then it’ll be a whole different story.

Whichever way, one thing was clear: Subaru still had conflicted feelings about own repressed desires. Those inhibitions and turmoils, I’ll free you of them. All you need to do is let me.

Seishirou stared dispassionately down into Subaru’s eyes for few more seconds; prolonged tension for own amusement. Anxiety was more than evident on Subaru’s expression, he looked adorable distressed like that. Eventually Seishirou let his lips curve into a gentle smile; no doubt it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I won’t let her in on it if you don’t want her to know”, he responded at last. Same instant Subaru closed eyes sighed with relief.

“Thank you. She’ll tease and demand to know everything. Hokuto-chan means well I know, but I’d rather -”

“- keep something to myself”, Seishirou finished the sentence in a heartbeat.

Subaru appeared taken aback, didn’t expect him to hit bull’s eye. More reasons behind craving secrecy were present, but Subaru was aware of only most surface one. Briefly Seishirou wondered how Subaru, who was diametrical opposite of poker face, would manage to keep something like his first sexual experience from his sister; especially since three of them often spent time together. Oh well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Don’t worry Subaru-kun”, Seishirou hushed, voice silken and low; from eye’s corner he discerned Subaru shiver. In a flash he closed distance between them; Subaru flinched but even when instinct was evoked he didn’t try to hide. Fingertip slid down from forehead over nose, down to lips; blush spread over cheeks, pupils dilated but Subaru held still. Placing finger under Subaru’s chin, Seishirou raised it up until their eye met. Subaru allowed that little maneuvering, just like he’d allow anything else.

“It’ll be our little secret”

#back with my sin :D #fics #tokyo babylon #seisub #seishirou sakurazuka #subaru sumeragi

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magical-bear-dubin · 5 months

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Today i had such a great dream!

Part 1: Cursed Dinner

So I was in the Ice Cream shop (that i work in) and i noticed most of the flavours were chocolate. Just chocolate. So obviously I took a bite out of 1 and it was ACTUALLY ducle de leche. But in this dream i was allergic to dulce de leche which meant 2 things: 1 i had to go to the bathroom and 2 i got telekinetic powers

After coming out of the bathroom I returned to my Uncle's dinner party (as if i werent just in a diffrent place...) Also important to sjay in the bathroom i saw signs of several dangers and deaths and understoond the dinner is cursed for some reason.

Anyway i go back to take food as usual and my uncle insists on putting stuff on my plate but only after i call him uncle every time he put something.

Anyway i take some more food and eat and can't find the delicious meat (idk that was a whole arc) and then my cousin tells me something idk and i told her "i dont feel so good. Look" and pull a bottle telekineticly to me and she says "oh thats not telekinesis" so i ask "what is then?" And then she says "this" while taking the salad apart kineticly, jumbling all the pieces and putting it back in the bowl, in a fraction of a second. I think to myself "wow this would be great for shuffling cards!"

From her i dont really remember what happens until...

Part 2: couple geese:

The concept is the following: every person in a couple has his own "spirit goose" which grows and becomes more fancy as they get closer to wedding. It begins with small cute geese, turns into large majestic geese when the relationship blossoms, and when the wedding draws near, they get huge, with crowns and golden arches (not mcdonalds like golden ribbons and shit) around them.

And i followed in the dream it was nice.

Part 3: Phantom Catgirl

Anyway so remember the wedding was cursed? The dream sure did cause everyone died. And i got reincarnated as an ubound couple goose. I tried to bind myself to some but their own geese attacked me. I finally found a girl to follow but idk i diddnt want to posses her she was so nice and then it hit me! I can just transform into a catgirl and blend in. So i did, and hid in the reception while guests came in, and then just left to do troubles and pass through walls using my ghost powers and then i passed through a couple walls i probably shouldnt have, and seen something i wouldnt see even in @s-laptop (because the notifs do NOT censore your posts D:) and the dream was cut (which is usual). So i woke up

Part 4: neighbor bass:

I woke up and played a song in my head and thought "wow the bass line sure is realistic" and then i realized "oh its because it IS real". Anyway i did some stuff and heard my alarm and was like " hell yea i got up half an hour befo-" and then i woke up. For real this time.

Im not sure if the bass stuff happened irl before i reslep or in my dream tbh.

Also the pahntom catgril looked a bit like your old pfp @godofautism

#dream #today i dreamt #do you think that the catgirl part says im aro? tbh i had a gay dream once and i dony think im gay so who knows #dream interpretation #gay dream

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mcalhenwrites · 1 year

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Everything I write has some special meaning to me. I'll say, "this story is self-indulgent", but they all are. This doesn't mean I suddenly started being self-indulgent about my writing. I always have been. It's just that the indulgences tend to be different categories. Geckos, Automata indulged several loves, from steampunk to automata to wild west inspiration! The Hostile Credence and everything that got lumped into the dragon universe was to indulge a love of dragons and terrifying monsters and scifi. Rascal indulged my want for consensual kink and steampunk. Also, I managed to shame my rich family member who was buddies with Henry Ford, I hope my great great grandfather is turning in his grave over it. :) Seasons indulges... a lot of personal pain and my need for catharsis. I posted it on anon bc while proud of the writing I did, I thought it would be repulsive to most of my friends and subscribers. Now it's my most popular work on AO3, and I imagine it's still unappealing, but I don't care to steep myself in shame abouti t. And it still stuns me that people have connected with the work and the feelings expressed. It means a lot to me that people asked about the characters and wanted to know more... I've had so much kind reception on it. Honestly, through some rough shit, that's been one of the best things to have in my life the past few months. I'm really touched. It's always been a dream of mine to connect with others by expressing so many emotions in my work that it resonates with other people. A lot of what I write is the sort of stuff I needed available to read when I was younger. It's not for everyone, and that's okay. I just hope it finds the people who need it just as much as I have. :) There's so much I want to accomplish with my writing. Between health and finances, I never know if I can really do even a fraction of what I want with my writing, but... I'm still going to try my best. I always have, and I always will work hard on my writing while still being true to my feelings. I have fun with my writing and characters. I don't want to be someone who feels like I have to hold back on that. I love what I do. I've worked hard to be the writer I am now. And my writing is good, even if it took me a long time to realize that. Anyway, I'm gonna keep going! With any luck, once I get over this cold, I'll be able to finish the draft for Seasons and actually update how many chapters it'll be! I have so many side stories planned, too... And it's only one of so many universes I've created. I am grateful for those who support me through this journey with original fiction. Thank you for reading, tips (of the helpful-with-writing variety as well as the money ones!), lovely comments, and support. 🧡🧡🧡

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mystic-writings · 3 years

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too late | george weasley

PAIRING — george weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY — you give a speech at your best friend, george's wedding, and discreetly reveal your love for the newly married man

WARNINGS — angst, pining, sort-of unrequited love

WORD COUNT — 2,075

NOTE — this is a no war!au and a rewrite of an old fic! read the original one here

masterlist | navigation

From the moment you woke up that morning, you knew what kind of a day you were in for, and you wanted to go back to bed immediately after you woke up. It was George Weasley’s wedding day. George and Angelina’s wedding day. The day your best friend, the man you had been helplessly in love with for years, would get married to someone who wasn’t you.

Of course, it wasn’t like you had done anything. The first few years after graduation, you sat back and watched the two fall in love, while you hid how you felt behind fake smiles and unrelenting support. Very few people knew how you felt for the man, and all tried to convince you to tell him, but you always knew there was no way you would be able to do it.

You got to watch their relationship evolve before your eyes as your friends shouted at you to tell George how you felt, but you always ignored them. Now it was too late. So now, here you were, crying in the bathroom of the familiar Weasley home not long after you arrived for the reception. The ceremony was long since finished, and the hopeless feeling had only sunk in moments ago.

Pulling yourself together, you used your wand to retouch your makeup and headed back out to the tent in the yard, preparing yourself for the speech you were about to give to the newlywed couple. The happy couple.

The tent silenced as you walked up to the microphone stand, keeping your eyes to the left, where the two sat, hand in hand with their bridal party on either side of them. You flashed a smile to the crowd as you adjusted the notecards in your hand.

“First, I wanted to start off by saying that I think I speak for everyone here when I say that I wish you both the best in your new journey, and that you two are practically meant to be. I honestly have no idea how Angelina has put up with George’s antics for so long, but if she can, then I know she’s perfect for you.” Clearing your throat, you glanced down at your notecards, a perfectly worded speech laid out in front of you. “Originally, I had a speech planned out, but it doesn’t feel quite right, so I think I’m just going to speak from what I feel.” You tucked the notes back into your dress pocket, ignoring the slight shake in your hands. “When I look at the two of you, I’m reminded of someone I once loved. When I was with him, it felt like I was coming up for air after being trapped underwater for decades. I would’ve done anything for him- become anything. If he had told me that he never wanted to see me again, I wouldn’t have complained, because if he was happy that way, then I would find a way to be happy, too. Everything felt right when I was with him; he was my sun, my moon, and my stars. And if the two of you feel for each other even a fraction of what I felt for him, then I know you will have a long, happy, and prosperous marriage.”

Lifting your glass to the couple, you hoped that neither them nor the crowd could see the shine in your eyes and the falter in your smile, but there was someone who did. While his brother simply smiled gratefully, Fred’s happy look wavered with concern, but you simply tried to brush him off as you toasted the couple before moving back to your table, where the rest of the Weasley family - Harry and Hermione included - resided.

You did your very best to hold back your overbearing emotions throughout the rest of the speeches and dinner. You chatted with Bill and Fleur about their work, and with Charlie about which dragon you thought was best, which did take your mind off of things, if only for a little while. But, as soon as the dessert plates were levitated off the table, you picked the napkin from your lap and dropped it where the plates had been, clearing your throat as you did so.

“I think I should be leaving now,” you mentioned to the group.

“What?” Molly asked. “But the celebration’s barely begun, dear! Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I would love to Molly, really, but I’m afraid I have to go to work early in the morning.” You told her as the guests began filtering onto the dance floor, just as your table groaned out protests of your early leave. You stood, bidding your goodbyes to the group before wading your way through the couples on the dance floor to say a polite goodbye to George and Angelina.

You spotted them talking to a few old classmates, but as soon as George spotted you and both people turned their attention to your approach, you painted a smile on your face as you met up with them. “Thank you both for having me, and again, congratulations, but I’ve got to go.”

“Are you sure? The party’s just started!” Angelina asked, a slight frown forming on her face.

“I’m sorry, but I really do have to go,” you told her, “lots to do and little time to do it. But again, congratulations to you both.”

The woman pulled you into an appreciative hug, which you reluctantly returned, before turning and hugging George. He bent slightly due to your height difference, and while you had him, you whispered, “Congrats, Georgie,”

You tried to hide the bittersweet finality in your words, letting go of the man and turning around, once again hoping that none of the guests around you could see the tears glistening in your eyes as you pushed past them, walking out of the tent and into the field outside of the Weasley family home. The place that felt like a second home, the place where you shared years worth of memories with Fred and George.

As you approached the front door to get your coat, feeling odd at the lack of light and bustle inside the home, the tent flap opened behind you and the grass rustled as someone jogged to approach you. Your shoulders tensed as you froze when they called your name. Nervously, you turned around to meet George’s conflicted eyes. The eyes that, once upon a time, you would’ve spent forever staring into.

“Y/n, wait!” He called, hurrying to catch up with you. “Before you go, I need to know something. What you said, in your speech earlier, were you… were you talking about me?”

“George-” you tried to plead, but the man cut you off.

“No, Y/n, I need to know.” He demanded. “Were you talking about me?”

You sighed, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before telling him, “Of course I was, Georgie.”

“I love you, too, Y/n.” The confession shocked you, causing you to open your eyes, feeling them fill with tears as you shook your head.

“No, George, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” He argued.

Balling up your fist, you shouted, “No you don’t! Because if you did, I would’ve been the one that got married to you today, not her!” Your outburst shocked the both of you, and you could only pray that the music inside the tent was loud enough that no one inside heard you. Taking a deep breath, you dared to look your friend in the eye as you said, “George, you can’t just confess your love to your best friend, not when you’ve only been married for five hours. It’s not right.”

“I know that, Y/n! Don’t you think I already know that?” He shouted back, confused and guilty. “And who are you to talk, putting your feelings into the speech you read during the reception!”

You nodded, gnawing on your lip. “I knew I should’ve declined. I shouldn’t have come today, George.”

“I wanted you to come.” He insisted. “I needed you to be here. It wouldn’t have been the same if you weren’t,”

“George,” You sighed sadly, ignoring the tears that were ready to fall as you stepped up and took one of his hands in yours, the other resting gently on his cheek. “George Weasley, I cannot live without you. You are the keeper of my heart, and you always have been. You are the holder of all my hopes and desires, the very center of my thoughts. Yet, it’s Angelina’s hand you choose to hold, her bed that you share. You are the very air that I breathe, the blood in my veins. And I will love you forever, but I cannot have you. You are everything to me, but you’re not mine.”

“Y/n, please, I-” He begged, but you silenced him.

“I’m sorry, Georgie, but I have to go. I can’t be here any longer. Best of luck to you and Angelina.” George’s heart clenched at the nickname you used, one that only you were allowed to use. You pressed a light kiss to his cheek and, taking two steps back, you let go of his hand and smiled a tight, watery smile, before a crack! echoed through the cold night air, and you were no longer standing in front of him.

And there he was, standing alone in the cold night air, a raging party in celebration of him and his brand new wife occurring behind him. All those people within 20 feet of him, and he still felt alone. The love of his life slipped through his fingers, and he couldn’t do anything to stop her.

Even though he married Angela, and even though he really did love her, it was you that he wanted. He always had. When he started dating the woman years ago, it was because he thought it would help him be relieved of his suffocating feelings for you - feelings he never thought would be reciprocated, until now. Until he had already been married, and until there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn’t rid his chest of the guilt that gnawed at his soul for dragging Angelina into the mess of his feelings and poor decision making. So, with a fake smile, a clenched heart, and a racing mind, he straightened his shoulders and sauntered back into the tent to celebrate his new marriage with his wife and family, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

You apparated into the front entrance of your apartment, bending into an odd position to slip off your uncomfortable high heels, hearing them clatter to the floor with relief before fumbling your hand across the wall and flicking on the light switch. Shuffling into your kitchen, you dug through a cardboard box that rested on the counter, pulling out a glass cup and filling it with the firewhiskey that resided on your counter. Looking around your apartment as you sipped on the alcohol, you felt odd to see it looking so bare, boxes stacked in the middle of the room, all of your belongings crammed inside.

Glancing back down at your counter, you spotted a form. You remembered that it was to be sent out tomorrow morning, the last step in your job transfer to France. A small bit of guilt settled in your stomach when you were reminded that you were doing this with a limited amount of people knowing, and wondering how everyone else would feel when Bill and Fleur told them the news instead of you. As for your family, you just hoped that Molly or Fred or George, even, would have the heart to tell them.

By nightfall tomorrow, everything you owned would be in your new cottage home in the French countryside, and from there, you could start over. It wasn’t the best option, but you reckoned that it was needed if you wanted to truly try and move on from the ginger. And if that meant leaving everything behind and getting a fresh, new start, then that’s just what needed to be done.

Surely everyone would understand, wouldn’t they? Even if they didn’t, then all you could do was hope that they would respect your decision and stop thinking about it. After all, if this is what it would take to move on from George Weasley, then it was the right thing to do.

Forever taglist: @simonsbluee @reeseswritings @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04

George Weasley taglist: open!

taglist form is in my navigation!

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley imagine #george weasley angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #hp x reader

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stagefoureddiediaz · 2 years

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Was it you or someone else who mentioned Eddie isn't in pajamas (so it's not a nightmare fueled breakdown), but that he's in jeans with a rip in the knee, something we have never really seen from him before! What to you think about the torn black pants, and the shirt nearly the exact shade as the one he wore when breaking up with Ana?

Hey Nonnie

It was me and a couple of others mentioned it as well!

The knee rip is interesting because it’s not like Eddie at all - but it fits in with a little theme - s1 Buck wears torn/ distressed jeans to his awful therapy appointment (interestingly it’s the same knee that’s ripped) I know what you’re thinking - but that wasn’t a good therapy appointment etc.

But here’s the thing it’s not about the therapy appointment or what happened there - it’s about Bucks mindset - this is the first time Buck has experienced losing someone and he doesn’t know what to do about it - he’s lucky in that he confides in Bobby who pushes him toward therapy, and yes that didn’t exactly work out in this case (although Buck would claim it did and eventually got his actual therapy from talking to Devon’s sister) but it did set Buck on the course of being receptive to therapy going forward - as we see later on.

Now here’s where that ties to Eddie in the promo scene - Eddie has probably spent his life being told to suck it up, put it away and move on, that therapy is for weak people etc so that’s what he’s always done - repressed everything and dismissed therapy - except when he was forced to to keep his job - no wonder he didn’t ‘click’ with Frank. So that rip is like bucks rips - tears in his armour that is going to make him receptive to therapy and talking going forward - he’s reached the point where he knows he really does need help - that he’s let buck see those rips and his breakdown is testament to their relationship- only Buck is the one who Eddie will allow in this far - so buck will be the one to guide him to therapy and this time - because Eddie has the support he’s never had before - therapy is going to work.

The shirt is a whole other fun thing - the use of a similar but darker and more muddy shade to the Ana break up one is again intentional - Eddie thought that breaking up with Ana would stop his panic attacks - that he’d be magically cured by ending the thing he saw as causing them. Only what he actually did was open the defences a little - Ana is just the straw that broke the camels back - we’ve seen more stuff trickling out in 5A until Eddie leaves the 118 in 5x10 - again the jacket is a muddied shade of green - it’s a bit brighter because it’s a decision he’s made (it’s the tiny bit of relief at easing the burden a fraction) think is it’s widened those defences a bit more - now everything is coming out faster and with more force until we hit breakdown - when he’s in the muddiest coloured shirt we’ve seen him in.

Eddie’s shirts while muted and generally neutral in tone have always been clean colours (and by that I mean they are an obvious colour - cream, black, tan, grey, olive green etc) whereas this shirt is murky looking - it’s a brown/grey/green - it just looks depressed and confused. And that’s the point - his defences are more or less destroyed by this point - all the stuff he’s repressed up to now is flooding out and it’s a murky mess (that one Ana left him to deal with!!!) But, now its flooded out, it can be picked through and sorted and dealt with.

So that’s what those shirts are saying - they’re showing eddies decent to breaking point in an additional visual way that you as a viewer will subconsciously pick up on (unless like me you’re trained in costume and colour theory so it’s less sub conscious and more concious!) and it adds layers to the effectiveness of the storytelling

Hopefully that’s made sense?!! I will post a bit more of a detailed analysis tomorrow (provided fox don’t post more stuff to send us hurling ourselves into the sun!) on all the stuff I spotted in the promo but it’s 3am here and I need sleep 😳😳😳 but thank you for a great ask 💜💜💜

#kym answers things #kym costume stuff #kym costume meta #911 promo costume #911 on fox #911 fox #911 spoilers #911onfox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck #buddie #eddie #911 #911 speculation

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americxn · 3 years

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Little Witch | James March x reader

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ As part of the coven, Cordelia sends you to the Hotel Cortez to carry out a favour for James Patrick March, who has promised to pay the coven handsomely in return for your help. However, in using your gifts at the hotel, you reveal more than intended, igniting James’ interest in you. words: 4000k + (not proofread)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“Hello?” You pivoted slowly, neck craned to take in the glorious room you found yourself stood in. Calling out again, you spotted the front desk at the back of the room and headed towards it, the red velvet carpet soft beneath your feet. “Is anyone there?” You braced your hands on the cool wood on the desk, leaning forwards in a futile attempt to peer behind the door against the far wall of the reception that had been left open a crack. Huffing, you slung your designer bag from off your shoulder and dumped it on the floor. Why the hell was nobody here? Surely Cordelia didn’t forget to notify the staff to your arrival. The creaking of the door behind the desk as it swung open startled you and you looked up to see a short, stout looking woman with big glasses that framed her round face in an adorable manner. “Hi, do you work here?” You questioned tentatively. “Yes, I’m Iris. Sorry, have you been waiting for long?” She reached under the desk, pulling out a large leather bound book and flipping it open. “No, it’s fine,” you paused, noting the book she began to flick through. “I, erm, I don’t have a reservation or anything.” The sound of the little women flicking through the pages of her book stopped abruptly, the large room falling utterly quiet. You cleared your throat, the wailing and screaming filling the deepest part of your brain threatening to spill into your consciousness; Cordelia had warned you about this. That this hotel, this glorious hotel, was certainly not as pleasant as it seemed. And you had felt it the moment you stepped out of the Uber that had deposited you on the front steps of the building, could hear the suffering in the back of your head, people pleading and crying. An awful feeling settling over you, a warning and a promise. Stay away or die. You steeled your nerve and forced the growing butterflies in your stomach to settle. I know what I’m doing. “I’m y/n, I’ve come from New Orleans. Were you not notified of my arrival?” The woman started, a guilty red tinged blooming on her cheeks. “Oh, of course, of course. Sorry about this,” she paused to gesture around the empty room. “Busy week.” An awkward silence fell as she seemed to notice the utter stillness radiating from the entire building, and cleared her throat, coming round the your side of the desk and beckoning you. “Follow me.” You did, stooping briefly to retrieve your bag and sling it over one shoulder. The woman led you up a shallow set of steps set into the far wall of the room, and into an open hallway. A few turns later and you found yourself at a cozy looking bar, the room opening beyond into a generous dining room, with multiple sets of tables and chairs occupying the space. “Liz!” Iris called, pulling your attention to her and the woman who walked out from behind the bar. “This is y/n. I assume March will come and collect her soon, but who knows with that man.” The last part was muttered on a tired sounding breath. “Keep her company, will you.” “Of course.” Liz, as Iris had called her, hurried to the other side of the bar and you took a seat at a barstool, thanking the receptionist as she walked away. “Can I get you a drink?” Liz asked you, leaning both her elbows on the bar and gazing at you with curiosity. Your mouth opened to respond, but you paused briefly as you remembered your unfamiliar surroundings and the undead man you were going to meet and closed you mouth, shaking your head. “I’m alright, thank you though.” A small small spread on Liz’s face. “You don’t need to be worried, you know, although I don’t blame you.” She pushed off the bar as she spoke, taking up a cloth and setting herself before a pile of glasses, picking one up and beginning to polish it. “That Supreme of yours would bring this building down with half a thought if anything were to happen to you, I’m sure.” You huffed a small laugh in response. “It might take a few of us to pull off something like that but yes,” you paused, unsure of how much this person knew and how much you should let on. “But I can’t lie, this building feels miserable.” You explained with a small shiver as the hairs on your neck raised in agreement. Liz chuckled. “You’re not the first to say that.” You smiled slightly, a smile that turned into a grimace as the incessant wailing in your head got a fraction louder. “They agree too.” You muttered quietly. Liz cocked her head, a stack on freshly polished glasses beginning to pile up beside her. “Especially...” you paused, pulling out a tendril of your power from the bottomless well inside you and allowing it to follow the call of the loudest voice that had filled your ears since you first set foot in the building. “Mary.” The mention of her name was like a catalyst, breaking through any sort of barrier between you and the suffering spirits of the hotel and a series of horrendous images flooding your mind. “Oh god,” you grimaced at the blood and gore that was projected in your head, a snapshot from some time ago, on the eleventh floor in a room directly above you. Your nose crinkled in distaste as you blinked the images away. “Poor girl.” “What a helpful little tool.” Liz mused, setting the half-polished glass and cloth on the surface of the bar and looking at you intently. “Who else can you hear?” You paused again to listen, but a scuffing sound on the carpet from the hall outside the bar caught your attention and you turned in your seat, a mere second before a man stepped into view. “Ah, yes!” The dark-haired man exclaimed as he clasped his hands behind his back. You couldn’t help the one eyebrow that you involuntarily raised at the sudden appearance of this man, as you took in his odd clothes, the dark pencil moustache and the accent that you just couldn’t place. He wore a scarlet handkerchief around his neck, a stark contrast to the white shirt he wore beneath a dark waistcoat. “Mary.” He hummed. “Such a pretty thing, but my god was she loud.” He barked a jovial laugh as he stepped further into the room. You took an unsure glance at Liz, who met you gaze briefly before going back to her glasses. “Are you...?” You trailed off, trying to get a reading on the man but coming up short. “James Patrick March.” He spoke proudly, his chin raised slightly as if he were addressing a room full of important people. You tore your gaze from him, slipping off the stool and donning your bag once more. “Right,” you nodded, “I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You said as you walked up to him, confused as to why his presence filled the room with blessed silence, like a blockade to the screaming walls and voices that had swirled around your head just moments before. But you meant it. He seemed to draw you in, his little smile somewhat endearing as he held out an arm for you to take, which you did, and found, yet again, that he was impenetrable, that you couldn’t hear or see anything when you touched him. Cordelia had warned you of him, had apologised for choosing to send you to the hotel and gave you a brief rundown of his history, of the terrible things he had done in this hotel, his hotel. But now, as he led you into an ornate elevator arm to arm, taking your bag from your shoulder and putting it on his own in a gentlemanly gesture, happily making small talk with you as the elevator door closed, the only vibes you were getting from him was that of a harmless teddy bear. You had to suppress a smile as you responded to his question of: “I trust you got here easily? How long did it take from New Orleans?” And then getting caught in the flow of his own rambling: “I wish I could visit there. I only went once before getting stuck in this building. Exquisite food. Oh and even better music.” You found it incredibly endearing. The elevator doors opened and you allowed James to lead to into the hallway, peering up at him as he continued to talk. “Ah, here we are.” He exclaimed, pushing open the door labelled ‘55′ and allowing you to go in before you. The room was decorated in an odd sort of outdated way which somehow managed to still be cozy and welcoming; red carpet, dark oak furniture and strangely shaped light fittings. There was a large table in the centre of the room, a bed pushed against the wall beyond that and a small sitting area to the right. Looking to the left, you spied a door, open a crack to reveal a clean-looking bathroom beyond. James pulled you out a chair and gestured for you to sit before hurrying round the table and situating himself opposite you. “I must say,” he began, surveying you as you pulled your bag onto your lap and began taking out the items necessary for the location spell that you were to perform for James. He continued, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the wood of the table, “it has been a while since I have had a run-in with a witch. And an even longer time since I’ve had relations with your coven.” Pulling out two large candles, you met his gaze and smiled softly. “Well, I’m happy to help.” You said mildly, just wanting to perform this spell for him and leave. This hotel just didn’t sit right with you and you were hesitant to spend more time than necessary within its walls. The room fell into a somewhat awkward silence as you pulled out the rest of the contents of your bag: a large map of Los Angeles and a thin, cruel looking blade. You cleared your throat quietly as you spread the map upon the table, James retracting his elbows to give you space, watching your every move intently. You placed a candle at each side of the map, lighting them with half a thought and a lazy flick of your wrist. The impressed expression that fell over James’ face caused a barely suppressed soft smile to spread over your lips, a strange of sense of satisfaction unfurling in your chest. Palming the small knife, you met his interested gaze. “Did you bring a connection with you?” You had assumed that Cordelia had explained the spell to James, that in order for you to find what he had lost, you would need some sort of connection with it. If it were an object, you would need a small part of the item or to perform the spell at the last place it was seen in order to retrieve it, but, as Cordelia had explained to you, as it was a person that had gone missing, you would need some of their DNA, some hair, blood, even a finger nail clipping, just anything that you could use to tether yourself to the missing person. “Oh, yes of course. Miss Evers!” He called, looking at the door behind where you sat. You pivoted as the door opened, beholding the maid that bustled in, a small child clinging onto her hand. Your eyes narrowed. “Bring him over here. Yes that’s it.” He welcomed the oddly-dressed child into his arms. The boy couldn’t have been older than six, his thick head of platinum blonde hair glinting in the candle light. James ushered the maid away before looking to you expectantly. “What am I to do with him?” You ventured, the boy’s presence making you feel uncomfortable. No child should be involved in witchcraft, especially in such a spell that you were to perform. But then again, looking at the boy, you couldn’t tell if he was entirely human. A deeply unsettling aura rippled off of the child, whose head was turned shyly to rest in James’ chest. “This is the closest thing I could salvage from her. They are connected in a way that I am not required to explain,” he offered a tight smile. “So please,” he jerked his head at the blade in your hand, “continue.” You frowned, but did as you were told, dragging the knife across your palm, hard enough to draw blood, a practice that you were so used to doing, the sting of the blade cutting into you barely registered. Clenching your hand into a tight fist, you held your hand out before you above where the Hotel Cortez was located on the map and allowed three drops of your blood to splash onto the paper. Your stomach twisted at what you had to next, meeting James’ eyes and holding out your hand. “I need to do the same with him.” You muttered. James, to your surprise, took the boys hand and held it out to you happily, forcing his palm open and holding it steady as you raised the blade and drew a deep line across his little hand. Even more surprisingly, the boy didn’t so much as whine as you put his hand into a tiny fist and held it above the map, allowing for a few drops of his blood to fall on top of your own. “Thank you.” You said to the boy gently, releasing his hand. James lifted him off his lap, patting his head fondly and called for Miss Evers again who returned and took the boy out of the room. “Go ahead, witchling.” He said, a curious glint in his eye. “Alright.” You breathed, surveying the map before you before letting your eyes fall shut. “This shouldn’t take too long. Remind me of her name?” “Her name is Elizabeth. She took off from the hotel eight days ago. I need her back here.” Nodding, you let this information and the quietness of the room settle over you, holding your hands outstretched over the map. Scrying was a pain in the ass, but it was what you were best at. You reminded yourself of this as you began the incantation, readying yourself for the feeling of coming out of your being, of losing control of yourself. With each word you spoke, you began to feel the sensation of being pulled out of your body until your conscious being was hovering above the table, watching yourself utter the incantation with your hands held above the map, James’ eyes glued to your face in wonder. Below your hands, the little puddle of blood began to inch itself across the paper of the map and you concentrated as your vision began to dim, chanting louder as the candles flared. God this hotel. It was an effort to focus yourself as the memories of suffering clouded your thoughts and an ache began to spread from one temple to the other. Glancing at yourself, you cringed as you face began to pinch, a small drop of blood forming and dripping from your nose. Your chanting became frenzied, hands beginning to shake where you held them above the table. The blood continued to trail across the map and you grimaced at the worsening pounding in your head, watching as the muscles in your jaw clenched. “Y/n?” You started, having forgot that James was present and began to panic as he reached out a hand tentatively. If you touched you, you would be pulled back into yourself and the spell would be broken. “No.” The word formed soundlessly on your lips, blood dripping from your other nostril. The blood on the map began to slow its journey, beginning to pool itself back together. Just a few more moments and- “Y/n.” James reached over and brought his hand onto your shoulder, and you were forced back into yourself, an irritated protest forming on your lips. But as his hand settled on your shoulder, a flurry of images emptied itself into your head with such force that you jerked. The images were of James, his face the same as it was now but in various outfits. James stood before a half-built building, an oddly shaped hat perched on his head, James laughing as he popped open a bottle of champagne before a crowd of cheering people. And there he was again, stood in a dimly lit room with red carpets and walls, a mutilated body sprawled on a table before him. In this picture he sighed, blood splattering his face and a series of sharp, wicked blades having been discarded at his feet. You were forced to endure a series of similar images, James’ grip on your arm tightly as you tried to expel the pictures in your head, but to no avail. And then you saw yourself from James’ vantage point as he stepped into the bar you had been in hardly thirty minutes ago, Liz polishing her glasses before where you sat, your bag abandoned at your feet. This image was quickly replaced by another, of you and James sat at this very table, but you were both dressed in finery, you at one end and him at the other, large plates of food set before you as you sipped on your wine, James laughing at a joke you had made. Then you saw the two of you running through the hallways of the hotel, giggling like children and shouting as he chased after you as you both barrelled through the hallways before James caught you and pushed you gently against the wall, his lips finding yours as you both laughed breathlessly. The scene changed quickly, and you were looking through your own eyes as James smiled down at you with teary eyes, your white lace-covered hand clutched in his as you made your vows to love him, a priest stood a few feet away overseeing the ceremony in the reception of the hotel. And then a glorious feeling working itself into you as the next image appeared in your head: of you sprawled out on the same bed that was behind James now, mewling in pleasure as James’ head worked between your legs. Your fingers were gripped tightly in his hair, a white gown and light grey suit scattered in pieces around the bed he worshipped you upon. Only when the vision snapped to you cupping your swollen belly lovingly, did you finally find the strength to locate your physical self and slip back into it, pulling away from James. As soon as his hand fell from your arm, the visions disappeared abruptly and you blinked as you stared at him across the table, his eyes creased in concern. Letting out a shaky breath, you reached up and wiped at your face, your fingers coming away bloody and James stood hurrying over to you. You felt dizzy and could barely see straight as his cold fingers hooked under you chin and you were forced to look right at him as he tutted quietly, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and gently cleaning up the blood that had expelled itself from both nostrils and from the corner of one eye. Had he seen or felt anything? Had he meant to put those images in your head? You breathing faltered as he met your stare, the images that you had seen appearing again in the back of your mind, of his head between your spread legs as your back arched off the bed. You shook this images from your head and forced yourself into action. You reached up and pulled his hand from your face. “It’s okay.” You said, the roiling dizziness that you had felt giving way to bone-deep exhaustion. “It happens. This is a hard spell.” You reassured him. He surveyed you carefully from a few feet away, the newfound tiredness of the location spell evident in the droop of your shoulders, the dimness in your eyes. You gestured to the map. “Where the blood had formed is where Elizabeth is. I don’t know LA that well. If I were you I would go there quickly, she might move somewhere else.” Your voice was hoarse. “Yes.” He drawled, “thank you, dearest.” You smiled weakly up at him, pulling your candles to you and blowing them out before using your magic to encourage the melted wax to harden and stuffing them back in your bag. With a lazy wave of your hand, the blood on your blade was gone, the well of your magic pleading you to let it rest. You pushed yourself to your feet silently. “Whoa.” James darted forwards, catching you under the elbows as your knees gave out when you tired to stand. “Oh dear.” He muttered in your ear as your bag fell from your fingers and your head fell back into his chest. You groaned softly. Fuck. I pushed too hard. You thought as your eyes grew too heavy, your head drooping forwards as your body forced you to sleep, to recuperate. Yes, you had definitely pushed too far. A cold hand settled on your forehead and forced your head back, James’ muttered, “it’s alright, darling. Thank you for helping me,” being the last thing you heard before your body’s demand for sleep pulled you under.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your phone buzzing on the pillow beside your head made you stir. You peeled your tongue from the roof of your mouth, reaching out with a groan and picking up your phone to answer it, bringing it to your ear and mumbling a sleepy “hello”. Cordelia’s voice filled your ear. “Y/n? Are you okay? The hotel rang me and told me you would be back later than expected.” Slight panic sharpened her tone, making you force yourself to sit up. Before you, you saw the table where you had performed the location spell, the map still spread upon it. You remembered the images that James had projected into you with a shiver. A quick glance at the time displayed on your phone notified you that you had only been sleeping for a few hours but had missed your flight. “Erm yeh, I’m fine. I’ll order an Uber and just get the next flight home. I’m fine, Cordelia. I promise.” You softened you tone, knowing how much the Supreme feared losing any of her girls. “Okay, message me when you get in your Uber, okay? I love you.” You smiled. “Love you too.” Hurrying, feeling uncomfortable that you had been left to sleep in this godforsaken building alone, you used the bathroom quickly and then gathered your things. You had made it to the door of the room when you noticed that the low table beside the door had a plate laid out on it, a sandwich and a large glass of water set beside a note. It was written in pretty cursive and read:

“Y/n. I hope you recover quickly. Thank you for your help, little witch. If you find yourself in the area again, please do visit us. JPM.”

You smiled softly, placing the note back down before draining the glass of water and grabbing the sandwich, munching on it as you made your way through the labyrinth of corridors, stomach sighing contentedly as you quickly finished the sandwich off, stepping into the elevator that would take you down to the reception.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

It had been a few weeks since you had made your visit to the Hotel Cortez. Now, you sat at the kitchen table, slowly making your way through your ‘theory of magic’ homework and laughing at a joke Kyle made from across the table when Cordelia strode in.

You looked to her as she said your name. “I have another quest for you,” she began, her mouth quirking up at the corners. “You’re requested at the Hotel Cortez.” You stiffened almost imperceptibly, stomach flipping in either dread or excitement, you couldn’t tell.

“James March requests your company for diner.” She smirked and Kyle let out a laugh as your cheeks reddened. You reached into your pencil case and chucked a pen at him.

“When?” You asked Cordelia who was barely suppressing her laughter.

“Wednesday. And I have already booked you a flight.” Your mouth fell open as she turned on her heel and began to leave. “I suggest you start looking for something spectacular to wear.”

You fell back into your chair as she left, defeated. Kyle was giggling.

Today was Monday. You had two days to find something to wear. You stood suddenly, a combination of terror and excitement knotting in your chest and stalked over to friend. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pulled him up.

“I have two days to find something to wear.” His expression quickly turned from amusement to distaste as he noted the determined gleam in your eyes. “And you’re going to help me.” It was your turn to laugh at his groan as you dragged him from the kitchen and into your room, forcing him to rate each outfit that you pulled from your wardrobe.

#ahs #james patrick march #hotel #hotel cortez #american horror story #coven #reader #cordelia #imagine #witch #magic #liz taylor #the countess

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years

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Short Snippet - Darkstache - Jealous Warfstache!

On the contrary, I was super excited to see the request! Darkstache AND fluff?? Of course I wasn’t gonna pass the opportunity! I hope this works for you. If not, lemme know!

Word count: 808

Today was a special day in Wilford’s calendar. It was Date Day! It was an entire day for Wilford to spend with his precious Dark with ZERO interruptions. No third-wheeling Jims, no emergencies from Dr. Iplier, nothing! He loved them because they were perfect excuses to pamper his beloved with attention and affection. Dark spent so much time working and keeping everyone else in line that there never seemed to be time for Dark to do the things he enjoyed. In this case, Wilford overheard Dark in the break room two days ago, talking to Host about a museum exhibition he was curious about; but knew he would have to miss because of how busy the studio was.

Well, Wilford Warfstache wasn’t going to let such a crime happen under his watch! Even if it took three phone alarms, five written reminders around his office, and a verbal prompt from Bim, he booked tickets and surprised Dark with them! The way that the entity’s face lit up was worth all the reminders. He would never willfully let the chance pass to make Dark happy!

And now… Here they were! In the museum! Exploring the exhibition together!

Getting a personal tour!

From Illinois…

It was a slight spanner in the plan of “time away from everyone who either is considered an ‘ego’ or has an association with them’. Admittedly, the reporter didn't consider the archaeologist would work volunteer shifts in the museum. To his credit, Illinois was genuinely delighted to see the pair and swiftly abandoned his ‘come to me if you have questions’ spot to give the pair a personal tour around the temporary exhibition that had gotten media attention. There was no denying the excitement in Illinois’ voice and the keen interest in the historical topics in Dark’s body language. Even Wilford was enjoying the introduction. He might not be the smartest lightbulb in the toolbox, but he could appreciate someone teaching him new things, and normally he enjoyed Illinois' company!

But as the tour went on, this became the rare exception where the sight of Illinois sullied Wilford’s mood. Illinois had managed a rare thing - he had made Dark laugh. Multiple times! With only some form of witty banter and sharp quips that Wilford didn’t understand! They were too intellectual for him. No matter how he tried to shake off the irritation and enjoy the moment, Illinois would make a smart-assed comment about the objects they were looking at that would make Dark giggle.

Just who did Illinois think he was? Sure, Wilford actively encouraged him to flaunt that flirty, charming side to anyone he met, but that didn't include Wilford's boyfriend!!

With the firm reminder of ‘No, Wilford, you’re leaving the gun at home’, he dug his hands into his pocket and followed the pair.

The impromptu tour came to an end, and Illinois recommended a section dedicated to ancient pottery before he turned and made his way back to reception to resume his post.

"That was an unexpected surprise. I think I learned more than the booklet could have told me." Dark was in good spirits as he took Wilford's hand in his and led the way. "What did you think? Those fossils were something else, weren't they?"

Wilford grunted in response.

"Will? Something wrong?" Dark stepped in front of Wilford with a trace of worry in his voice.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Nothin' ya gotta worry 'bout." A vague answer, but enough of a clue to signal he was lying. Dark knew the pair were in good spirits when they arrived, but Wilford had fallen uncharacteristically quiet when Illinois came along…. Wait a moment.

"Are you and Illinois fighting?"

"What? No. I got nothin' wrong with him an' his stupid humour!" Aha! A sly smile spread on Dark's lips as his suspicion was confirmed.

"You're jealous."

"What? I am not!"

"You think I'm going to run away with the adventurer."

"Poppycock! You wouldn’t -!"

Dark slipped his hand out of Wilford's, turning his back on the other with a thoughtful hum. "I didn't think it was possible for Wilford Warfstache to get jealous of someone taking my attention like that. Oh, but he did make me laugh more than others would, now that I think about it." He faced Wilford again, noting the childish pout on Wilford's face. "You know I'm not going to leave you, right?"

Wilford grumbled, folding his arms so tightly that it made his shoulders rise a fraction.

"And you know that no matter who makes me laugh, you're always my burst of sunshine on a rainy day, right?" Dark put a hand on Wilford's arm.

"... Right." Wilford's expression brightened a little when Dark kissed his cheek.

"Come on, you big grump. Let's enjoy the rest of our date. No more guided tours. Just the two of us, like we promised."

#darkstache #writersofmark #darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #illinois ahwm #(I swear you'd think I hate him with how I keep writing him but he was too perfect for the situation!)#(also I hope you're having a wonderful day; anon!)#Rose Petals (Wilford)#Cracked Mirror (Dark)#(this Dark loves one (1) himbo)

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years

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Mistletoe

@elliestormfound hit me with this delightful ask “hi! I have a prompt for you: what if everyone knows that Geralt and Jaskier are dating except for Geralt and Jaskier because they are idiots? What if it is around christmas and all their friends hang mistletoe everywhere to get them to kiss finally?? sorry, I got too excited :D“ and it was just the thing my brain needed to decompress today apparently? So here’s 1.7k of my stress relief?

Warnings: k-kissing? christmas-ish? banter? swear words? a silent auction for an animal shelter? its in a barn? idk fam i think this one is pretty tame?

__________

“Geralt I can send Lambert in five minutes. You need to go home and shower.” Jaskier’s voice was exasperated over the truck speaker, having already told Geralt three times today that he couldn’t be late for his own fundraiser.

Geralt sighed and switched his blinker, heading away from the large animal pickup call and towards his house, “Have him take Eskel. I think we’ve been called there before.”

“Oh, so you were fine going alone even though you tell everyone else not to? Great. I swear to every god, Geralt. If someone shoots you over taking their animal away I will revive you only to kill you slowly with my bare hands.”

“Jask, I’m fine-”

“Yes. I know,” Jaskier lowered his voice and Geralt could picture him waving his hands and tilting his head this way and that like he always did when he mocked him, “I’m Geralt. I’m big and scary and love animals so much I’ll throw myself into dangerous situations without thought because I’m a selfish and impulsive cock.”

“Ok-AY. I see your point. I’m on my way home.”

“Good. Wear the green shirt so you don’t blend into the backdrop.”

Four hours and an obligatory ‘thank you for coming, please give us money, look at all these cute animals’ speech, Geralt was finally free to have a drink and relax. Well, mostly. He still had to be professional and courteous, but Jaskier did all the schmoozing on the part of the shelter. The majority of his time at these events was spent following Jaskier around like a lost puppy. Geralt did what he needed to, told stories when asked and supplied the facts when Jaskier went a little heavy on the emotional pleas, but he took a backseat for anything that included other people. They made a great team and Geralt tried not to think about it. No point in dwelling on what you can’t have, right?

Geralt did think about how many drink tickets Lambert had been handing out as he noticed more and more couples kissing. Come to think of it, he was quite sure Melissa and Adam had divorced last year…

He kept noticing it as Jaskier led him around the silent auction tables and nearly lost his ‘easy going host’ mask when someone shuffled up and planted a wet one on the person he was talking to.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and pointed up at his chin, making Geralt frown and rub at his own, thinking he’d missed a spot shaving. Jaskier bit his lip in a failed attempt to hide a smile and looked where he was pointing. Geralt followed, and to his horror, most of the ceiling in the barn had little bundles of mistletoe hanging.

There was one at every doorway, three by the food, a few over auction tables, one over every stall door, one on every support beam over the breezeway, and worst of all, one right over the table Geralt and the team were seated at.

“Ah! Geralt, I forgot to have you sign something before you left the office.” Jaskier clapped him on the shoulder and jarred him out of his thousand yard stare as he led him away, “Excuse us.”

“The fuck is with all the mistletoe?” Geralt practically sputtered as they crunched their way across the frozen driveway, picking up the pace to get into the heated office as quick as possible.

Jaskier shrugged, “Bert probably just wanted to up his chances of getting laid.”

Geralt set his drink down on the reception counter and plopped down in Jaskier’s chair, “Sounds like him. What did you have for me to sign?”

“Hm?” Jaskier leaned against the desk facing Geralt, eyeing his fingers drumming on the mouse pad Geralt had given him for the secret santa last year. Geralt did it every time he came into the office for more than five minutes. He’d steal Jask’s seat and tap at it, or lean over his shoulder as he was typing away and rap it with his knuckles when he left. It wasn’t extravagant by any means, it was just a picture of Geralt, Ciri, and Jaskier mimicking Roach ‘smiling’ in the background with her top lip folded back over her nostrils. But it was the closest Geralt ever came to telling Jaskier how he felt, settling instead for a shy ‘Ciri thought it was cute’ and an awkward hug.

“You said I needed to sign something?”

Jaskier blinked a few times and refocused on Geralt, “Oh, no. You just looked like you needed a minute.”

Geralt slumped down farther into the chair, “Thank you.”

Jaskier fiddled with the shiny buttons on his blazer, talking a little too fast to be entirely comfortable, “Oh this is completely self serving. You’re difficult to handle when you get ‘out-peopled’.”

“So you’re my handler now?” Geralt griped, a bit of sarcasm sneaking out with his words.

“Something like that,” Jaskier huffed, glancing up at Geralt through the hair falling in his eyes.

Geralt’s breath caught in his throat and he was suddenly more nervous than he’d been before his speech. He slapped his thighs and heaved a dramatic sigh before standing up, “We should probably get back.”

Jaskier looked up at him, a few inches lower than he usually stood while he sat against the desk. Geralt caught his eyes flickering up and his jaw clench as he tried to pretend he’d seen nothing. Following his gaze he froze.

A massive bunch of mistletoe was hung right above their heads, truly it was a miracle they’d missed it before.

Jaskier set his drink down next to him on the desk and whispered, “There’s no one else here…”

Geralt looked down at him, tilting his head and furrowing his brows as he tried to figure out what that had anything to do with….

His heartbeat picked up as he caught on to Jaskier’s subtle suggestion, “Totally alone,” he breathed.

His agreement hung in the air much like the mistletoe above their heads, taunting and almost permission giving, but not quite enough.

After making eye contact for far too long to be considered professional or friendly, Jaskier pushed off of the desk and for once, Geralt didn’t step back to give him space. They could rock forward onto their toes and their noses would touch and Geralt’s heart was absolutely racing, leaving his brain somewhere in the dust.

“You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?” Jaskier’s breath tickled at Geralt’s throat, not close enough to be warm, but it gave him goose flesh all the same.

“Ask what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Geralt let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, a hesitant but relieved smile spreading on his face as he nodded. Jaskier licked his lips and rested a hand on Geralt’s cheek and the other on his waist. Geralt thought he felt him shaking a bit but soon forgot all about it as he rested his own hands on Jaskier’s hips and the moment felt real. He swallowed his nerves down and leaned in just a fraction of an inch, letting Jaskier guide their lips together with the hand at his jaw. His eyes fluttered closed when he felt Jaskier’s hot breath on his lips and he was praying he wouldn’t faint before their lips even touched.

But when they finally did, it was heaven.

Just a gentle press of skin to skin at first, careful and sweet, and the butterflies wreaking havoc on Geralt’s stomach rose to his chest. Gods, it was unreal the way such a simple kiss could undo him like this but here he was, so overwhelmed that if he didn’t do something with his hands he might cry. He slid one hand to the small of Jaskier’s back and pulled him flush to his body, pressing forward with his lips and searching for more of whatever that drug making him feel so light and warm was. Jaskier mirrored him, wrapping his arm farther around his waist and moving his other hand to the nape of his neck to pull him closer still. Geralt let his tongue dart out across Jaskier’s lips and chuckled in surprise when Jaskier countered with enthusiasm, taking over immediately.

As he pulled away, Jaskier ran the tip of his tongue over the roof of Geralt’s mouth making him let out a shaky breath and shudder.

Geralt’s eyes snapped open and he pressed his tongue to the spot, wrinkling his nose before laughing softly, “That tickled.”

“Mhm,” Jaskier nodded and smiled, brushing his thumb over Geralt’s cheek as he searched his eyes.

“Can we do that again?” Geralt breathed, moving a hand from Jaskier’s hip to between his shoulder blades.

Whatever he found in his inspection, Jaskier seemed satisfied, if not elated, “Hell yes.”

Moments later, while their lips were most pleasantly locked together, Lambert and Yennefer burst through the door yelling.

“Fucking finally!” and “No! They didn’t say it! I didn’t lose! I don’t owe you shit!”

Jaskier jumped and made to step away, but Geralt kept him close, pulling him to his side but away from the door.

Yen grinned at them and held out a palm to Lambert, “Pay up, bitch. They’re positively head over heels.”

“What the hell guys?” Geralt snapped, more than a little on edge and embarrassed.

Lambert grumbled as he pulled his money clip out of his slacks, “This witch slipped you a love potion and swindled me out of a nice bottle of gin.”

Yennefer preened and plucked the money out of his hand, “No such thing as magic, dear,” she cooed and tucked the money in her bra before addressing Geralt and Jaskier, “It’s almost time to call the auction and people are starting to notice you’re gone.”

Jaskier smoothed Geralt’s hair back over his shoulder, “We can talk about it later, yeah?” His voice was soft and soothing, tempering Geralt’s usual reaction to Yen bossing him around to a mild eye roll.

He looked down at Jaskier and kissed his forehead before grabbing his hand and heading for the door, “I’d love to.”

They talked about it over pumpkin pie at Jaskier’s place after the event. Well… talked might not be the right word…

#i am so sleep deprived but my brain said no sleep till geraskier so #do i need all the beginning exposition? prolly not #does it bring me joy thinking about Jaskier being the aggressive mother hen secretary/switchboard operator for the bois? yes.#geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier christmas #geraskier first kiss #geraskier mistletoe #geraskier modern au #geralt runs an animal shelter #animal rescue geralt #its a vibe #thanks goob squad for the idea #it shall live rent free in my head forevermore #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher christmas

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Confidentiality - Chapter 2: The Meeting

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: A little jealous Jensen, flangst when you squint

WC: 1644

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

On Saturday, Y/N’s waiting at the arrivals with the driver. It’s not usually their job to pick up talents from the airport but during dinner last night her boss received a call and disappeared for a few minutes.

It was only this morning that she received a message from her boss that she should please go with the driver to pick up Jensen at the airport.

She has a strong feeling that Jensen’s had something to do with it but her messages and calls that she made to him today went unanswered.

He knows exactly why he didn’t pick up the phone and it drives her fucking nuts!

Standing there, with her arms crossed over her chest, she chews on her gum irritatedly.

It’s about five minutes of waiting in awkward silence until Jensen walks out, rolling his little suitcase behind him. Wearing simple jeans and a hoodie, he hides his hair behind a baseball cap but she can see that he hadn’t cut it, nor had he shaved his beard. She’d like to think it’s because she said that she shouldn’t get rid of it just yet. Her heart does that weird little thing, tripping and all, but she’s keeping her emotions in check. She’s still annoyed and she should remember that.

“Hey!” He greets both of them with the brightest smile.

If he noticed that she’s annoyed, he did his best to ignore it because he smiles down at her, “Y/N, nice seeing you again,” and pulls her into a friendly hug. He smells so good, it’s not fair to her because she’s upset at him and should not let him entice her.

Jensen moves away from her but lets his hand linger at her lower back for a fraction too long before greeting the driver. It’s invisible for the outside eyes but she knows.

The driver leads the way to the limousine and the two of them trail behind.

“You did this, didn’t you?” she mumbles.

“Did what?” he too, keeps his voice low.

“Made me come pick you up.”

“Is that a crime?” he asks while he cocks an eyebrow.

“No, but it’s not my job! Don’t you think it’ll raise suspicion?”

“Relax, babe, nothing’s going to happen this weekend, okay? I can be professional, can you?”

They stop at the limousine as the driver loads Jensen’s suitcase into the trunk and walks to the front to start the motor.

Jensen bends down then when there are no eyes on them, kisses her quick but rough, teeth biting into her bottom lip, making her squeal out in delight. Before she can even get worried that she’s being too loud, he is kissing her again, swallowing the sounds she makes.

When he parts, he smiles down at her, it’s super cocky, “Can you, huh?”

“Is that a challenge?” she asks, not quite trusting him.

“It can be,” he shrugs.

“No funny business while we work together, Jensen.”

“None.”

“I think I’ll win,” she grins.

“Oh, we’ll see,” he pecks her lips once more before walking to the front, “Come on, it’s not nice to let the driver wait.”

They drop him off at the hotel and Jensen’s really surprised that she said that she’s not going to stay. She’s booked into another hotel, closer to the convention center.

“Why?” he asks as she walks to the reception with him.

“I’m working, Jensen, being professional, remember?”

There’s a sigh with an eyeroll and she chuckles.

They checked him in and she walks him to the elevator while she tells him about his schedule for tomorrow, “The driver will pick you and Jared up at 8 AM, be ready, okay?”

“What’s the first thing?”

“Your gold panel, as usual,” she says with a shrug, “Any other questions?”

“Yeah,” he says and bends down, nose brushing against the shell of her ear, “What should I do with my hard cock?”

She grins as he stands up again, and he presses his lips into a thin line, smirking a little. Still grinning, she stands up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear, “You have a hand and I’m sure the hotel provides those tiny fancy moisturizers.”

Standing back on her heels, she looks up at him and winks while he frowns.

“Good night, Jensen,” Y/N turns around to leave and waves at him one last time, sees him shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

Back in her hotel, she makes herself bed ready, and has taken a rain check on the team’s night out because she hates to be hungover the next morning when she has to work. The farewell drinks set for Sunday Night, she can do and will do.

Once settled in bed, there’s already a text on her phone.

J: Going out with Jared, maybe I’ll find another girl to help me out with the hard thing in my pants

Y/N: Good luck, don’t drink too much.

J: There’s no one stopping me? And no comment on the girl?

Y/N: You’re working from 8 AM - 9 PM, that should be enough reason. And it’s not like we’re exclusive. You’re allowed to do whatever you want. And who knows, maybe I have someone in my bed right now?

That’s true. They’re not anything, to be honest. Just two people who enjoy each other’s company. She never went into this wanting more, because she knows that it is probably not going to happen, so she’s trying not to let her feelings interfere with what they have. Even though living with Jensen was hard for her feelings. She got to know him better, got to know his little quirks. Even though they annoy her sometimes, she thinks that she would be able to make it work because she’s able to look past them, work her way around things that exasperate her the most about him. In any case, it’s totally unfair that there isn’t really much to be bothered about. She bets she has more things that annoy him but he doesn’t seem to mind them either.

J: Do you?

Y/N: Good night, Jensen.

J: Do I have to come over?

Y/N: No, go out with Jared.

J: I can’t if I don’t know who’s with you.

Her heart’s picking up speed. Jensen’s jealous. That’s a first. Well, he never had to worry about it since he was the only man around her for four fucking months! She kind of likes it, can’t lie about that.

Y/N: Listen, I’m going to set my phone aside. Good night.

Y/N hates hotel beds, it’s really not the same like sleeping at home and she tosses and turns. It was the same last night, too. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s because she’s alone. She was holed up with Jensen for almost four months, shared a bed with him, with his warm body next to hers. Maybe she just misses the closeness. She wonders how it’ll be once they go back to normal, wonders how her nights will turn out once she gets back to her own apartment, and sleeps in her own bed. Alone. Because that’s what’s going to happen eventually. As she said, they aren’t anything and they won’t be.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of tossing and turning, she eventually finds a comfortable position to be in and is slowly drifting off to sleep when there’s a sharp knock at her door.

Her head shoots up and she frowns, “Who is it?”

“Room service!” the man on the other side calls out.

It’s ridiculous really, to be yelling room service when she knows exactly who it is. She’d recognize the voice anywhere.

She gets up and walks over to the door, opens it up with annoyance, but only enough to let her head peek through, “You should not be here.”

Jensen’s eyes widen, “Wow, I’m happy to see you too.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Go, I want to sleep.”

“I just want to say good night.”

“Sure,” she chuckles, “You wanted to check if I’m spending a night with some other dude.”

“No?” He frowns and she looks at him with that cocked eyebrow. Looks at him so long until he caves, “Fine! Yeah, I wanted to see.”

“There’s nobody here.” she whispers, because she remembered that they have to be quiet.

“Yeah, no, open the door,” Jensen asks firmly. That’s one of his little quirks, he’s thorough.

Reluctantly, she opens the door wider and her bed comes into view, “Are you happy now?”

He takes a step in further, walks to the bathroom, and she has to roll her eyes so hard, her head hurts.

“Do you really think I’m hiding someone in my bathroom?” she hisses out from the doorway.

Jensen comes out, and walks back to the door, “I like to be thorough,” he shrugs, as if that explains it all. His hand comes up to brush the knuckles against her face, fingertips trailing along her throat down to the collar of her shirt, “That’s my shirt,” he chuckles and hooks one finger into the collar, tugging it, “I was wondering where it went.”

“Yeah, it somehow landed in my suitcase,” she says, hoping that he doesn’t see the color rising up to her cheeks. It’s not even a lie, she slept in it the night before she left, so she just kind of packed it without even thinking.

“Good night, Y/N,” Jensen bends down, kisses her cheek, his beard prickles against her skin.

And it’s crazy how a cheek kiss can affect her. She’s getting all warm and fuzzy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she swallows hard as he parts, and it takes everything in her not to fling herself at him.

Jensen nods before he walks along the corridor to the elevator, winks at her one last time.

Chapter 3

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#confidentiality #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jesen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fan fic #jensen ackles fan fiction #nathalie writes

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