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cas-backwards-tie · 1 year

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Chapter Three: Memories Embarked

Heiress of Gotham

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Runaway plan going sideways, will a visit home profit, or encourage further mourning? Revelations, keepsakes, suspicions, and more are brought back when you finally return.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Grief, Guns, Insults, Exclusion, Embarrassment, Crying,

Mentions of: Drugs, Sex, Crime, Yelling, Domestic Violence, Robbery, Secrets, Poverty, Unbelonging, Funeral Arrangements

Bruce hadn't been keen on revealing details about the girl's mother. Sure, he let them know there was nothing mysterious about her death, but that's about it. From her words at dinner, Jason could tell she didn't grow up wealthy by any means, but he wasn't expecting this. Sure, it's not as bad as Crime Alley, but it's definitely not the kind of place he'd want to raise a kid. Let alone a place he could imagine someone growing up in.

Following her up the flights of stairs to the sixth floor, he's surprised when she whips out the key from her jacket's pocket like she'd been planning on this. He guesses she had. Still, part of him anticipated the teenager having forgotten the key and having to wind up kicking the door in.

"Just in here," you announce, pushing the key into its keyhole.

Climbing the last few stairs, Jason notices how your body language appears much more relaxed than at the table in the Manor, earlier. It's somewhat hard to ignore the sound of people fucking you'd passed on the fourth floor, then there's the yelling, the loud televisions, the smell of weed, and the sirens down the street. Yet, you seem entirely unfazed.

He watches as you enter, slipping off your Converse at the door. He follows suit, unlacing his boots and stepping out of them to be respectful. With a swift hand, he closes and locks the door behind you two. Backpack tossed onto the couch, he watches as you go over and turn the television off. Why was it even on? Hadn't your mother died? Was someone in here? Were you expecting someone? The casual nature in your behavior is eerie, nonetheless, he traces along the walls of the room, taking in everything.

"It's so people think we're home," you reveal, "the tv. You looked confused." With quick feet, you head down the hallway. It's curious that you come back with a bowl, however, he easily puts two and two together as he spots little fish painted around the circumference of it. You walk into the kitchen, nonchalantly tossing the bowl onto the counter before opening the fridge. The light within illuminates your face and it's only a matter of seconds before you're placing some sort of leftovers from a white styrofoam container into the bowl and heading back down the hallway. When you don't come back, he follows where you'd gone.

"I know that this will be hard, but it's for the best! Plus, I know Mrs. Garcia won't be missing you more than me," you whisper, upper body leaning out onto the fire escape's landing. Eyes trailing past you, he finds a fluffy white cat just outside, happily purring and eating whatever it was you'd laid before him. Without turning to look, you speak up, voice no longer holding the soft and sweet sentiment it just held for the animal. "It's our upstairs neighbor's cat. She doesn't really take the best care of him, so I feed him sometimes." With a last sentiment spared toward the feline, you close the window and lock it. Good, hopefully, the others are already locked, he thinks.

"So you can't keep him. That's too bad," Jason remarks, false sympathy in his voice as he eyes the knick-knacks on your dresser. At least, he assumes, considering the very colorful nature of the room and the stuffed animals on the bed. "Damian is a sucker when it comes to animals. Would've been a good way to bond with him," he teases.

"This is my room. I'll just be a minute! I need to check a few things and… then we can go." You started confident, but he could tell that this was painful for you. The thought of leaving again. Eyes unmoving from his, he watches as you shyly tuck a strand of your bangs behind your ear before he nods and starts to let himself back out into the hall. Hand catching on the door, he holds onto it as he decides to ask, rather than rummage through the entire apartment.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" This time it's you who's surprised as he observes the way you give him a strange look.

"Um… yeah, why, do you need it?" Despite the question, you're already moving toward him, then around and past as you make your way back to the kitchen. Up within a cabinet, Jason watches as you struggle to reach it on your tiptoes. While he's not that close with you and knows some people prefer doing things themself, he doesn't like to watch people struggle. Just as he closes the steps between you to grab it, you let out a proud exclamation and gently cradle it on the descent. "Did you cut yourself or something?"

"Actually no, but I noticed you did. You can't just let it stay like that," he argues. The look on your face sends him racing to beat you to the punch. Before you can protest, he adds, "If anything I'm not letting you leave here without patching that up. I'm not getting more blood and who knows what else on my shirt or jacket." He doesn't miss the glare you shoot him, but he doesn't acknowledge it either.

Sliding the kit out from under your hand on the counter, he opens it to retrieve a bandage and some antibiotic ointment. With a gesture of his head, you turn your palm face up to reveal a few scrapes, some having elicited blood though it all looks dried by now, and a few tiny splinters lodged into the skin. He'd ask you to take them out, but you're already on top of it, preparing your hand as he unscrews the cap on the ointment. Within a minute, you're all patched up, no argument, no complaints; an easy job, really.

"I'll stay in here, I guess. Get your stuff and then we're outta here, alright?" Jason suggests. You seem content enough with this as you nod in his direction before heading back toward your room.

Essentials. Essentials… what even are essentials? Hastily grabbing your bag of hair ties, your hair brush, deodorant, and some of your more important clothing items: bras, panties, and sleeping shirts, you toss them into your bag. With those out of the way, really, what else should you bring? Immediately your eyes are drawn to the shelf of books, movies, and other collections of items within. Crouching before it, you grab your photo album. You can't forget your favorite bear, the one your aunt had gifted you when you were born. With his head sticking out of the bag as he won't fit any further into it, you decide that apart from one final task, all that's left is the other two rooms: your mother's and the bathroom.

Emptying your piggy bank into your backpack, you pull the door open and head into her room. Luckily, Jason seems occupied snooping through the living room. With an unnecessary urgency, you pull the mattress away from the headboard and round the bed. You crawl up to the pillows, tossing them aside before you lift the corner of the bedsheet. It looks untouched, but that doesn't mean it wasn't. There's a six-inch cut in the mattress; it's easy to miss if you're not looking, but you've known about it since you were eight and caught your mom stashing her last paycheck's worth of money inside. With searching hands you feel around inside. One stack after another is produced from the hiding spot. Altogether, there are stacks of at least, if you had to guess… maybe fifteen, sixteen bundles of hundreds on the bed.

Upon hurriedly transferring the cash from your mother's room into your backpack you'd stupidly left in your room, you're met with Jason's form at the end of the hallway on the last trip. Stacks of hundreds cradled in your arm, your eyes widen. "Where'd you-"

"It's not what it looks like!" You defend. He calls your name in a stern tone, yet you only offer him a Cheshire smile and evade him into your room, placing the last of the bundles inside. "They're mine! Okay? My mom's."

"But h-"

"-She-we don't really trust the banks, okay? Let's keep it at that." Unwilling to part with it, you sling the almost-closed backpack onto one shoulder before walking toward the door. He blocks it.

"I just have to get a few more things and I'm ready, alright?" The hopefulness in your voice does nothing to wipe the disconcerted look from his face.

"I can't just not tell Bruce about this, kid," he warns, a look you can only guess is akin to disappointment on his face. Slipping under his arm and out the door into the hallway, you head back to her room.

"That's fine! But it's still my money. It's everything she ever worked for, and I'm not giving it to him." Upon reentering your mother's room, you stop in the doorway. Sure, the mattress and pillows are askew from your manhandling, but something feels off. Eyes darting to her desk, the top drawer is open, along with some of the side drawers not fully closed. Dresser drawers halfway open with some sock couplings on the floor, it's clear. "Someone's been here," you whisper. Heart jumping in your chest at Jason's proximity, standing just behind you, your hand holds your chest.

"You mean before we got here? How do you know?" He asks. Eyes taking in the space, Jason puts on his detective hat. It's certainly messy, but he'd also just seen you come from this room. Either you're trying to pull something right now, or… he's not sure, yet, but he'll figure it out. He'll figure you out.

"I just know! She never leaves her room like this, and-" pushing at his chest when he doesn't move, you poke your head back in the hallway before ducking under his arm again and running to the dresser. Stashing your mother's jewelry box and perfume into your backpack, you turn and are about to head out of the room when you spot something. A framed photo on her desk of the two of you: it'd been a photo from your trip to Gotham. It was a Christmas present you'd gifted her that year since you didn't really have any photos up of the two of you in your house.

Frame in hand, you stare lovingly at the photo for a moment before a look of determination crosses your features again. Stuffing it in your backpack, you squeeze past Jason into the hallway. Your baby pictures, junior-high graduation photos, and other mementos hung on the wall are mostly untouched, yet at least two photos are askew on the wall. In the hallway bathroom, there's only your makeup bag and skincare that you can take. There are already bathing supplies at the Manor. "If you've ever met a Latina Mom, you'd know that she doesn't keep our house like this! Everything is square and perfect, put away. The only thing that was messy when I left was the kitchen and that was because of breakfast," you inform him. Unloading the backpack from your shoulder onto the couch, you properly zip it up before slugging it over your back again. "I'm ready." If someone really had been here, it's best not to stick around if they decide to come back.

------

While Jason had texted Bruce informing him of your whereabouts upon arrival, he couldn't bring himself to text anything else before the both of you arrived back at the Manor. You'd thanked the man you suppose is your older brother, before departing upstairs with Alfred. And while Bruce had made a move to talk to you, your dismissal was evident in your preference to the contrary. "We need to talk," Jason announces.

"Do you still have it?" Bruce asks, a look of concern upon his features. While both Jon and Clark had gone home soon after your departure, and both Timothy and Stephanie had gone out on patrol, Bruce kept Dick and Damian back. In the event they're all needed, they'll be there, but he'd wanted to have someone around while awaiting your return. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone right now, but he won't admit to that.

"Of course. I wasn't letting her keep that! God knows teenagers don't need guns," Jason grumbles. Reaching around himself, he lifts his shirt to dig the gun out of the back of his waistband.

"Hey! Speak for yourself. I can handle a gun," Damian argues, arms crossing his chest as he stands his ground. "I've been doing target practice since I was two."

"Anyway, she had… at least half a dozen in her arms when I caught her, but who knows how much she really has in her bag! She wouldn't let me touch it."

"So we're talking thousands, then?" Dick asks, hands in his pockets as he leans against the railing in the Batcave. "Shit," he whispers to himself. Hair falling into his face as he looks down at his shoes still processing all of this, his lips screwing in thought.

"At least! And that's not to mention that she insisted someone had 'visited' before us. I checked the locks, and, everything was sound. It was a mess, but, if anyone broke in, it had to be someone with a key. It didn't seem like anything had been taken," Jason expands.

"So what're we thinking? She was dealing?" Dick asks with a thoughtful expression on his features. He finally raises his gaze to meet the group's eyes.

"She has to know something," Damian accuses. Crossing his arms over his chest, the boy's eyebrows are set as he looks more than perturbed by all the information. He'd had a bad feeling about her from the get-go, but this is far beyond anything he had in mind. At least, aside from the really fantastical theories he'd concocted.

"There's no record of criminal history. I'll have to see if this is even registered, and if it's to her mother. I'll look into it," Bruce informs, taking the gun into his possession before walking over to the computer. "Until we find anything, we have to assume that it was a fluke. There was nothing unordinary about this, and I already told you that I don't want anyone digging into this!"

"Bruce, I-" Jason speaks up, a sympathetic feeling in his chest. He can only imagine how this situation has been affecting him. An unknown child suddenly dropped in his hands at the death of a previous lover? And now said child is showing distaste for you? Rough.

"What did I say, Jason?" Bruce barks.

"I only thought you'd want to know! I didn't do any digging, and I'm not going to. Got it? All I did was take a crying girl home, and help her grab some of the things she needs! God knows you wouldn't do it. Besides, she has a lot more that should be moved either into-"

"-storage or here. I know. I'm dealing with it! I told you I've got this covered. If you don't remember, I've been around this ballpark once or twice," Bruce chastizes. Placing the gun under a mirrored device, a red beam shoots out and scans the weapon. Blue eyes stuck to the computers, he reads over whatever report the device is producing.

With a huff of annoyance, Jason swipes his helmet off the nearby metal table and angrily slides it on. Walking away, he only turns back to leave them with one last note: "And for the record, I like her. She's a feisty little thing. Has got a lot more spunk than some of the others around here," he teases, eyes glaring at the two brothers still standing by the ledge murmuring to one another conspiratorily.

"So what's our plan?" Dick asks, ignoring the insults as he turns along with Damian to speak with Bruce.

All the money set up in nice little stacks against the wall underneath and toward the top of your bed, you'd placed your piggy bank on your dresser along with the photo of you and your Mom. Bear propped up to sit against the pillow you don't use, it elicits a faint smile. Jewelry box and perfume add a touch of femininity, and the rest of your items were put into your private bathroom. It's still hard to believe you have one, always having wanted one. It's not until you change into pajamas that you lie on the bed and unlock your phone, hoping to respond to some of the messages you've gotten in the past twenty-four hours.

Of course, your best friend Daisha is worried. Informing her of the situation, it doesn't take long to get back an astonished response. Granted, you'd been the same way yesterday, too. She asks what Wayne Manor is like, and how things are going. Soon, she realizes through text that you really only want to talk about the cool new things in the Manor, so you both revel over all the fancy features you've only found through exploration today. Who knows what else is in store? There's way too much to explore in just one day, and really, you hadn't done much exploring considering you had school and then cried almost all afternoon.

It's only when Daisha's gone to bed and you've been scrolling through memes for far longer than you should have that there are three knocks on your bedroom door. "Come in," you call, expecting Alfred to come in and tell you that you should be sleeping at this hour instead of being awake. He seems like the type to do so. After getting back, he'd informed you of everyone's worry and concern for you, only wanting the best. You'd talked for a while, but overall he eventually dismissed himself with the excuse of more work to be done tonight.

When the door slowly opens, you find it's Bruce juggling two teacups, and a dog at his heels. You know who it is after this afternoon. "Oh! No. Ace, stay out here," he asserts with a wobbly voice as his eyes stay glued to the unsteady teacups.

"It's okay," you assure. At this information, the door swings open wider and the dog pads over to you. Sitting by the edge of your bed, you reach out to pet him. "Hi Ace," you greet, hand brushing over his soft and short fur. "Did you come to check up on me?" You whisper to him with a gentleness that you're sure anyone observing would be baffled by considering he looks intimidating and scary.

"I wanted to talk, and before you say 'no' or tell me to 'get out', just know it's not to argue. I came to apologize," Bruce explains, seating himself at the edge of your bed a few feet from where you sit cross-legged. When you don't say anything, a sigh escapes him, and he holds out one teacup. "I thought you might like some tea before bed."

"How did you know I was awake? Or that I like tea?" You question, eyes shifting from his down to the fancy porcelain cup filled with a yellowish liquid. Taking it into your hands, you let yourself hold onto it, the comforting warmth seeping through the cup and into your palms.

"What happened?" Bruce immediately asks, concern evident in his voice as he notices your palm. "I saw the light from under the door and figured… plus who doesn't like a little chamomile before bed?" He attempts a smile, which you return with an inkling of one. At least he's not yelling at you for your outburst, you figure. "I wasn't sure how you take it, so I didn't put anything in it." It's only after a second that you realize he means milk and sugar.

Contemplating if you're really up for whatever you're sure this discussion will entail right now, it's only once you notice Ace walk in a circle before curling up and lying down that you concede. "I… fell and scraped my hand," you reveal. It's not entirely a lie, you just didn't mention the tree involved. "I just…" you're unsure how to explain why you did it, what came over you, "I'm sorry." His blue eyes stare back at you with a look you're unable to place. Suddenly, he's placing his teacup, then yours, onto the nightstand and enveloping you in a hug.

"You don't have to apologize." His voice rumbles deep in his chest and while you're taken aback at first, he doesn't let up. "I'm just glad you're okay," he says your name with a care that you hadn't realized was there before. Though the strength of his hug partially has you feeling like you'll die of asphyxiation, you bear it. It happens automatically, and despite your best efforts to keep it at bay, the tears come. "I should've talked to you sooner. I realize this is all a big change and I didn't even stop to think about how you'd feel in all this." While he talks you think he finally notices your shaking shoulders as his voice eventually dies down and he retracts from the hug. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I should've asked if you were okay with a hug, I just-"

"It's okay," you respond, voice coming out quieter than you'd anticipated, a shakiness you can't cloak within it. "I just… I didn't get to bring anything, and I didn't feel at home, and…" As your voice fades with your thoughts, he speaks up.

"-I know, and you deserve your things. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, we'll get. We can get some movers to help us get your things from the apartment if you want, either tomorrow or by the end of this week."

"I'm just embarrassed because I didn't mean to make a scene! I… no one deserved that, and-"

"-yes they did." His chuckle surprises you and leaves you taken aback as you stare up at him with incredulity. "I mean, maybe not the viciousness about the BPD and all, as Dick has been trying his best to be supportive, but him and Damian together? Well… they can be troublemakers, I'll say that much. Damian was being rude to you, it's only fair you express how you feel about it. He'll only listen that way, unfortunately. It's something we're working on."

"You're not mad at me?" You whisper, suddenly feeling like the little girl with pigtails in a dress your Mom picked out, crying and praying that you won't get a worse punishment for admitting your fault rather than playing dumb.

"Mad? No. Just… upset with myself, and disappointed that you didn't feel like you could've come to me sooner, and perhaps in a more private setting." The look on your face must say something, considering he continues. "Look, you're not the first kid to curse me out in front of everyone, and I'm sure you won't be the last. Okay? As long as you're okay and you feel welcome and at home here, that's all I care about. Alright?" A big hand on your shoulder, he stares into your eyes with a tacit question. When it seems he's got the answer he's looking for, his shoulders sag a bit and he seems to breathe a little more easily. "What did you even bring back? Can I see?"

Before you can respond, you find his eyes have landed on the photo album you left on the bed in front of your teddy bear. You'd wanted to look at it before going to bed, and it seems now is the best excuse to. "It's my photo album. I know my Mom has more, but, she gave me a bunch of the photos I liked in hers and let me make my own. Do… you want to look at it?" You ask tentatively. He nods, and you grab the album, shifting and taking it into your lap as you move the teddy bear into the middle of the pillows. With a pat beside you where both the album and teddy had been, he scoots backward further onto the bed until he's where you'd patted.

"I know that I haven't been a part of your life, and I know that it was your Mom's decision… and while none of us expected to wind up here, I hope I can--that you'll allow me--to be a part of your life going forward," again, your name falls from his lips. Leaning back against the plush pillows, you point to the lamp on the other bedside table.

"Could you turn that on?" You ask. Doing as you'd said, the second light helps brighten your little area in the grand room. "You're already a part of my life," you point out with a small smile on your face, "but I hope I can get to know you better. The real Bruce Wayne, not just… playboy billionaire Wayne Enterprises, Gotham's most loved celebrity." A teasing smile sits on your lips as amusement fills your chest. Bringing the album into your lap, you flip open the book.

"I hope so too," he agrees, before chuckling uncomfortably, a nervous hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "I don't know about that, but… the real me, I can definitely do." As the book opens, his attention suddenly shifts and he's more engaged, curiosity overtaking as he leans in and examines each photo with intent.

An explanation follows every picture you can remember the pretense of, which isn't too many in the beginning where all your baby photos are. Though as the photos become more and more recent you tell stories, finding that he's actually listening and asking questions, trying to get to know more about the little family you had. Eventually, you both retake your teacups and continue to look at the photos which now sit in the album atop the comforter before both of your laps. Backs hunched over, teacups delicately held in one hand, the other cupping the bottom of it, you two unintentionally mirror the other. The resemblance to an outsider is uncanny, there's no question to Bruce's fatherhood.

Once the album is gone through and you've shown him "Teddy" of course, the beloved bear you'd been gifted at birth. What a unique name, you know… but in your defense you were two when you named him. The Gotham Trip photo's story also told, you simply list the rest of the belongings you'd brought… omitting the cash, of course.

"It's getting late. You should get ready for bed. I decided that you deserve the rest of the week off school. It was too soon to push you into it, and if you're going to help me with the rest of the arrangements then you'll be a bit busy." A surprised, and then excited and appreciative look overtakes your expression, Bruce holding a smile on his lips.

"Thank you! Thank you! You don't know how much this means to me," you cry, hugging him for a moment before sitting back. "I mean… I'm not excited to have to do this… but," your voice takes on a quieter and more serious tone again, "I think it's important I do this. She's my mom, you know?"

"I know," he responds, lips pinched.

"I'll call the school first thing in the morning. But try and get some sleep, please. I know that it'll take some adjusting and getting used to, but I hope you can one day call this home, too," he admits. With another pat on the shoulder, the tall man stands from your bed and pulls the string on the farthest bedside lamp to shut it off. The sound of shuffling by the dresser signals Ace's rise as he trails after the man. "Goodnight."

"Okay, and I will! Goodnight." You're almost half-tempted to say his first name like the others, and while you'd previously been calling him 'Father'... 'Dad' still feels out of bounds for now… so you simply don't say anything.

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forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @moonlightsolo , @jynzandtonic , @ohdamnadam

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

#my writing #hog #heiress of gotham #heiress of gotham series #dad!bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batfam x reader #batfam x sister!reader #my series #dcu reader insert #batfam reader insert #i love queue #dc comics reader insert #dc comics fanfiction #jason todd x sister!reader

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yeosatinyngz · 1 year

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Hi, i hope you are doing well. Oh, and happy one year, you are great <3 For the event, can i request reo mikage (bllk) x fem reader with prompt no.11? (reo starts the dialogue) but please don't overwork yourself!!

Hi, I hope the same for you! Thank you, you’re great! <3 Your wish is my command! Thank you again, you’re so sweet!💜

#11: “Are you alright?” “Yeah, why?” “You look mad.” “That’s just my face…”

Join Event ➺ Masterlist

You were notorious for your resting angry face and everywhere you went you were misunderstood thanks to it. It didn’t help that you were introverted as well so you got used to others misjudging you. You decided to just live your life, even if no one else was besides you. It was just another regular day at school and you were in gym class when the teacher announced that you guys were to do some exercises as warm ups. The first exercise was sit ups and the teacher recommended someone to hold your feet down and you having no friends decided to just do it alone, since it was manageable to do even without someone helping you.

As you were about to start someone walked up to you, bent down and held your feet down. You were surprised to say the least but you just continued on with the sit ups. You were able to identify that the person before you was Mikage Reo. What confused you the most was why the school’s most popular and richest guy was here in front of you holding your feet down for you. Nagi was sick at home so he couldn’t show up to school. Usually Reo would partner up with him for exercises in gym class but because he wasn’t here he looked around the gymnasium to see who didn’t have a partner to help. His eyes fell upon your lonely figure and that’s what led up to him walking over to help you.

When you finished your set of sit ups it was Reo’s turn to do his set so in return you held his feet down for him. Soon he was done and you guys moved on to jumping jacks. While you were doing them you can tell that Reo wanted to talk to you as you see him glancing at you once in a while from your peripheral vision. Now you both were next to each other doing wall sits. That’s when Reo finally speaks up, “Are you alright?” “Yeah, why?” “You look mad.” “That’s just my face…” You sigh as you slide down the wall into a sitting position. He followed your action hesitating on speaking again, “I hope I didn’t offend you, I was just checking up on you.” “It’s fine.” You nonchalantly said not even sparing him a glance.

He knew something was wrong and he quickly apologized, “I’m sorry for just assuming how you were feeling.” Your eyes widened, this was the first time someone ever apologized for misjudging you. You looked into his eyes with a small smile on your face, “Thank you for considering my feelings and apologizing.” Reo was taken back as this was the first time he saw you smile. He felt like such a jerk for just assuming that you were mean. Out of nowhere he asked you, “Would you want to hang out with me after school today?” Now it was your turn to be taken aback, no one has ever invited you to hang out and your heart started leaping in joy. “Yes!” You said a little too eagerly with your eyes twinkling in delight. Reo smiled upon your answer and your enthusiasm finding you cute. He hopes he’ll get to know you more and you were as excited to get to know him.

#yeosatinyngz’s 1 year event #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #yeosatinyngz #yeosatinyngz requests

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acciojaeyun · 2 years

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underneath the table | fred weasley smut

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader (royal!au) warnings: (18+) nsfw, voyeurism, oral, male-receiving? a bit of edging, spitting. idk what else to add here except the fact that this was filthy and i needed to cave into fred weasley, yk. prompts: “i’m sensitive, please”

a/n: here's the part two to those who've asked from the first part of the fic!! i always love some pining with dear ol' freddie. so, ofc, this will have a third part 🙈

summary: y/n y/l/n was as needy as ever for fred weasley after the last encounter where they were interrupted the last time. now, as another opportunity presents itself to y/n, she knows she has to do something about it.

"Miss Y/N," Madame Pomfrey says as she makes a quick rundown on her list, minutes before another banquette is to be held in the kingdom, as Hon. Ron, the family's youngest son, had announced his engagement with the Lady Granger - or Hermione, as she likes to be called most of the times - therefore, another celebration is expected.

Which meant Y/N had spent most of her free days instead of helping in formwork every Saturday with Fred hovering above her anytime he got, she spent the day going with Madame Pince and Madame Pomfrey for the preparation, from the cleaning of the chambers to buying vegetables, meat, and other raw ingredients from the merchants in King's Cross.

So, Fred, whose favourite day was Saturday considering he gets to see more of Y/N during the second to the last day weekend, was immediately displeased - to say the least. In fact, his team had won by the number of bludgers he had beaten off, leaving at least one or two for George to deal with.

"Pray thee, brother," George kids Fred as they unmounted the broom, with Fred emphasizing each action by harshly throwing his own away, leaving a loud thud as George found the whole scene entertaining. "take a breather or the next time I see you the whole broom closet is torn down into pieces of wood."

Fred rolled his eyes, shaking off his rather sweaty hair, removing his gears in such a fierce manner.

"Ah, still no attitude adjustment from Y/N, I assume?" George whispers, laughing almost immediately as Fred meets his gaze as he nonchalantly removed all of his gear.

"There's no attitude adjustment," Fred mutters, freeing the top section of his hair from the tight pony he has placed it in.

"Yet," George replies, winking at Fred, who, in turn, just slapped the back of his head, with George exclaiming a playful wince of pain as he returned the gesture to his older twin. "Don't know why you just can't ask her out, though, she seems pretty in love with you."

Fred shrugs, and immediately George knew. "Mum and Dad both know that we don't take rules by the book, Freddie. We simply have a mind of our own."

The older twin didn't dare to respond. He knows how he and George have a mind of their own, yes, he and his twin always had blown up different rooms and bathrooms - causing plumbers and carpenters to be working more than their usual hours.

With one pat on the shoulder from George, they made their way outside the Quidditch closet, with Ginny following closely behind with a pastry in her hand.

"Where'd you get that?" George asks as he tries to pinch off a part from Ginny, who had successfully whisked the bun away before George could get a hold of it.

"This," Ginny says before taking the last bite, "is from Y/N. If you want you could ask for one, or let Fred ask, I'm sure she'll give more than one." Ginny winks at Fred.

"I'm pretty sure she'll give the whole basket if Fred's the one who'll ask," Harry follows in, making them laugh as Fred huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Those are for later, you know she only gave you that bun since you’re her favourite Weasley," Fred says, still annoyed by the fact that he had not seen Y/N the whole day. "I beg to differ," Ginny counters, wiping off the cinnamon-covered fingers on her handkerchief, "when she got back, the first thing she asked after greeting me was where you are, I'm pretty sure I'm second."

"When did I fall into third place?" George pouts, making Fred punch his arm.

"Where is she?" Fred turns to Ginny as they neared the marble staircase towards the castle.

As soon as Fred has taken a shower and changed into comfier clothes, he finds himself wandering over the Kitchens four hours before the banquette - while he knows Y/N might be busy preparing, he couldn't help it, especially when he had witnessed the beauty of each curve that her body possessed. It was as if she was the finest wine Fred desperately needed to taste and devour, and he'll do everything to taste it - and for all he knew, Fred always got his things his way.

So, when Fred sees Madame Pomfrey leave the Kitchens with maidens following about her, he tries to recognise each lady, and when he realises Y/N was not included in the roster, he sneaks his way down to the Kitchens.

Lo, and behold, the fairest maiden his eyes had ever seen. Y/N was chopping the vegetables in such serenity Fred always found himself drawn towards. He took quiet steps, so much for not trying to break her focused stance before placing his hands on her hips, making Y/N jolt as she felt the touch.

"Goodness, sire," Y/N chuckles nervously as she recognises the familiar scent of the man who had his hands on the expanse of her hips. "you scared me."

"Where were you?" Fred ignores her remark, sliding his hands to her waist as he pulls the body against his, his body flushing at the contact, and sooner enough, he was getting turned on by the way he acknowledges he felt her skin beneath his touch.

"Head maiden duties, I had to accompany mesdames," Y/N whispers, hands failing to chop the vegetables on her board as she basks in the presence of the attractive young man whom she had been pining ever since.

Fred smirks at how Y/N tries her very best to stay composed, and soon enough, Fred places his chin on her shoulder as his hands enveloped Y/N's, guiding her hands in chopping the vegetables.

"You know you do have magic, right?" Fred whispers as his lips ghost the shell of her ear, kitten licking a small portion of her skin, making the lass shiver at the action. "Yes, sire," Y/N responds, biting her lip.

"But I prefer you guiding me on how to do it," Y/N responds timidly, making Fred's breath hitch and for him to let out a low groan. "God, m'lady," Fred chuckles as he presses his hips against her bum, "you don't know what you do to me."

Y/N places down her knife and spins around, making Fred lose his balance before gripping the edge of the counter Y/N had been working on, trapping the lady between his arms, their lips almost touching at the very small distance between them.

"Then let me know," Y/N says, and Fred immediately places his mouth on hers, pushing his hips against the crotch as much as he can, considering that her flowy dress didn't give him much access to it. Y/N moaned, hands intertwining behind Fred's neck as she pulled him deeper into the kiss.

Fred, with only half a mind, had successfully pushed the vegetables aside as well as the other kitchenware, taking a hold of her thighs to aid her as he told her to jump and seat on the counter. Y/N's legs spread wide as Fred hoisted the fabric towards the top of her thighs, giving him room as he tried to dry hump against her clothed crotch.

"Merlin, baby," Fred says as soon as their kiss broke, eyes meeting hers as his hips rutted against her, with Y/N sensually trying to meet his rhythm. "a fucking goddess you are - a slut - but a goddess." he winks at her, making Y/N blush.

But as soon as things could escalate further, the lad and the lass both heard the faint voice of Madame Pomfrey, with the heels of her shoes clicking against the marble stone floor.

"Shit," Fred says, pulling Y/N down from the counter and casting a verbal spell to fix the things on the counter. As soon as the counter was back to normal, he faced the lass, almost groaning at the sight of her: flushed, with dark eyes in such a stare he knew was only reserved for him.

"God, are you so sexy," Fred says as he pecks her lips more than once. "dinner duties?" he asks as the steps become loud with each second. Y/N shook her head, "They wanted me to rest."

Fred hummed, "Be there at the dining hall, alright? I'll miss you,"

"But, sir -"

"Lord's orders," he winked before turning Y/N around and making her take hold of the knife and usher her back to chopping.

"Oh, Lord Weasley! What a surprise," Madame Pomfrey says with a gasp as she finds him walking around the Kitchens, looking dishevelled, but the Housekeeper remained ignorant. "To who do I offer the visit?"

"I got hungry, looked for something to eat," Fred shrugged, "would you be serving the custards later, Madame Pomfrey?" he follows up a second later as the Housekeeper was about to respond.

"Oh, yes, sire, in fact, Y/N was the one who said to serve that tonight," Madame Pomfrey smiles. "Do you have any more requests for the dinner tonight, my Lord?"

"I'm good, thank you," Fred smiles, "but if I were to get hungry and needed those custards before dessert, I could ask Y/N right?" he smirks as Y/N's blush deepened.

"Of course, sir," Madame Pomfrey replies.

"Good, now, will you excuse me," Fred says, excusing himself, without him not trying to sneak a wink in Y/N's way.

And excuse herself was something Y/N tries to do as the banquette neared and some invited guests arrived at the Dining Hall. She hadn't seen Fred since he made his presence known in the Kitchens, and to say that the encounter made her underwear wet was an understatement. In fact, the whole time she had been preparing the custard flans, she has been looking at the door of the Kitchens ever now and so often as Fred said a while ago, and she only had stopped when Madame Pomfrey had called out her attention regarding it.

She huffs in annoyance as it dawns on her that Fred wasn't going to go down before dinner, and it almost pushes her to the edge when she had walked past him across the halls and he hadn't spared a glance at her.

How dare you, Y/N thinks.

And that was why she finds herself tucked underneath the long table of the Dining Hall, and she silently thanks herself for having to have chosen a thicker and longer table cover that reached the floor, for if not, she would be having a difficult time trying to act upon Fred's endless teasing.

So, as soon as she sees the familiar leather shoes clicking against the floor with the gold buckle that she knew was Fred's, she situates herself in front of the chair that Fred stopped at, and as soon as he took a seat, Y/N tries to contemplate whether what she was thinking of was worth the risk.

Goddamn it, Y/N bites her lip, I'm doing it.

Y/N had given ample time for Fred to situate during dinner, and her heart almost flutters as she held back a chuckle when Fred started tapping his foot impatiently on the floor as he tried to fidget, as if he were searching for someone.

When Fred's impatient foot-tapping had come to a halt, that is when Y/N's fingers lightly danced on Fred's knee, making Fred's knee jerk and hit the table, with Fred slightly groaning at the sudden action, and her laughing lightly as Fred tries to excuse what had happened.

Not a long while after, a teaspoon had fallen from the table, and Y/N stayed still as she didn't know whose silverware had fallen. Her breath hitched as she tried to keep it in, and sooner enough, she was met by a mischievous grin of Fred's.

Fred winks at her as he retrieves the spoon from the ground, making her blush as Fred pulls his chair closer to the table, much to Y/N's comfortability.

Y/N takes the lead as she tries to unbuckle Fred's trousers, pulling them down slightly as her breath ghosts on the black boxers Fred had worn. Her lips leave a kiss on the bulge that was starting to grow from the crotch, and her underwear, if it had been wet before, was getting wetter than it was a while ago.

She bites her lip before pulling the trousers down to pool at Fred's ankles, tongue immediately latching on Fred's clothed cock, making the lad jump in his seat. His hips involuntarily bucked slightly, an act which Y/N took that he wanted more.

But Y/N was not willing to comply - not yet - that's why she pushed his hips down on the chair, making Fred choke on his food, and Y/N smirked as she found the situation pleasant. She kept on kissing the covered dick, with her tongue going out every now and then to lick him under the fabric.

Her hands which were used to push Fred's hips down held the side of his thighs, pinching the muscular flesh as her teeth bit the band of his boxers, pulling it down sensually as she felt Fred tense up. Her fingers immediately tapped on his skin, soothing him down.

As soon as the pants were discarded along with his trousers, Y/N wasted no time and immediately licked his throbbing dick from the base to the tip of his head, taking her time to flick the skin from the head, tongue running across the slit of his cock.

Y/N's left hand went in between his thighs to cup his balls, wriggling her hand as she tried to massage as she bobbed her head up and down the impressive length of Fred. The hand that was used to cup Fred's thigh was now used to jack off his penis, her chest heaving out in such intensity as she tried to catch her breath.

Her fingers tightened and squeezed around the head, and soon, she was spitting on his head and smearing her saliva throughout the head, spreading it out on his dick before divulging again.

Fred's left hand went down the table, his thighs jerking every now and then as he tried to answer the small talk he found himself in, his hand tried to search for Y/N's right hand, to which Y/N had noticed, and after wiping the saliva-coated hands with Fred's thigh, she reached her hand towards Fred's and intertwined her hands with his.

"Fuck," Y/N breathed out as she paused from giving head to Fred, as it was challenging with his length and girth; hitting the back of her throat every down and then as she tried to eat him out whole.

Y/N was jerking Fred's dick off with such intensity, noting how Fred has been trying to suppress his squirming by tapping his foot and tightening his grip on their intertwined hands. She saw how Fred tried to buck his hips towards her mouth, and Y/N helped Fred by putting him in her mouth again, bobbing her head up and down with her tongue following suit, as her hand jacked off the remaining flesh that her mouth couldn't reach.

The hand which was used to massage his balls have been discarded, as she had already pushed down her hand to her underwear, teasing her clit before pushing two fingers inside her, desperately wanting to chase Fred's orgasm so she could come with the man.

It was at the same time when Y/N felt her orgasm approaching as Fred's right hand was now grasping her jaw, guiding her to be fast in order for him to come as his left hand dug his fingernails into Y/N's right hand. He didn't know Y/N was touching herself, and Y/N didn't know that Fred was doing everything in his willpower what was happening to him underneath the table.

Y/N quickened the pace on his cock, the noise of his skin on his mouth as well as her gagging was enough to turn her on, good thing that the Dining Hall was packed; as it drowned out the sinful noise that came under the table, had anyone been attentive enough.

Fred's hands stilled on Y/N, signalling that he was about to come, at the same time Y/N also came on her fingers, drenching her undergarments with her release. Fred's cum splattered down to the back of her throat, the salty yet sweet liquid burning up her tongue as she milked out his climax.

When Y/N felt that he was done, she swallowed the cum and pulled him out of her mouth and licked him clean slowly with her tongue, earning a squirm from Fred as he leaned against the chair, slightly peering at her from where she knelt on the ground in front of him.

"I'm sensitive," he mouthed, eyebrows furrowing as he met the innocent gaze of Y/N when she kitten-licked his overstimulated head. "Please," she followed his request.

Y/N winked and opened her mouth, indirectly telling him that she has swallowed his load. Fred's hooded eyelids looked at her in awe as he tried to breathe deeply without being obvious. His hands made way to her jaw and he ran his fingers on her cheek, "So pretty," he whispered.

Dinner soon ended after what seemed like a long while, but the night will soon be longer, for as Y/N reappeared - though looking unkempt - at the Dining Hall, clearing the tables as if she had not been underneath the table throughout, Fred cleared his throat and whispered to her, "Chambers, in two hours."

taglist: @georgiessunflower @vilentia @raiymaj @mellowsharkharmony @hehehhe1d

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katnissmellarkkk · 2 years

Note

Could we maybe have some katniss and peeta actually bonding and becoming close during the catching fire period (as is touched on in the books, but it’s so brief rip😭)

Lololololol imma give you more than you asked for. I have made the executive decision to write this prompt into a mini-series that’ll ultimately become a Catching Fire/Mockingjay AU. It’ll be a short one, comprised of a series of short - ish oneshots. Hopefully it won’t take me long to write. 🥰🤣. I always say that though 😭.

Okay anyways, this first one is set right after they work on the plant book together after Katniss hurts her foot and tailbone. So after she notices his eyelashes but before her prep team shows up in Twelve and the Quarter Quell announcement is made. 🤗🤗🤗. The first few oneshots in this series are going to be just like this prompt says, Katniss and Peeta getting to know each other more and bonding deeper (a lot lot lot deeper if you know what I mean) in Catching Fire. I hope you like this! I hope anyone who reads this first little oneshot enjoys it!

Peeta and I walk side by side into town, the cobblestone path giving my bad heel some trouble. “Are you alright?” He murmurs, his voice quiet and concerned. My mother let me leave the house for the first time today after after examining my bad foot and appraising it healed enough for a walk through town. I suppose let is a strong word, considering I don’t often ask her for permission these days. I haven’t in years. Not since my father died and especially not since I won the games.

“I’m fine,” I say nonchalantly, hoping that if I act enough like the pain shooting up through my heel and into the backside of my calf is nothing then I’ll convince even myself.

Peeta seems to see through my facade but lets it drop, choosing rather to attempt at distracting me. “Do you like that cloth?” He asks, pointing to some purple material in the town seamstress’ window.

I shrug it off though. “I never cared much for fancy things.” He shoots me a curious look at that and I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Peeta, do I seem like the kind of person who’d be interested in fancy materials?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But you do have an eye for beauty.”

Now I look at him curiosity. “Peeta, that’s you? You’re the one around here with the eye for beauty.”

He suddenly laughs and his eyes soften as they lower down to meet mine. “I suppose I do.”

But I’m still on the defensive for some reason. “Even more than that. You have a real weakness for beautiful things.”

“No,” he refutes, his smile becoming a smirk. “No, that’s only when it comes to you.”

I open my mouth to respond before his meaning computes. And then I’m just left speechless, never anticipating the way he can worm compliments and admissions of love into any conversation, always so seamless and always so genuine. Never expecting any sort of response in return but leaving me feeling bashful and guilty just the same.

As if proving he doesn’t expect any confession on my part, he changes the subject, gesturing towards the sweets shop down the way. “Did Cherry get a new flavor?” He asks and I squint, reading the sign.

Cherry is a chubby middle-aged women with at least three kids who I assume are much younger than me. I really don’t know any of them at all, since I’ve never had much reason to go into the shop until recently. Until I became a victor, living in the richest part of Twelve, I never once set foot in the sweets shop, never being able to afford anything in it.

Prim’s been in there though, many times over. She used to stop in, even when our mother couldn’t stand getting out of bed in the morning and looked at us like we were ghosts instead of her children. Prim would stare at the display case and fantasize about the day she could afford any flavor of ice cream or any piece of chocolate the shop had to offer.

She has gotten almost every item on the menu since I won the games. But for some reason, the memory of seven-year-old Prim, gaunt and tiny and the picture of innocence, standing in front of the vanilla ice cream, dreaming of the taste, moves me to abruptly head towards the business.

“Let’s go in there,” I say, grabbing Peeta’s hand before thinking better of it and pulling him towards the sweets shop.

I hear him chuckle behind me, but follow just the same. In fact he seems downright at home inside the business as soon as we cross the threshold. Much to my surprise, for some reason.

We only have to wait in line for a minute or two before a girl, no older than eight, skips up to the register. “Hi, Peeta,” she says brightly, flashing him a smile that reveals two missing teeth.

“Hi, Pixie,” he says in a voice I barely recognize. Have I ever seen him talk to a child before? Never, I realize. Never that I can recall off the top of my head. “What is it that I hear about a new sale?” He asks in a bright tone.

The little girl gets rapidly more and more excited, prattling on about how they got a new flavor straight from the Capitol and that her mother let her try it first and how it’s bright blue and tastes like the sky.

“Hey, when was the last time you tasted the sky?” Peeta murmurs, tugging on her braid gently. Her braid that bears a rather striking resemblance to mine.

Pixie giggles a little and I find the sound surprisingly sweet. Which, I suppose, shouldn’t be a shock since she’s clearly the owner’s — of the sweets shop — child but still. There’s something extremely endearing about her.

And I suddenly cannot help but wonder if this is how Peeta — or any other merchant — feels when watching people from the Seam interact? I can’t explain why but, as I stare at the two of them now, it dawns on me that they look so much alike. The ash blonde hair, the light blue eyes, the rosy cheeks and fair skin. They even have the same exact nose.

“Well, I’d like two cartons of that new flavor then,” Peeta says, still smiling at the little girl. “You officially sold me on that.” She giggles in response and hops off her stepping stool to go scoop up his order.

“Are you a regular here?” I ask quietly, wondering how he’s so completely familiar with this place when he himself said he used to only eat the old, stale bread from the bakery. How much trading would the sweets shop and the Mellark have to do to become this aquatinted? I can’t imagine the witch making friends with much of anyone.

But then again, Peeta did exclusively spend time with the other town kids growing up. Maybe he knows every shop owner and family in town.

I wonder, in the back of my mind, if he knows my grandparents then. If he knows the people who disowned my mother for falling in love with and marrying my father. If he’s ever stopped by the apothecary and bought herbs or remedies from them. Made pleasant conversation or exchanged niceties.

I’ve never known either of them and I never intend to but the idea of Peeta being even cordial with my estranged grandparents makes my skin crawl.

“Katniss,” Peeta says, bringing me back to reality. “What kind of ice cream do you want?”

“Vanilla,” I answer distantly — because it’s Prim’s absolute favorite — before thinking twice and adding in, “and chocolate. Vanilla and chocolate. One of each.”

He repeats my order to Pixie as she hands him his two cartons. At first I think he’s just repeating it because he assumes I’m too shy to order myself. But then he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a large wad of cash, handing the entire amount to the little girl.

“Wait, Peeta!’’ I hiss as soon as Pixie goes to collect my ice cream too. “You can’t pay for me.”

“Let me,” he insists, his voice hushed as well. “I want to, Katniss.”

I try to object again but then his eyes meet mine and there’s something else there. There’s something else in his gaze, an intensity I rarely see. The same intensity that appears when he’s drawing, that was there when the peacekeeper in Eleven pressed his gun to me, an intensity that indicates an entire world locked away inside the boy with the bread. An entire world I’ve only recently discovered, that I’ve barely begun to know. Really know, not just as a byproduct of survival, as a byproduct of acting for the cameras, but really come to understand on a deeper level.

Pixie jumps back up onto her stepping stool and hands me a stack of three cartons of ice cream, instead of two. “Here you go, Miss Katniss,” she says in a polite and high-pitched tone. One that reminds me a lot of Prim at her age.

And I can’t help the affection in my tone, in my eyes and my genuine smile, despite the fact that I don’t know this child at all. “Thank you, Pixie. But I did only order two cartons.”

“I know.” She pushes them towards me again, clearly wanting me to take all three. “But I added in strawberry for free. For you guys to share.” Her big blue eyes travel between me and Peeta and I don’t have the heart to turn down an eight-year-old’s generosity.

“Thank you,” I murmur, truly touched by the gesture. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Yes,” Peeta agrees, and him and her share a smile between them, like a secret being exchanged right before me. “That is very kind of you, Pix.”

“Love you,” she murmurs happily, beaming now as she leans across the counter to hug him around the neck.

“Love you too. Tell your mother hi for me,” he adds, scooping up his ice cream in one arm and grasping my hand with his other.

“Okay!” She promises as we leave, waving goodbye until we’re out of sight.

We walk for a solid five minutes down the cobblestone path in total silence before I finally speak. “So you know her really well then?”

It’s a quite obvious fact, given that he just told the little girl he loved her. But for some reason, I still don’t see his answer coming at all. “Katniss,” he says, his tone a little sardonic. “She’s my cousin. Of course I know her well.”

That stops me in my tracks. “She’s your cousin?” I suddenly replay their entire exchange over in my head, their familiarity clicking at last.

And now he’s laughing at me. “Did you never realize half the people from town were related?”

I blink twice, barely giving his question any thought before replying. “It never occurred to me,” I defend, feeling more than a little embarrassed, despite the fact that I had no way of knowing this information. We walk in silence for a few minutes, as he still smiles to himself at my ignorance and I ponder another thought. It’s nothing specific, just a realization the last twenty minutes have really driven home.

Peeta seems to recognize I’m mulling something over. “What’re you thinking about?” He asks as our houses come into view. His fingers press against the space between my brows, the space that gets an angry line every time I’m deep in thought. A result of my instinctive habit of always knitting my brows together.

I look up at him, considering my words for a moment before admitting, “There’s just a lot we still don’t know about each other.”

For some reason Peeta has a solution to this ready and loaded. “Then let’s get to know each other now.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that. So easy and effortless and nice. All the things our relationship has never gotten a chance to be, having always bore the pressure of survival on it’s back.

I nod, accepting his answer, surprising me how simple it is. “Okay,” I agree and smile at the way he picks up my hand again and squeezes it lightly in response.

He matches my expression. “Okay.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #my drabbles #my writing #catching fire AU #200 #thw

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

under the moonlight — jjk

Plot: Jungkooks’ omega is in heat.

Pairing(s): Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k+

Genre: Supernatural | ABO Dynamics | Smut/Angst

Tags & Warnings: abo dynamics, explicit smut, mild violence

Authors Note: repost for those who wanted this!

Elation floated around her mind when she was taken in as a mate by the alpha himself. Only the strongest were chosen so it was no surprise that a sense of pride burst through her body at the decision. Though the result of it all had been a lot more anti-climactic than expected when Jungkook seemed to have no interest in being near her.

Belle would stay close to him in front of the pack, sleep next to him on his bed but he always turn the other way or just sleep on a chair and not a single intimate touch shared between them. The excitement that once reached the roof of her mood now dropped down to a pile of fear and insecurity.

Nothing happened between the two of them but the omega could not help but think that Jungkook grew tired of her as soon as he took her in. Something the betas were quick to assume in front of her while the alpha was not around.

All hope lost for a while until the heat began. That same excitement bubbled inside her again knowing now more than ever, Jungkook would try to get close.

Belle even went as far as to dress herself up in a short, silk babydoll dress with nothing else underneath making her completely ready and open for her beloved alpha. And she waited in the room. The same room that had no memories but of distance and silence. Her legs rubbed together absentmindedly growing impatient until the door finally opened, heart jumping almost out of her ribcages. A smile stretched across her lips when she saw Jungkooks’ eyes trail up and down her body. “Do you like it?”

Jungkook continued to stare as he closed the door behind him. “It’s cold…wear something warm.” He mumbled under his breath quickly turning on his heel towards the bathroom leaving the omega in her pooling lust and pain.

Frustration burst inside as disturbing thoughts passed through her mind, chest rising and falling rapidly glaring at the direction Jungkook walked away.

In a jolt of impulse Belle grabbed a large coat, draping it over her body before rushing out of the room and being rid of her constant disappointment in her uninterested alpha.

Unfortunately a little omega in heat all alone in the forest may have not been the greatest idea.

His body burned like a furnace as soon as he saw her in that thin little nightie, a little see through with her plump thighs peeking out resembling a cake he wanted to bite into. Those gorgeous tender breasts and that fucking smile. So much innocence yet her body spoke all kinds of sin. Jungkook had to grip onto the edge of the bathroom counter to calm himself down, his eyes already darkened with lust as her scent echoed throughout the room hurdling him down to a pit of insanity.

The alpha struggled to keep his control around the beautiful omega and from his observation, the rest of the pack had the same idea. A lot of betas would eye her with dark eyes sometimes whispering all the things they would do to her once she was in heat. Jungkook had to shut them down somehow without showing just how much he hated the thought of anyone else touching the ethereal and delicate creature.

It was simple for him to choose Belle, not much as a second thought passed through his mind when he did. The beauty tried her best to be perfect for him even though really there was no need for a lot of effort since the slightest flip of her hair had him growling in hunger. Every part of his body tingled at the thought of her but he harbored a slight concern of tainting all that innocence.

Jungkook did not earn this position by being gentle on anyone even his previous mates. Though none of their scents swirled in his head as badly as Belles’. It smelled so sweet, calling out for him to taste even just a little.

Thoughts faded when he heard the bedroom door slam shut forcing him to rush back out to the place he saw the beauty waiting for him but now completely empty. The strong scent of her already fading away, frustrating him in mere seconds.

“Where’s Belle?” He immediately announced as he barged out to the main hall where most of the pack were still chatting and eating.

One of the betas shrugged, licking one of her fingers. “She just walked out of the mansion.”

“And you let her?” His eyes flashed amber silencing the entire group as they finally listened to his every word, barely moving.

“We thought she just went out to hunt or something.” Another beta spoke a little less nonchalantly but uncaring nonetheless.

Jungkook was not surprised considering he pushed past most of these betas to get to the precious omega he wanted. The idea burned him with more fury, raking his fingers through his hair knowing Belle would not just randomly go out to hunt. He rejected her while she was deep in heat, any member of the pack would have been frustrated beyond belief.

“She’s just a scrap member of the pack, Kook.” The first beta spoke up again rolling her eyes at how concerned the alpha looked. “I don’t hear a lot of noises from the bedroom so that means you probably taken her yet so—let her freeze.” She quickly came to regret her words when her neck now tightly encased into Jungkooks’ hand until all her breath stuck in her throat.

“She has more use to the pack on her pinky finger than you do in your whole body.” He seethed before letting her drop to the floor coughing.

“Jimin!” Jungkook growled in command for one of the betas as they rushed out of the mansion in search of his omega.

The night was harsh and cold especially since her legs were not properly covered, allowing the breeze to create goosebumps on her skin. Belle had no idea where she was going but the mansion deemed to be an unfriendly and now unsatisfying place to be in. At least it was warm though. Even the mud splotched under her shoes making her feel more exposed, pooling between her legs forced an annoying mixture of desire and disgust.

For a moment she imagined Jungkooks’ reaction of her disappearance. Would he be angry the omega rushed out into the open while still in heat? Would he even care? Hell, had he even noticed at this point that she was gone?

Unlikely, she thought. He probably took in a beta he actually wanted instead of her and continued on with the night in a flurry of pleasure. The vision and thought caused a burning behind her eyes that deemed to be the only warm thing on her body.

A rustle in the bushes made her heart jump as Belle hugged herself even tighter. In a small moment of hope she thought it was Jungkook but the forest looked completely empty. She wanted to call his name out but no sound wanted to be formed. All of her words replaced with shivers. Twig snapped somewhere close by, her ears pricked up trying to back away against the tree trunk until her back hit something.

Except it wasn’t a tree. Trees didn’t have hot breath running down her neck and limbs that tried to wrap around her body.

Belle gasped quickly turning around to see the figure, the tiniest ray of hope of the person being Jungkook now completely destroyed when she came face to face with a man, eyes flashing red and trailing uncomfortable slow down her body.

“Look at you…” He gave her a sinister smirk as she continued to back away. “It’s dangerous for such a pretty omega to be walking around here.” He took a step forward attempting to stay closer distance no matter how much the woman tried to move. “Especially one that—smells so sweet.” His eyes flickered down immediately making Belle press her legs together tight. “Where’s your pack, darling?”

She stammered lightly having that vision of Jungkook again with a beta and her heart sank deeply glancing behind her.

“Oh…” He followed her gaze. “Exiled pup.”

“I wasn’t exiled.” Belle argued. “I—I left.”

He hummed and nodded, plump lips pouting out a little before carefully taking another step, a tiny bit pleased when the creature did not take another step back. “Why did you leave?” The question lingered in the air for a while as the man was now almost overwhelmed by the decadent scent touching his nose.

“My—the alpha—” She gulped down the lump in her throat. “I’m not wanted there.” The reply was simple but saying it made her body close in wanting so badly just to ask Jungkook what she did wrong. But he would never tell her.

“I don’t think that’s the truth.” He shook his head, one more step taken now only closing the distance since the omega stood still. “If I had someone like you in my pack, I would’ve taken you as my mate without a second thought.” Something stirred in his pants even just imagining the idea of this gorgeous creature being his mate. “Especially when you’re in heat…” His deep voice vibrated in her ears a little. “I’d never leave your side.”

Belle gripped onto her coat again averting her gaze to the trees, wondering if sprinting away would be a good idea or could just get her into more trouble. “I don’t know you.”

“Oh my apologies—I’m Taehyung…I lead the pack on the South edge of the forest.” He gestured casually behind him with a small smile.

The omega was a little surprised that this alpha even answered her question. Omegas had no real right to ask anything, they were just supposed to do what they were told and be the butt of everyone’s joke. Part of the reason why all the betas grew furious at her presence after the alpha chose her. The runt of the pack.

“What’s your name?” Taehyung leaned in slightly searching her expression.

“Belle.”

“Belle.” He whispered back, a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes trailed from her bright eyes and slightly glistening pink lips. “I never knew omegas came this pretty.” Taehyung practically stood over her now. “Too bad your alpha didn’t snatch you up when they had the chance.” Fingers hovered over the creatures’ neck trying not to touch the skin just yet. “Good thing I found you. Anyone else would have already grabbed you by now.”

Belle shifted a little to get away from his lingering fingers. “Am I supposed to be thankful?”

“You should always be thankful if an alpha decides not to kill you for being of no use.” Taehyungs’ tone grew serious for a brief moment. Though his expression softened when the omega hung her head not giving him another response. With a sigh, he spoke again. “I’m not going to hurt you. Someone so beautiful should never come in harms’ way.”

“I’m not beautiful.” No one in the pack thought so. Belle never really got to sit at the table with everyone else and on the rare occasion, a few of them sat with her to taunt her about something for entertainment. It sounded like a harsh life but the girl did not really have any other family left to wonder what everything could be like. Besides she felt safe at best in the mansion. Especially since the moment the omega walked out, another alpha sniffed her out in minutes.

Taehyung merely chuckled at her comment. “Would you like me to show just how beautiful you are?” Those wild fingers now hovered over the coat covering her shivering body. “I’ve been wanting a little omega for a while.”

“I’m already—” It would be a lie to say Belle was taken as a mate since she technically was not. But this red eyed alpha was still a stranger no matter how warm his smile looked now. Lying a little might not be such a betrayal. “I’m already taken.”

“Didn’t you say you left?” His brows furrowed but the smile remained. “That means you’re not taken anymore, sweet one. Means you’re open and ripe for any alphas’ taking.” Taehyung’s flashed that deadly color again as he grabbed her chin firmly to force her gaze on him. “So be a good little pup—”

His words interrupted by a heavy growl that echoed through the tress almost making them tremble. In a flash of black Belle saw Taehyung being tackled to the ground, his right eye already bleeding and puffed up before she could even gain her bearings.

Gaze followed the assailant and immediately recognized the long-ish curly hair. His fists practically jackhammered across the other alphas’ face, only giving him the chance let out grunts or cough up blood.

Eventually when Belle’s surrounding came back into clarity, her heart jumped. “Jungkook…” She muttered. The perfect omega inside her wanting to keep her distance and letting the alphas do what they always did. But the part that didn’t want a death because of her running away finally won the battle. “Jungkook, stop!” She grabbed at Jungkooks’ shoulder and tried to pull him back which shocked both the leaders and the beta, Jimin. “I’m sorry…” Her hands moved away from his shoulder back to holding her coat while the two alphas caught their breath.

Jimin glared at her for stopping an alpha fight like that but stayed silent waiting for Jungkook to reprimand the omega instead. The beta did not have any qualm with the creature at all. In fact he thought she was very kind to all the members despite that kindness not being returned a lot of the time. However Jimin knew the rules. Omegas were never allowed to consort with the alpha at all in most cases but breaking up an alpha brawl broke all kinds of tradition.

Taehyung struggled to get himself up from the ground but tried to hide it as much as he could, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping away all the excess blood. “Doesn’t seem like you weren’t wanted, little omega.” He smirked.

Belle merely hung her head not wanting to face anyone and hoped to disappear into thin air. It became harder to be invisible nowadays ever since she got chosen. Everyone either stared at her, whispered or tried to taunt her more than normal just so they could see a reaction that would make her look weak. That way Jungkook would in some way ‘open his eyes’ and figure out she was nothing but a runt. Never good enough.

“You fight dirty as always, Jeon.”

“I told you not to cross to our border.” Jungkook sounded and looked like he had no time for Taehyungs’ smug antics.

“Easy now.” He chuckled. “I just smelled a stray pup and wanted to help. Is that so evil?” His voice was sickly sweet but his wild eyes spoke other things looking over at Belle again causing Jungkook to stand in front of her. “I could get her scent from miles away. It’s almost like she’s never been touched in heat.” He tilted his head.

The omega gulped while Jungkook tightened his jaw.

Taehyung then smiled at the silence. “Ah—she hasn’t.” His eyes flashed red again. “An innocent pup.”

“Don’t come onto my border again or your pack will have to find a new alpha.” Jungkook threatened, eyes still completely amber wanting to rip those wandering eyes out from his sockets.

He raised his hands in defense though as usual taking no real responsibility in considering it seriously. “No more sneaking around. So long as you keep your members in check next time.” Taehyung winked before turning on his heel and disappearing into the forest.

Deadly silence plunged into the forest while Belle’s skin felt like a thin layer of ice covered every inch from how long she had been exposed to the air.

Jungkook stood with his back to her, anger still radiating out of him. “Jimin…go back to the mansion. We’ll catch up.”

Jimin stammered a little wanting to protest but the alpha flashed his still amber eyes forcing him to bow in farewell. He gave a soft glance at the omega trying to be reassuring and not furious but quickly sprinted back into the forest not knowing how much effect it had.

Once the two stood alone in the forest, the alpha spoke.

“All the things you’ve done tonight. You could’ve been killed because of at least one of them.” Jungkook kept his back to her while the omega lowered her head again, staring at her mud covered shoes. “You need to stay out of an alpha fight.”

“I know.” She mumbled.

“And you need to stay indoors when you’re alone and especially when you’re in heat, you know that.” His voice grew more frustrated as the words spewed out of his mouth almost carelessly. “He could’ve taken you by force or even killed you.”

“But he didn’t, I’m fine.” It only came to her attention after a few moments of absorbing his words that this was the most feeling Jungkook had when he spoke to her. Maybe it was just adrenaline from the fist fight.

Jungkook scoffed. “No you’re not. This isn’t fine. A fucking alpha was just about take my own mate in my own territory.” He gestured towards the forest around them wildly.

“I’m not your mate!” Belle snapped finally looking at the male and seeing the glisten of sweat layered on his skin. “You barely even touch me. You just chose me—all I’m doing is sitting, eating and sleeping the same place you are. I’m not your mate, I’m your little unsatisfied housewife!”

He stomped closer to the omega, her scent practically shooting up his nostrils to his head.

“You—you don’t find me beautiful, what’s the point?” She looked down at the covered outfit she had so passionately adorned on her body just to please Jungkook. Only to be once again met with a cold shoulder that seemed to never melt off. “All I want to do is make you happy—but you don’t even want to look at me.”

The alpha stared down at his little omega telling him that she wanted to make him happy. Everyone wanted to make him happy somehow but they always had a ulterior motive and it was never hard to tell. Getting close to the alpha meant getting close to being alpha. But he could sense something else in her tone that never rung with anyone else.

Sincere loyalty.

Not an ambition to fight to the death but a genuine want to please the one she cared about. Jungkook could not express just how much he wanted to do the same thing. “The reason—I don’t look at you…is because when I do, I want to devour you right there and then.”

Belle searched his expression looking for any sign of deceit but it was always hard to read the leader.

“Everything you do…” Jungkook sighed to calm himself down from how much his fingers trembled being so close to her scent. “…I can’t think of anything else. I want to do more things to you than you can imagine.”

She had to close her eyes for a second letting out a shaky sigh, feeling more lust leak out of her making the area between her legs almost drenched. Biting down her bottom lip she held onto his freshly injured hand and placed it under her nightie. Belle had to stop herself from moaning already at his warm hands against her cold skin, riding up her thigh to her soaking wet cunt.

Jungkook growled under his throat finally feeling her cake thighs after so long of just pining and looking. Then the heavenly drench on his fingers pads from making just the slightest contact had him grabbing the back of her neck. Lips stopped merely a breath away from hers trying to keep himself contained from going too wild on her untouched body. Well…now slightly touched.

Belle caressed his chest, gasping lightly as his hand moved achingly slow on her core while her head was kept still dangerously close to his. “Do them to me.” She whispered, a soft, reassuring smile graced her features. “Please…I don’t want to imagine them anymore.” She brushed her own lips against his just gently. Not a kiss but a non-verbal plead. “Take me.”

The alpha managed to keep his control for so long when it came to the omega even though it grew harder and harder by each passing day. Tonight became his breaking point. Now that her scent overwhelmed his entire being, fingers soaked from her juices and those beautiful lips brushing against his, the beast inside him finally broke out of its cage. Leaning in Jungkook took her bottom lip between his twin flesh suckling on the skin and tasting a strawberry hint. Tongue ran across the soft surface as he felt her arms wrap around his neck.

Her heart pounded excitedly against her ribcages finally being able to feel her alphas’ lips again her own. His rough hands shifting from the aching core to her ass, squeezing it a little as Belle parted her lips to invite his tongue happily. Complete submission to the beloved leader had been her wish from the beginning. To see it come true caused a different kind of burn behind her eyes and under her skin.

Reluctantly Jungkook broke away only a little not forgetting to place a trail of pecks before looking into her eyes again. As soon as he gave her that sweet smile, the alpha ducked down and threw her over his shoulder, hand covering the small peek of her ass from her nightie.

Once at the mansion, the whole pack watched the alpha had opted to hold his omega’s hand while he took her to their bedroom. The beta who said for Belle to freeze tried to walk over to them and talk to Jungkook only to have the door slammed in her face.

Jungkook pushed Belle into the room and locked the door behind him. Turning around, his eyes were already blown out with lust raking up and down her body. “Show it to me again.” It was a softer demand but a demand nonetheless.

With a willing smile, the omega unzipped the long coat and shrugged it off, throwing it to the side. It didn’t take amazing eyesight to notice the tent growing in his pants. At this point her juices could leak down the inside of her thighs. “Is it nice?” She played with her fingers which made her look a lot more innocent and Jungkook could actually whine.

“Take it off.” He muttered, his mind rummaging through all the sinful things he could do to his little eager mate. “I want to see you.”

Belle kept her gaze on the alpha as her hands gently hooked onto the ends of her thin nightie and pulled it over her head. The piece of cloth now discarded same as the coat. “Like this?”

Jungkook had already accidently seen her in the shower; blurry sights of what her curves and crevices looked like but it did not give the real deal justice. How anyone could have the guts to call her the runt of the pack he would never know. They would watch their tongues next time they tried however. Walking over to the beauty, his hands immediately found their shaking way to her waist, caressing down to her hips making her utter the sweetest breathy hums. Lips pressed onto her neck, leaving trails of kisses until he came to left breast.

Her hands buried into his hair as he swirled his tongue around her nipple before suckling on it lightly. Knees grew weak at every movement trying to keep herself steady while his lips slid down her stomach to her aching core.

The alpha knew once he got this close to her beautiful heat there would be going back. Every day the taste of her would end up lingering on his tongue until he got to taste it again. The beautiful omega did things to him he could never explain to even her let alone anyone in the pack. Despite knowing this personal risk, Jungkook did what he craved for so long. Tongue moved up from her leaking hole to her throbbing clit. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how her whole body jerked at the new found pleasure.

Belle felt how his tongue licked at one particular spot that jolted a surge up her body making her jerk. In seconds, she felt his lips wrap around the small nub coaxing light moans to spew out of her while her fingers still tangled in his hair. “Jungkook…”

He moaned sending vibrations against her core. With a slight pop, Jungkook broke from his light snacking and bite onto her thighs like he always wanted.

The omega giggled affectionately caressing his head before he stood over her. A few messy steps and Belle dropped back onto the bed. Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched Jungkook strip himself of his clothes until they were both now bare. Lust blown eyes stared down at his twitching, hard member before licking her lips.

“Spread your legs.” Jungkook only had to tap her knee gently for her to move her legs apart more than enough for him to sneak in between. Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he rubbed the reddened tip against her clit making her throw her head back. “You want it, baby?”

Belle nodded frantically.

“I can’t hear you.” His tip poked at her slit. The little game tortured him as much it did her but he wanted to hear her beg.

“Yes, I want it..” She jerked her hips against his movements, gasping when the tip of his cock entered her slightly. “I want it so bad.”

She always knew how to touch that extra nerve in his body every single time. It was almost magical how the omega had so much control over him by being so perfectly submissive. Jungkook pushed his cock into her snug little hole with soaked ease, her cunt flowing making it all the more harder not to just pound her into oblivion. His hips moved slow letting the sounds of watery sloshing ring in his ears. Arms pressed down the sides of her body, hovering over the omega as he relished in her warm walls.

Belle held onto his forearm as she watched her pussy getting stretched by his cock. The amount of times she dreamed of this happening was a little embarrassing. Now that it was happening and his shaft inside her felt so invigorating, she could giggle in glee.

Their foreheads pressed together softly as Jungkook whispered. “You like that?”

She nodded, gasping and moaning. “Yeah…”

The one word was all that needed to be uttered for him to quicken his pace a little, skin slapping against each other ever so slightly. Jungkook shifted down to his elbows now as he caressed her cheek. “Don’t ever leave me like that again.” He whispered a little breathless, still thrusting into her steadily.

“I won’t…” Belle cupped his cheek, struggling to keep her gaze as the pleasure tickled her every nerve. “I won’t, I promise.”

Lips pressed against hers, tongue exploring everything he knew was willingly submitted to him tonight. Once the kiss broke the softness melted along with it as the alpha pounded into her cunt. Arms back up, muscles popping out furiously before hooking one of her legs over his shoulder.

Her moaning became an uneven pattern melting into the sounds of their wet skin grinding and slapping against each other. As soon as Jungkook leaned in closer, Belle muffled a few of her whimpers into a heated kiss while her hand moved down to find that little nub, rubbing it to match with his thrusts. The tight ball in her lower belly exploded before she could even expect it, her legs trembling and a flurry of moans passing her lips.

Jungkook felt her walls clench around him already feeling the pressure around his cock push him closer to his orgasm. His thrusts grew a little more brutal grabbing her hips and hammering into her while she gave him that beautiful, innocent smile to reassure him it was okay to keep going despite her sensitivity.

“Cum inside me…” She managed to say as her body literally shook with the force of his thrusts.

Her adorable whisper was all it took for the alpha to finally come undone, filling his beauty up with his seed in a sloppy and rough thrusts. Only until the last drop did he pull out slowly watching a little bit of his release dripping out of her.

“I’m yours now.” Belle giggled.

Naked, cleaner bodies cuddled together under the blankets now relishing in their new found intimacy after so long suffering distance and silence.

“Would you have gone with him?” Jungkook asked.

Belle sighed, heart sinking a little when all her true thoughts popped in her head first. “I didn’t want to. But I would’ve to save myself, I guess. Otherwise he could’ve just killed me.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Truthfully she did like the attention Taehyung gave her despite his less than chivalrous nature. He had a danger about him that was less creepy more intriguing but still nothing compared to what Jungkook made her feel. Though the omega did not want to ruin the new mood they had so her verbalizing answer only lingered in the air. “Would you have found someone else after I left?” She traced patterns on his chest.

The alpha gulped not knowing how to tell her that he had eyes on her for the longest time to a point where he barely noticed what the other members looked like. Granted they were pretty but a lot of people were ‘pretty’. “Probably not. None of them would taste as good as you.”

She giggled hiding her face in his torso. “You didn’t even taste me then.”

“No but you smelled really fucking good.” He smiled nudging the top of her head with his nose. “I thought I lost you…just for a second.”

“If an alpha came up to me after this, I will fight.”

“You will?”

“Of course…” She propped herself on her elbow and smiled up at him. “I’m yours now, remember?” She lay a small kiss on his chest.

Jungkook caressed her cheek, not being able to help mimicking a little smile of his own. “You’re mine.”

#jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #bts fanfiction #bts werewolf au #jungkook werewolf au #werewolf au #supernatural au #tw: smut

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twdbegins · 3 years

Note

Can I get some age gap Simon smut, like shes want him super rough with her but he think she wont be able to handle, but she takes all that he give her and more, please and thank you, if you can

I KNEW THE DAY WOULD COME WHERE SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS. AMAZING.

Rough Encounters

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut.

Word Count: 3,003

“Make no mistake, I’ve seen plenty.”

“You’re staring at him again.” Arat said plainly, not looking up from her knife in her hand.

She dragged the blade of her knife along the stick she had picked up, peeling away at the skin on the dead branch. You were leaning against one of the outside walls of the Sanctuary, shifting back and forth on your feet to keep warm. You and Arat were on fence duty, one of the most dull jobs on the planet. You were both trying to entertain yourselves with whatever you had on hand, since nothing really ever happened when you were on a fence shift.

Fence duty was always worse during the winter, because it was always freezing which made standing around watching chained up walkers even more miserable. However, with the dirty thoughts that were running through your mind, you were surprised you weren’t blazing warm.

“Do you think he’s any good in bed?” You asked, not looking away from the man from across the way that you were looking at.

Arat stopped slicing the stick and made a face of annoyed disgust.

“Oh my God. Not this again.” She groaned, recalling the last time you had brought this up.

You laughed at her reaction, removing your gaze from Simon. It was true, and even you wouldn’t deny it, you had the hots for the right-hand man. You had never been drawn to anyone like him before. He was tall, fit, strong, and very charismatic. Not to mention, he was at least 15 years older than you. You weren’t completely sure of his age, but you knew he had to be at least in his mid-thirties. You always ballparked him to be somewhere between 36 and 42, but it really made no difference to you.

“It’s a fair question.” You defended yourself.

She cocked her head at you, leaning forward on the makeshift bucket she was sitting.

“No, no, no. It is NOT a fair question, nor a conversation I want to have,” She scowled, tossing the stick aside; “You don’t have to see him everyday. I don’t want to think of your weird obsession with him every time we’re in a room together.”

“I’m not obsessed. I just want to fuck him.” You said very bluntly.

Arat let out a shriek and brought her hands to cover her ears.

“You damn kids and your high sex drives. My God...do you ever think before you bestow your dirty thoughts onto innocent bystanders?” She questioned, her eyes dead set on her feet.

You threw your hands out in mockery, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Arat, I’m closer to your age than his.” You pointed out.

She nodded furiously.

“Exactly! Which is why you shouldn’t want to bang him.” She argued.

You snorted.

“We’ve talked about sex a million times. Why does me and him bother you?” You queried, a devious smirk appearing on your face; “Do you know something I don’t know?”

Arat slowly turned her head to look at you. She removed her hands from her ears, staring at you blankly as if she were trying to process what you were insinuating.

“Oh, no you don’t! You do not get to make that joke. I have never, I repeat, NEVER had sex with him,” She shrilled; “Never have, never will.”

You laughed out loud, almost doubling over at her urgency.

“I’m the youngest Savior here. No one is that close to my age anyways,” You told her; “But I mean, come on. Have you SEEN him? Those thighs? Those arms?”

She hissed in disapproval, desperately wanting to end this conversation. She leapt up from where she sat, rubbing her frigid hands together.

“Absolutely not. Listen, if you want to get freaky in the sheets with him, then go ahead. If I had a body like yours then I’d put it to good use. Just don’t damage my image of him further,” She instructed; “By the way, it looks like you might’ve gotten his attention.”

You casually glanced over your shoulder to see Simon looking at you with his dark brown eyes. You gave him a flashy grin, which prompted him to make his way over to you. You and Arat still had another hour on fence duty, but she was not going to stick around for this.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” She announced, scuttling away before she had to witness the possibly sinful things about to come out of your mouth.

Simon swaggered over to you, your breath getting caught in your throat. Oddly enough, you had developed a friendship with Simon over the last year. You enjoyed his company, much more than just ogling over him all the time.

“Hi, Simon.” You greeted nicely.

“[Y/N],” He acknowledged you with a grin; “Looks like you lost your partner there.” He said, referring to Arat’s leave.

You shrugged.

“She was cold. I told her I could handle things out here,” You lied; “Mind taking her place?”

His grin morphed into more of a smirk, taking the adjacent spot next to you on the wall. His shoulder just barely touched yours, a flush of heat washing over you. You had to keep it together.

“Since when does Negan put you on fence duty?” You wondered aloud.

Simon rarely ever took a shift to watch the fences, considering that Negan wanted his services elsewhere. You were shocked that he was out here.

“Mark’s sick. I had to cover for him.” He claimed.

“You sure he’s not with Amber?” You chimed.

Simon’s brows raised slightly. Everyone, except Negan, knew that Amber was still sneaking around with Mark even though she was technically Negan’s wife. You had seen Simon cover for Mark before, so you knew this was no different.

“How’d you know?” He asked.

“Amber and I are close. She told me.”

Amber was one of Negan’s younger wives, but she still managed a relationship with Mark. You always hoped that Negan would never find out. More for Mark’s sake than Amber’s.

“We make sacrifices sometimes.” He said dryly, not really wanting to discuss how he had gone behind Negan’s back.

You nodded, but a sneaky smile appeared on your face.

“You know, Amber tells me a lot about Mark.” You began.

Simon was intrigued to see where you were going with this.

“Oh, yeah?” He prompted.

You nonchalantly picked at the chipped fingernail polish on your nails, as if you weren’t really aware of what you were saying.

“Yep. I never would’ve taken Mark to be much of a rough lover if Amber hadn’t told me all about it.” You spoke.

Simon stiffened a little. Neither of you had ever really talked about sex. You had mentioned previous partners and things like that, but nothing like this. You noticed his eyes were not on your face. You were wearing shorts, despite the cold weather. His eyes raked over your legs...your hips...your waist. You gave a sultry laugh. You knew he looked at you the same way you did him.

“You act like you’ve never seen a woman before.” You said suddenly.

His eyes flickered back to yours, feeling his nerves become a little more sensitive at the way your eyelashes fluttered. He chuckled lowly.

“Make no mistake, I’ve seen plenty.” He replied.

You weren’t shocked at that. You had a gut feeling that Simon knew his way around a woman. Still, you faked a stunned look.

“Have you? Hmm...” You hummed thoughtfully.

He raised a brow, turning to you.

“Don’t believe me?” He prodded.

You gave a slight shrug. You knew you could get him riled up enough for him to cave, but he wouldn’t make it easy.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He had to admit, he was shocked that you were hitting on him in such a bold way. He always assumed you’d go for Negan over him. He was thrilled, but he wasn’t going to show it.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” He chaffed.

You pushed your shoulders back a little to stand up a little straighter, but not moving from your casual position against the wall. His voice had lowered an octave or two, which was a little maddening.

“Oh, I think I do.” You returned with the same confident tone.

He laughed incredulously, his eyes darting around before settling back on you.

“How old are you?” He questioned.

He knew you were the youngest person at the Sanctuary, so the fact that this encounter was even happening was boggling his head a little bit. You raised a brow and lowered it. You had a feeling this was going to come up.

“22.” You answered.

He let out a low whistle. It had been a long time since he had fucked anyone that young. The last time he had gotten with a 22 year old was when he was that age. Needless to say, he had a couple decades of experience under his belt by this point.

“So you’re young and eager, huh?” He chided.

You scoffed, a bit offended at his words.

“You underestimate me.” You spoke.

He hummed.

“I don’t play nice. I play rough,” He purred; “You think you can handle that?”

He didn’t think you could. He was seriously doubtful that you’d make it past the foreplay without tapping out. You stood from the wall, standing so close that the tips of your shoes touched his.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” You suggested playfully.

He stared at you for another moment before crashing his lips roughly to yours. He brought his hand up and grabbed a fistful of your hair. He backed you into the inside of the Sanctuary, pushing you up against the nearest wall. His hand was still in your hair, yanking your head back and sucking hard on your neck. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but enough to surely get your attention and send waves of pleasure through you. He growled low in his throat and continued to nip at your neck.

“I can have my way with you,” He announced, his voice muffled in the skin of your neck; “I can make a hell of a lot prettier noises come out of you too.”

“I want to see you try.” You tried to say confidently, but it came out more of a desperate whine.

You let out a surprised gasp when he suddenly kissed you again, nothing short of rough and hot. You let out a hum, and he pulled back and looked at you with so much lust that you felt a shiver travel down your spine. His hands were tight and firm on your waist, keeping you completely pressed against him. His pupils were blown twice their usual size.

He pulled you from the wall, not letting your lips leave his. Normally, he’d at least make it to his bedroom, but he wanted to see just how risky you wanted to get. He navigated you into the stairwell, somewhere that was somewhat public, but isolated too.

“You scared Negan’s gonna find us?” You questioned with a sneer.

He stared at you in disbelief. He had to admit, you were holding up better than he thought. He pressed his back against the wall, getting right into it.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded.

He was being intimidating, but it was only more thrilling for you. You smirked as you slowly sank to the floor, your knees hitting the concrete. You looked away for a split second to get situated, but his hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Eyes on me.” He said, looking down at you.

You looked up at him, eyes shining with desire and expectation. His gaze studied your every move and expression. You went to quickly put your hair up, but he stopped you.

“Don’t touch your hair.” He said, holding it up himself.

You ran your hands over his hips, trailing to his pants. You unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He sprung forth in front of you, and he moved one hand to the top of your head. You eyed his tip for a millisecond, so quickly that he didn’t even notice your break of eye contact. You left a kiss on his tip, earning a groan from him.

You put your mouth over his length, suddenly gagging when he shoved your head further into his crotch. He pulled out.

“You better take it.” He said, shoving back into your mouth again.

You were prepared this time, swallowing around him and working through the reflex. You sucked and kissed, a moan escaping from the man above you. His grip was unchanged on your head, but his fingers were stroking gently. His words came out a bit mumbled as he continued to slam back into your mouth.

“Shit...you’ve done this before.” He muttered.

You hummed in affirmation, grinning around him. His hand in your hair pulled your head back and he rocked his hips roughly into your mouth. Then pulled back and rocked into you over and over. You sucked and ran your tongue along his shaft, kissing each time you made your way back to the tip. He was fighting the urge to praise you, but it slipped out. You felt THAT good around him.

“Such a good girl…” He breathed; “You’re so pretty on your knees for me.”

You stopped sucking for a second, offering a praise of your own.

“I have to say, you’re bigger than I thought.” You said, taking him back into your mouth.

He rolled his hips into you again in response, you almost giggled at the way his eyes rolled back into his head. He thrusted a few more times before removing himself from your mouth, watching you swallow his pre-ejaculation. You noticed the fire in his eyes had returned.

He pulled you from the floor forcefully, snatching the zipper down on your shorts. He stopped cold when he realized you hadn’t been wearing anything underneath it the entire night. You fought the urge to grin at his face. His eyes raked over you, he was hungry for you.

“Seems I’ve forgotten something. It slipped my mind, I suppose.” You grinned.

His expression was dead serious, as he pulled you to his half-naked body. You began to unbutton his shirt, whipping it off of him in a flash. He removed your shirt and bra, taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your soft flesh, you held back a high-pitched moan. Which made Simon stop.

“You scared Negan’s gonna hear you?” He mocked; “I want to hear you.”

He took your other nipple into his mouth as you let out a loud groan. He gripped one of your shoulders, spinning you to where you were against the wall. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around him. He licked his fingers, quickly lubricating you. He was moving so fast and so precisely that you knew one thing for sure.

He wasn’t going to go easy on you.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs to hold you steady. He lined himself up and pressed into you finally. Your heart fluttered at the feeling you had been craving for so long now. He pulled out almost completely and slammed hard back into you. He didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size, but it didn’t take you long. You raised one of your arms above your head, pressing your palm into the wall behind you.

“Oh, God. Yes, Simon.” You huffed out.

He knew now that you were much more experienced than he formerly realized.

“You feel so good.” You panted, bringing your other hand to the back of his head.

He held you higher for that, giving him a better angle so he could go deeper. Simon then slid out and slammed in as far as he could, groaning at the feeling and the sounds you were making. Delicious noises were coming from both of you, pure feelings of ecstasy and desire. He began to fuck you hard and fast until the sounds of your cries and his moans were echoing off of the walls. He sucked a hard hickey into your neck, moving even faster at your pleasure filled moans.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know what’s going on in that head of yours,” He grunted; “Wondering what it would feel like for an older guy to fuck you senseless.”

“Please, Si.” You pleaded.

“What, baby?” He purred.

“Harder.” You said, not even able to string a sentence together.

He was totally stunned now, not even sure he had heard you right. He obliged though, pounding so hard into you that you moaned each time he went back in. He’d be surprised if you could even walk tomorrow.

“Is this what you wanted?” He huffed, feeling his release building fast.

“Yes. Oh, fuck yes.” You confirmed.

In response, he rubbed hard circles on your clit. A new round of whimpers escaping your chest. The hot coil in your belly was growing quickly. He could feel it. He sped up his pace, feeling you tighten around him as you released.

He slammed into you again, his cock pulsing hard before filling you completely. He groaned into your shoulder as he came. Your final squeak announced your finish as well, your body going limp around him.

Your mind was reeling. You never thought he’d be able to do that. Your breathings were erratic and fast, as you tried to recover. He rested his forehead against yours. He kissed you lazily, knowing that this wasn’t the last time this would happen.

“I have to admit that you were right.” He said after a few moments.

You looked at him with flushed cheeks, your head in a total fog. You smiled.

“About what?” You wondered.

He kissed you again.

“I totally underestimated you.”

#the walking dead simon #simon x reader #simon twd #twd #simon x reader twd #simon twd x reader #simon twd fanfic #simon the walking dead #simon twd imagines #twdbegins

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another-fantasy-world · 3 years

Text

The Bets

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

GIF isn’t mine

Pairing: Elle Greenaway x Fem! Reader, Jemily

Summary: A little session of betting stupid shit with Morgan, Garcia and Dr. Reid gone wrong. or in which Elle and Y/N join the Mile High Club

Warnings: 18+ Mile High Club. (Which means light smut okay?) Brief Classic CM violence. Jemily cuteness and soft Elle.

Word Count: 2,016 words

Anyone ever wondered what it’d be like if Agent Greenaway worked with Agent Prentiss? I don’t think we were ready for the amount of POWER these two would have if they did work together. The amount of death glares and sass towards assholes and misogynistic men-

also, the lack of Elle fanfics is now considered a crime-

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It all started when you walked into the bullpen, bee lining to your desk, setting down your stuff and immediately hearing Morgan’s chuckles and Garcia’s giggling while they huddled around Reid’s desk.

“Ohhhkay? What is going on? I understand that like, there’s no case yet today but it’s waaaay too early for you guys to be giggling.” You furrowed your brows at them

“Nothing is going on cutie pie. You just made me win a bet. “ Garcia looked smug while Morgan just glared playfully

“How was I supposed to know that they didn’t have fun last night, much less leave a hickey?” He says, referring to you and Elle

Being the only couple who’s been formally approved by Hotch, Strauss and the HR, the both of you were proud of your relationship. Elle often comes in after you because you make her fetch your coffee in the morning, and you often disappear during lunch because you were off on a food run for her.

And don’t even get me started on her glaring at men who had the audacity to flirt with you, then smirking when you turn them down with an emotionless look on your face. She was yours and you were hers, and you both weren’t afraid to announce that.

“Oh we did. Just not last night. It was this morning.” you nonchalantly says, shrugging your shoulders

“Did you know that morning sex is better than evening sex? Men can experience a daily 25-50% differential in testosterone in the morning, translating to a huge appetite for early sex. For women, however, significant changes in testosterone don’t happen daily, but monthly, with the largest increase happening mid-month during ovulation and that increase is not nearly as dramatic as what men experience...” Reid rants, making you all stare at him, not moving so as to not interrupt him.

“Thank you Reid for that interesting fact, where did you even learn that?” you ask him, you were truly curious as to where the doctor reads his facts when it was apparent that he hated the internet.

“Encyclopedia.” he states, a little giddy from just sharing what he knows.

“Psst. Lovergirl. Here comes your own personal devil.” Derek wiggled his brows, pointing with his eyes to the door, knowing that it’s Elle you just smirked and laughed.

“One, Lovergirl? Really? You couldn’t think of better nicknames?” You started, turning around to get your coffee from Elle, kissing her cheek

“Derek called you the devil.” You whispered to her

“What?” Elle playfully shoves Morgan

“Hey! No snitching!” He whined

Elle just gave him a pointed look before turning around, her desk just in front of Reid’s. She sits down before stealing your coffee. Your lips barely open to complain, but closed immediately when she gave you that same look she gave you earlier today when she was sipping...something else. With wide eyes and tomato red cheeks, you mumbled incoherent words before just walking away, embarrassed. You even forgot that she stole your café made coffee, all you could think of is Elle’s lips on yours, slowly kissing down-

Your cheeks reddened even more when you heard Morgan guffaw. Pouting slightly, you directed your attention to the stack of paperwork piled on your desk. You sorted them out first before actually doing it. A few minutes pass by and you feel a presence behind you, then they block your light, indicating they were tall and buff...

“What do you want Morgan?” You sighed out, closing a case file, moving into another one. Wanting to just finish and come home with your girlfriend and just cuddle.

“Bet you can’t make Elle blush like she did you.” He proudly stated

You looked at him with a ‘I’m so done with you’ face, you could see that he was serious and you just sighed, you might as well entertain yourself.

“You wanna put money on that?” Famous last words.

Morgan put 50 bucks on the line and you just couldn’t resist, you went on with your day as usual, frowning when you sift through tons of paperwork, dragging your feet just to get coffee from that damn awful coffee machine and finally, asking for Hotch’s permission to go out and get lunch which he approved, getting your keys, kissing Elle’s cheek, rushed out and went to that one food chain that both you and your girlfriend loved.

Girlfriend. Such a common word, but you and Elle made it special. All the emotions and feelings compiled in a 10 letter word, all the pain, tears, blood (you got shot protecting her and she slapped you when you woke up just because of that. But that’s also where she first kissed you, so no complaints really), pining, and happiness you guys went through just to get to this point.

Arriving at the BAU office, you hurried up, shifting your weight from one leg to the other as you watch the numbers go up anxiously, the line stretched on and on, making you at least 5 minutes late. Elle gets cranky when she’s hungry, and for your sake and the rest of the team, you hurried your ass up.

When the elevator finally arrived at your floor, you rush to Elle’s desk, who’s now glaring at the computer screen.

“Bubba~ I’m so sorry. Here, I’ll make it up to you” You set down the paper bags on her desk, you made sure to get extra just to make it up to her.

As you set down the paper bags, you discreetly leaned down, placing your lips right beside her ear and nibbled on it a bit, your hair providing the necessary curtain of privacy you needed. You quietly moaned as you briefly whispered a few profanities into her ear before straightening yourself up. Smirking at how red Elle’s ears and cheek are, you looked over to Morgan who was now staring, dumbfounded.

You smiled smugly at him, lifting your hand up and motioning for him to give you his --well, your money. He frowned before slapping the crisp 50 dollar bill on your hands, huffing in annoyance.

“You betted on me?” she gave you that ‘no non-sense bitch face’ thing, and your blood ran cold. You could remember what happened the last time she gave you that look. You weren’t able to sit on a chair properly for weeks.

“Oh- Uhm. Erm. You just eat your food yeah? I have paperwork to finish.” You turned to get away from her, but she tugged your shirt from behind.

She puts her palm out and looks at you expectantly. You pout at her with your pleading eyes but she just raised her eyebrow at you. You groaned and went to give it to her, only to be interrupted by JJ.

“We’ve got a case?” You ask her, discreetly slipping the bill in your back pocket.

“But there’s only 45 minutes, 15 seconds and 3 milliseconds left.” Reid whines

“Sorry Guys. Hotch says we’ll debrief on the jet.” She says, walking off holding the files while Emily lifted both their go-bags to her shoulders, following JJ, making you roll your eyes at their obviousness.

You looked at Elle and she stared back at you, smirking and nodding at each other before hurrying to gather your stuff.

Once everyone settled in, Garcia popped onto the computer screen and she explained the details of your case. There were multiple strings of suicides following a major highway, but there were a couple items missing. Jewelry, electronics etc. You concluded that it’s most likely an organized unsub, who steals and framing the victims as suicide, but in multiple ways. 3 women were hanged, four were shot in the head, 3 shot in the stomach and 7 stabbed, yet there weren’t any blood trails around.

After the debriefing, the team settled down, deciding to take a nap during flight. Reid was curled up in the couch, his book in his hand that’s draping down to the floor, Hotch with his head on the table and Rossi with his head leaning on the window, Lastly, Morgan who was reclining his seat, slept with his earphones on. JJ and Emily are nowhere to be seen so you just assumed that they were cuddling somewhere.

No words were spoken. Both you and Elle just basking in each others presence. Occasionally sharing opinions on what you think of the unsub, and then she just stared at you with a look in her eyes.

“Elle? Bubs?” You ask her, you always were the one for nicknames, you made one up as soon as you met her, and how it slowly changed from scary girl, to pretty girl and now to Bubs and Bubba. It really amazes her.

“Come with me.” She whispered, dragging you to the plane lavatory.

She locks the door and stares at you. You gulp as the two of you were pressed against each-other in a tight space. She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you in a passionate kiss, like she was afraid you would suddenly vanish. Sadly, both of you need air, pulling away for just a second before your lips attach to her neck, being careful not to leave marks, You really don’t think Hotch would like the thought of the two of you doing each-other in such a public place with him in a 20 mile radius.

After a few moments filled to the brim with muffled and silent moans, euphoria, smirks, punishments and hair-pulling later, the both of you fixed yourself. When you both looked appropriate enough, Elle opens the door to a JJ who’s also opening the door to the other lavatory right across yours, with a panting Emily sitting on the toilet.

You peeked over Elle’s shoulder and seeing the scene in front of you. Safe to say you were shocked. Really shocked.

“Emily’s a bottom?!” You whisper-shouted in disbelief, making both of them blush and your girlfriend chuckle.

“Guess who owes me a hundred bucks?” She smirks at you

“Noooo. Ellie. Please, I bring you lunch everyday!.” You pleaded as you follow her to where you were previously sitting.

“Uh-huh, No backing out on bets remember?” She pulls you to her side, hugging you from her seat. She rarely shows affection in public like this so you usually ingrain it in your memories, take notes or just plainly cherish it, living in the moment.

“But a hundred?”

“You won fifty from Morgan earlier and I want it back.”

“But I won that fair and square”

“You used me to gain that money Bubs, I don’t like that.” You grumbled but gave her a hundred bucks anyways, smiling slightly when you remember that she’s the one who buys the coffee for the both of you anyways.

“Hey, uhm-”

“Everyone knows.” You and Elle simultaneously replied when JJ and Emily sat in front of you

“Honestly, did the both of you think that we wouldn’t find out? We’re profilers for heaven’s sake!” You deadpanned, playfully glaring at them

“I think we did a pretty good job at hiding actually.” Emily scoffed

You glanced at Elle, barely containing your laughs before returning your sights to the couple in front of you,

“Em can you help me with something?” “Jayje? Can you come over? Sergio needs a babysitter” “Em can you pick Henry up? Michael needs a haircut” “I played a lot of scrabble with some girl named ‘CheetoBreath’” You mimicked the both of them, pretending to be talking to someone on the phone.

“Okay! Okay! Stop. Stop-” Emily playfully glares as she and JJ both have red cheeks.

You and Elle continued teasing the couple for a few more minutes before moving from topic to topic, ranging from double dates to near death encounters that scared the shit out of your girlfriends.

It’s moments like this that make your gruesome job bearable, the teasing, the laughter, the feeling of family. You could never imagine yourself working with other teams at all. And that, in your opinion, is what makes the BAU indestructible, no matter what the consequences may be.

#elle greenaway #elle greenaway x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #jemily #cheetobreath #criminal minds imagine #jennifer jareau x emily prentiss

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

starstruck ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “Can I request some age gap Spencer x reader. Maybe he’s nervous about approaching her for a relationship bc she’s younger, but he’s so goofy for her it’s he’s in love obvious. Pretty pls 🥺💕” 5222 words

a/n: i didn’t specify ages cause i wasn’t sure what people would be comfortable with so i just mentioned an age gap and leave the rest up to you!! i would happily date someone twice my age but i also have daddy issues so :)

masterlist

The day has finally arrived.

Mollie can call you a nerd all she wants, but you know the second she lays eyes on Derek Morgan or Emily Prentiss she’ll change her tune.

This event has been in the university’s calendar since the beginning of the semester. At least two members of the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit were promised to give a talk about their department, even taking you through a solved case like an interactive documentary, to encourage students to consider joining the academy post-graduation. There was whispers they’d even stick around after to answer some questions.

Your other friend, Jen, the one that understands your excitement, wrote your names down for tickets immediately. You’ve had a countdown on your phone ever since.

“They’ve announced a last-minute guest,” She beams, just as giddy as you. You’re wasting time at the coffee house near the auditorium, waiting for Mollie to arrive.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

You almost drop your cookie in shock and stare at her, pupils blown.

“You’re a big fan?” She smirks.

As nonchalantly as you can, you lean back in your chair, “I’m a fan of his work, yes.”

“Oh, his work?”

“Don’t start.”

“I bet you love his work.”

“He’s well-versed and his papers are super interesting-“

“His papers are super interesting-“

“You are a child.”

Just then, Mollie appears, checking her watch. You wish you could kiss her in thanks for saving you from the teasing that would likely never end. “We’re gonna be late for your morbid seminar if you two don’t stop bickering.”

Jen downs the rest of her drink, you shove the last of the cookie in your mouth. Mollie watches your excitement in amusement – your heart starts pumping, whole body buzzing, the same nervousness you felt when you were a preteen right before your first ever One Direction concert. It’s the kind of nervousness that makes your palms sweaty.

Is it evolution or devolution to go from sweating over One Direction to sweating over FBI profilers?

+++

The seminar goes on for an hour, including the questions people ask throughout. It’s everything you could’ve asked for, entertaining and so, so informative and although you weren’t considering joining the FBI before, suddenly it’s all you can think about. Guest speakers have that affect, don’t they? They make you wonder if you should drastically change everything you’ve been planning.

Even Mollie, who you had to threaten to tag along, ended up enjoying herself. “Maybe I learnt a thing or two,” She’d said, rolling her eyes playfully.

You and your friends are some of the last to leave. There’s quite the bustling outside, which you assume is just post-seminar chatter, but you and Jen falter in your steps when you see the exact profilers that had been onstage several minutes ago in front of you, happily interacting and talking to fellow students.

“Oh, man,” Jen whispers, her and Mollie making eye contact across you. “I have to see if I can talk to Emily.”

Mollie encourages her with a frantic, “Go! Go!” while you’re rooted in place. Mollie jabs you with a pointed nail, “You in there, Y/N? I’m sure you have loads of questions for them-“

You stutter and shake your head, “N-no. I’m good. You can try and hit on Derek, if you want.”

You give a half-attempt at a smile, barely lifting the corners of your lips. Mollie recognises that look. She wants to stay with you, check you’re not too overwhelmed, but you shoo her away and send her towards Derek. You breathe a sigh of relief – you’ve been friends with her long enough that she knows when you need space.

There’s something about seeing people you admire so abruptly that totally throws you for a loop. All you had prepared for was seeing them from afar and subsequently talking about it forever, but nothing beyond that. In some circumstances, it’d be a pleasant surprise, but for someone that struggles around strangers and especially around people as admirable as profilers, you are not mentally prepared for this and have therefore shut down.

But then you see him.

He’s shuffling in place in the corner of the room, close to a large potted plant like it’s his only friend. He’s nibbling his lip as his eyes flutter around, never staying somewhere for longer than a second, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Why is no one talking to him? He’s Spencer Reid.

There’s a couple of people surrounding Emily, fully entranced by whatever story she’s relaying, another few people around Derek, chortling at a joke he just made. Spencer glances between them and their audiences, and you can’t help but wonder why he isn’t right next to them, chatting away, too.

Does he not want to talk to anyone?

You should talk to him.

No. He probably wants to be alone.

Or what if he doesn’t and no one else is talking to him which means you can have a one-on-one conversation? What about that?

Are you insane?

…

You have to talk to him.

Before you can change your mind, you’re approaching him with a tight grip on the handle of your bag, pushing it higher up your shoulder. He spots you and makes eye contact just as you stop in front of him, and you notice he momentarily tightens his grip on his satchel.

Was this a bad idea?

“Hi,” You breathe, “I’m Y/N. A big fan.”

His eyes widen a fraction, which you don’t understand because why else would you be here, but he smiles nonetheless, “Hi, I’m, uh, Spencer Reid.”

“I know.”

“Yes, you know. That makes sense, because you were in the seminar. I saw you.”

Now you’re shocked. For as long as you can remember you never sit in the centre of a room, where most attention seems to go, so how did he-

“I-I always scan the room I’m in its.. it’s not a creepy thing, I swear. I’m not creepy.”

A laugh escapes you at that, making him visibly relax. “I don’t think you’re creepy. There was just.. a lot of people in there, so I’m surprised you remember my face.” You shrug.

I couldn’t forget such a beautiful face.

You don’t know what happens, but Spencer suddenly tenses up. His back straightens and he looks alarm, stiff.

Did he just think that? What.. why did he think that?

You wonder if you’ve said something wrong, so you try to change the topic.

“I-I have a question, if you don’t mind answering.”

Spencer nods with an of course, and when the question rolls off your tongue, his mind is still reeling from subconsciously calling you beautiful in his head. It’s not untrue, but it feels.. inappropriate. He doesn’t know why. But you are beautiful.

As he scans your face, now much closer than in the auditorium, he realises yeah, you are incredibly beautiful.

You wave a hand in front of his face, “Doctor Reid?”

“Sorry, yes, sorry. What are you studying?”

There’s a light in your eyes that Spencer recognises when you say, “Psychology.”

“Thought so.”

“You probably talk to a lot of psychology students. I-um. I almost went to Caltech,” Spencer raises an eyebrow, "After I read your dissertation, it really inspired me to look into it – your dissertation is incredible, by the way.”

Spencer smiles bashfully, a futile attempt to not allow the grin to overtake his face, and thanks you, “I appreciate it. Actually, I was sixteen when I wrote it.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Your eyes widen, “You’re insane! You’re amazing!”

The praise bursts from you, and his blushing face makes you oddly proud. On the other hand, Spencer feels like you’ve set him alight, his blood pumping loudly in his ears, as he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your smile.

He desperately needs to change the topic.

“To answer your question…”

Derek notices you two interacting across the room. Mollie sees him looking and hums, “Oh, that’s Y/N, my best friend. She really likes Spencer.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Looks like he really likes her.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll collapse.”

They both watch you for a second, Spencer flailing his arms as he explains, you eagerly adding to his rambling, asking a question here and exclaiming some kind of encouragement there. It’s sweet, Derek thinks.

“Hey..” Mollie begins, a scheming look in her eye, “We’re planning to hang out in the campus bar later. It’s open to all and the drinks are cheap. If you and Emily happen to find yourselves looking for something to do and you drag Spencer along.. I’m sure Y/N would like it.”

“I like the way you think,” Derek says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

+++

“She’s getting hit on. Again.” You giggle, gesturing for Jen to turn around and witness Mollie get your drinks paid for by a random guy.

She’s always been a people person – it’s saved you hundreds on nights out.

All Jen does is glance over her shoulder, scoff, then turn her sceptical eyes to you.

“I saw you and Spencer Reid.” She says, twinkling eyes. She’s trying not to look smug.

“I almost proposed to him.” You joke, taking your drink from Mollie with a mumbled thanks.

“Oh, I bet you did,” She laughs, “You two looked sooo good together.”

“Alright,” You slide a shot to each girl, “I know you’re making fun of me, but I’m taking that compliment and cherishing it. Spencer Reid is cute, what of it?!”

You clink the shot glasses with your friends and down them, all wincing at the taste and giggling at Jen when she takes a gulp of her cocktail to wash away the taste of straight vodka.

“How did talking to Derek and Emily go?”

And then Jen starts chattering away.

You miss the bar door opening behind you, But Mollie notices. She’s been watching the door since they got here, conveniently choosing the table with the best view, just in case some profilers decided to stop by.

Derek catches Mollie’s eye and winks.

“Well I never,” Mollie fakes shock, “Look who just walked through the doors.”

You turn and choke on your drink. Emily and Derek look relax, like they’re home, but Spencer?

He looks just like he did earlier: like there’s a million places he’d rather be.

He’s lost the blazer he was wearing earlier, leaving him in a fitted purple shirt with a matching tie. With the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you can see his firm hands and the silver watch that rests on his wrist – is it possible for a watch to be sexy? Or maybe it’s just cause he’s sexy?

That shot must be getting to you.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You hiss, a sharp whisper piercing the air as you turn and (terribly) try to hide your face.

But Spencer’s seen you. He spotted you the moment they came in – he recognised your clothes and your hair – and the second he did he turned right back around to exit the bar. Derek’s arm stopped him at his chest, like he does to unsubs, forcefully turning him around and laughing when Spencer tensed up.

“What, Reid? Scared of a pretty girl?” Derek teases, much like he’d been doing since he spoke to you earlier.

“I am scared of college girls, yes. Last time I was in a college bar I was twelve and downed shots of apple juice.”

“What?!” Both Emily and Derek stop short, looks of disbelief at the revelation. “You’ve never mentioned that.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“We,” Derek places his hands on Spencer’s shoulders, directing him to your table, “Are just gonna have a few drinks and talk to a few people, and then you’re gonna explain that apple juice story in explicit detail- hey ladies!”

Jen and Mollie look overjoyed at the new company, while you stare rigidly with distinctive what the fuck eyes.

“Would you mind if we joined you?” Emily asks, with a sparkling grin that no one could say no to.

“Of course not,” Jen grins, like it’s the most obvious answer.

The empty seat next to you is taken by Spencer (Derek discreetly shoves him) but right before he’s firmly placed on the stool, Emily calls out, “Spence, why don’t you get us some drinks? You still owe us after you lost that game of gin..”

“I didn’t lose.” Spencer huffs indignantly, “You cheated.”

Despite his grunts, he stands to make his way to the bar, but not before-

“Y/N!” Mollie beams, “It’s your turn to get the round, if you’d be so kind.”

You know that look on her face. You hate her, you realise, but you also love her because being alone with Spencer sends a thrill through you.

Alone with Spencer. What the hell are you supposed to say to him?

You follow him to the bar. He leans against it with an awkward smile.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey.”

“It’s uh.. it’s been a long time since we’ve seen eachother.” It’s a half attempt at a joke, followed by instant regret. But then you giggle and everything feels right in the world, even Spencer’s sucky joke.

“It has been a while, Doctor Reid.” You say. The bartender approaches, takes your orders, then you turn to Spencer, “What brings you to a college bar, of all places?”

“Well,” Spencer glances over your shoulder to your table. He makes eye contact with every single person there, all watching you two interact, and they all sharply turn and try to play it off like they’ve been talking casually. Spencer’s brows furrow a little. “Derek said the drinks are cheap and our hotel is only a couple blocks away. I don’t know, maybe Derek likes college girls.”

You laugh again, and Spencer has to take a second to realise you’re not laughing at him but at what he said about Derek. “Yeah, Derek seems like a real ladies man.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” Spencer grins, “We once timed him to see how long it would take to get a girls number and he did it in five minutes. And he said he was having a bad day.”

The drinks are placed in front of you. Neither of you notice.

You unconsciously lean closer, saying, “Have you timed it to see how long it takes for a girl to approach him? That’s gotta be, like, maybe ten minutes?”

“Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“Well damn. Has he always been so…” A hand gestures in the air, looking for the word.

“Promiscuous?”

“I was gonna say free.”

“Free?” Spencer giggles, “That’s very nice of you.”

You shrug, “I don’t judge.” Spencer agrees, and it slips out, “What about you?”

You wish you could shove the words back in your mouth. Even more so when his expression changes. You can’t entirely make out what it is, but even in the dimly lit bar you can see the flush of heat that spreads through his cheeks to his ears.

“Are you asking me if I’m free with the ladies?” He murmurs, suppressing a grin.

You give an awkward laugh, wondering if you’ve overstepped a boundary, “Yeah. But that’s kinda weird to ask, so-“

“I’m so popular with the ladies it puts Derek to shame.”

You can’t hide your surprise. “What? Really?”

Spencer caves. “No. Is it that hard to believe I’m a ladies man?”

“Compared to Derek? Yes.”

Spencer scoffs.

+++

“As adorable as they are, it’s been thirty minutes.” Emily sighs. “I want my drink.”

“They’re bonding,” Jen sends a wistful look, “I’m so proud.”

“I’m guessing Y/N isn’t the most social either?” Derek asks, proudly watching you interact.

“She’s the best, just a little shy sometimes.” She smiles at you, even though you can’t see, “She’s an idiot, but our idiot, you know?”

Both Emily and Derek laugh airily, nodding with a, “Yeah, we know.”

At once, three phones vibrate throughout the bar – Emily, Derek and Spencer. They’re instantly filled with disappointment; Derek can’t watch Spencer attempt to flirt with a girl he’s obviously interested in, Emily still hasn’t got a drink, and Spencer has to leave you and he can’t think of anything worse.

He’s clearly hesitant when he looks at his phone. How does he say goodbye? Does he ask for your number? Would that be weird? That would be weird.

“Uhh…”

You channel every ounce of liquid courage you have in your body and offer, “Would it be weird if I gave you my number? Just.. for anything. Anything at all.”

Spencer nods, a gentle look in his eyes and a smile on his face, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You mumble an alright, accepting Spencer’s phone and creating a new contact for yourself.

Please text me. You think. Please text me.

+++

He doesn’t text.

It’s been a week. A week. You know how cases are, some take longer than others and some are solved in literal hours, but it’s been a week, Spencer goddamn Reid, so why haven’t you texted me.

That’s when the doubt creeps in. Your friends keep telling you he’ll text, that he’s just busy (“He’s an FBI agent, Y/N. If you start dating you’re gonna have to get used to lapses in contact.” To which you’re too distracted choking at the mention of you two dating), but you can’t help but wonder if he took your number simply so he could leave quicker. He had a case to get to, after all. He had people to save.

Now you feel guilty. You forced your number on him, didn’t you? Oh God, he hates you. He hates you and you forced your number on him and he hasn’t texted you because he’s filing a restraining order against you because he hates you.

Mollie tells you you need a nap.

+++

Spencer spends the time on the jet back from the case staring at your number. He has it memorised, of course, and has had it memorised from the first time he read it, of course, but he can’t bring himself to do anything with it.

All he’s done is change your contact picture from the standard first letter of your name to a cute picture of a frog Garcia sent him. It reminds him of you.

Derek lowers his headphones, “You texted her yet, Pretty Boy?”

“Huh? Uh, no. I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer shrugs, locking his phone and placing it face down. “I don’t think anything would come from it.”

“Kid,” Derek leans forward, eyebrows furrowed, “You two talked for well over thirty minutes in the middle of a college bar about God knows what. Maybe I’m easy to impress, but that seemed pretty special to me.”

“How is talking in a college bar worth anything?”

“Because you’re Reid, who, most of the time, has to be physically dragged into a bar. You hate talking to strangers about anything other than work. Y/N? A stranger. What did you two talk about?”

“We talked about you a little.”

“Uhuh. About how good I am at my job?”

“God, no,” Spencer scrunches his nose, “We talked about your charm with the ladies.”

Derek falls back in his chair and scoffs, “I’m flattered, but that doesn’t sound like work-talk to me. So you’re comfortable with her. I saw you laughing, so she makes you laugh, too. Sounds pretty great to me.”

Spencer stares. Derek’s right, but..

“So what is it, Reid?”

Spencer licks his lips. “Do you think she’s too young for me?”

Derek rarely looks taken aback, but he does now, “Too young?”

“She’s in college. I’m-I’m-“

“A legal adult. As is she.”

Spencer slumps. “A 2014 Current Population Survey found the average difference for a heterosexual couple is two-point-three years, with the man older than the woman. Even if you double that, that’s still less than me and Y/N-“

“Four years isn’t a lot, Spence,”

“You just.. you don’t think it’s weird?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Derek’s conviction gives Spencer some reassurance, but he can’t help himself when he thinks that.. maybe.. you’ll find him boring. Most people seem to, with all his statistics and figures and facts, but with the added element of you living it up at college.. how could he compete?

“I think you’re worrying over nothing, Reid. You haven’t even texted her, and you’re already worrying about stuff like age gaps?” Derek crosses his hands and looks at Spencer with determination, “She gave you her number. She initiated it. She knows who you are, so she knows how old you are and it doesn’t seem to make her uncomfortable. So, why should it make you?”

Spencer just grunts.

“Are you worried people will say things?”

“I guess.”

“People always say things. You know that better than anyone. So screw ‘em.”

Spencer feels a smile creep onto his face.

And Derek relaxes. He’s planted the seeds, that Spencer is fretting over nothing, now all he’s got to do is wait for Spencer to let it sink in and allow the flowers to bloom and, next thing you know, Spencer’s gonna have himself the perfect girlfriend.

And Derek will take too much credit for it.

+++

“Heeeeeeeeey my precious Doctor…”

Garcia looks like her hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Spencer’s back straightens. “What did you do?”

She looks embarrassed, fiddling with the fluffy pen in her hand. She smiles awkwardly. “Derek may have told me about a pretty little college student that captured your heart, and then he told me you also haven’t texted her yet, so I did a little digging and…”

“You cyber-stalked Y/N?” Emily asks, casually. JJ seems unphased at the discussion. Does everyone in the office know about you?

“I did. I’m guilty. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.” She’s speaking a mile a minute.

Emily spares Spencer a glance, “Did you find anything?”

“Well…”

Concern fills Spencer. “Did something happen?”

“I just found some stuff she’d probably only tell a close friend and I feel really bad about it.” Her shoulders are by her ears as she tries to fold in on herself out of guilt, “But other than that she’s a genuinely sweet girl who volunteers at pet shelters and the college library in her free time and we have really similar music tastes so I think we’d make great friends.”

They all look to Spencer, waiting for his reaction. What? Is he supposed to be surprised that you’re the epitome of perfect? He’s not. He studied you the entire time you spoke.

“She’s also written several incredible papers on child development that I think are revolutionary and I totally emailed them to you because I think you should read them. She’s also a genius.”

Spencer’s hand twitches. He ignores the sudden need to check his email.

It’s silent as they just stare at him. He doesn’t say anything and tries not to react, but he does. They notice how his eyes flicker to his phone, how his leg fidgets, the longing in his eyes.

Emily brushes her hair back calmly and asks, “Hey, Pen, when does Y/N work at the college library?”

Penelope doesn’t catch on at first, casually replying, “Oh, basically every day from five pm onwards. They’re a twenty-four hour library and she combines working and studying.” When she sees Emily pointedly look at Spencer, she goes ohhh.

“Good to know,” Emily nods, “Good to know.”

+++

Spencer finds himself at the college library that night.

He wants to say it was an accident, or that he just happens to know there’s a special edition of a specific book here, but he’d be lying. He read your papers between reports, and found himself having a deep appreciation for the way you write – he wants to ready everything you’ve ever written. Every essay, every note, every formal and informal piece of work you’ve ever done.

He’s already fallen in love with the way you write. He doesn’t think he’s far from falling in love with you.

He wanders around the lower floor of the library. It’s impressive, he must admit, and he’s disappointed in himself for not visiting earlier. There’s students everywhere, but he notices some other people mixed in too – professors, businesspeople, as well as parents with their children.

He feels a little less weird for creeping around now.

Not that’s he’s creeping. He’s just.. there. To see a certain someone under the guise of looking for a book.

He moseys for a while, from the fiction section to the non-fiction to comics to autobiographies. You’re nowhere to be found – not between the rows of books, not working on any of the desks, not at the centre reception desk.

Until you’re suddenly behind him.

“Spencer?”

He jumps, looking up from the book he’s reading. Your voice is as calming and smooth as always.

“Y/N. Hi.”

“Hi,” Your brows are furrowed, but you’re not disappointed by the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts the book he’s holding, an Arthur Conan Doyle, giving a light lipped smile. “I’m just looking. I didn’t realise the college library was so plentiful – did you know the oldest library in the world dates from the seventh century BC?”

“I do, actually.” You point to a poster behind him, which displays that exact fact, “I thought dotting facts around the library would be interesting for the kids. They seem to like them.”

“Learning in young children is socially mediated, so good quality learning environments outside of their schools is crucial for children’s development. So, in a way, you’re enriching their lives beyond understanding.”

You’re flattered at his somewhat far-fetched attempt at complimenting you. It makes your heart flutter.

Why didn’t you contact me, you dimwit?

You open your mouth to ask another question, ask if there’s something he needs help finding, when he beats you to it.

With a firm grip, he slams the book he’s reading shut and says, “I’m lying.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t come here to.. look around. I came here to see you.”

“Oh.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to make of that. You haven’t awkwardly looked away, or stepped back to increase the distance between you. That means something good, right?

“You didn’t text me, so I assumed you weren’t interested.” Your brows twitch, and you back-pedal, “Unless you purposely didn’t text me because you actually weren’t interested and you might be here to see me but for something book-related rather than me-related and I’ve totally humiliated myself.”

“No, no. You’re right. You’re right.” He fiddles with the book in shame, “I should’ve texted you. I just didn’t know what to say and.. Well, it’s stupid.”

Your head jerks a little to the side, something he’s noticed you do a lot, looking patient and too pretty for him to handle. “I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

Spencer thinks back to his conversation with Derek, specifically the reminder that you gave him your number which means you initiated this so yes, you are interested in him.

It’s just.. when he looks at you, he struggles to believe it a little. You’re breath-taking.

“I’m worried I’ll bore you.” He starts light, easing you into what’s been troubling him. He’s emboldened by the fact you’re clearly frustrated he didn’t text you.

You give him a look of horror, “The first time we met I told you I loved your dissertation on geographic regression. I definitely do not think you’re anything anywhere near boring.”

“Okay,” He nods, “What about our ages?”

You’re confused. “What about it?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “It doesn’t.. bother you?”

“Does it.. bother you?”

Usually, answering a question with a question is a sign of deflection, a sign of hiding something. However he doesn’t know why, but Spencer trusts you with his life. Maybe not his life. Maybe his heart.

“Does that silence mean yes?”

He shakes his head, “No. It doesn’t bother me. I just worry that, you know, college years are the so-called best years of your life and I don’t want you to regret being with me, someone older than you, and resent me for it, or something-“

“I think you’re getting way in your head, Spence.” You laugh a little, “We haven’t gone on a single date and you’ve convinced yourself of so much already. For the record, no, your age doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It never has and I doubt it ever will. I think you’re the most fascinating and interesting person on this planet, and if anyone is getting bored with anyone I’m pretty confident it’ll be you getting sick of me. And,” You take a breath, “I think I’m old enough to know what I want, who I want, and what I want is you. If you want me, too.”

Spencer shoves the book back into the bookshelf with a satisfying sound, then turns and quickly places a kiss onto your cheek. It’s completely unexpected and, quite frankly, not something you’d expect from Doctor Reid, but you blush and there’s a definite red colour to Spencer’s cheeks, too.

“I will never, ever, get sick of you.” He says, voice small but firm. “But I don’t want you to regret being with me. Promise me you won’t.”

You give him a look that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. “I promise that I won’t regret being with you. I’d like us to last as long as possible, if I can be picky.”

“I’d like that, too.” He murmurs. The thought of you wanting him for as long as possible almost sends him into a frenzy. He wants to kiss you all over.

You stand close and talk quietly for a while, a little more discussion on a possible date that weekend and a constant stream of compliments from you to Spencer and vice versa, before you realise the time.

“I should probably go. I have a paper to finish.” You smile sadly, a tiny pout forming.

“I understand. Do you think I could read it? When you’re done?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Do you know how terrifying the idea of the Spencer Reid reading my work is? But yes, anything for you.”

Anything for you. Are you trying to kill him?

You turn to leave, refusing to admit how sad leaving Spencer makes you feel, when you stop, “One more thing.”

Spencer hums. He’s not fully paying attention, praying to whatever Gods exist that killers take a break on the weekend so he can take you out on the sweetest date.

“If age is a sore area for you,” There’s mirth in your eyes and Spencer prepares himself, “Does that mean the nickname old man is off the table?”

His lips purse and move towards his nose as he narrows his eyes, giving you a look of faux annoyance, “I am not an old man.”

“Sounds like you’re sensitive, old man.”

As you walk away, you jokingly blow him a kiss to add insult to injury. His pretend glare lasts until your back is turned and he feels his gaze softening to something akin to love.

Spencer thins if the rest of his life is this, you teasing him with that twinkle in your eye and smile on your face, then life is truly the most beautiful thing.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #mine

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wonderful-writes · 3 years

Note

Oooh! For the Charlie Weasley prompt list, 5, 8, and 14, where the reader and charlie have lowkey had feelings for each other for a long time, but then he went to Romania, but finally the reader is about to go into their last year, and they're spending summer at the burrow when Charlie comes back and they talk about being together after the reader graduates

Next Year

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: You had always been close to the Weasley family, and the second-oldest, dragon-loving brother was no exception. He was a few years ahead of you, tall, funny, and ruggedly handsome — all that you could ever want in a boy. It was a shame he didn’t feel the same way. But could one summer together at the Burrow change all that?

Prompts:

5) There’s always next year.

8) I never forgot you.

14) Is that my jumper?

“Y/N! Y/N! Over here!”

You turned to see Ginny Weasley calling to you from the entrance of the Burrow. At her side was a broom and a dustpan. Mrs. Weasley had probably asked her to sweep the front porch.

“Ginny!” you exclaimed, running over to her. You had apparated to the Burrow with nothing but a small suitcase, so it didn’t take long for you to reach her.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” the young red-headed girl gushed as she pulled you into a hug.

“Where is everybody?” you asked when she finally let go of you.

“Percy, Ron, and Harry are upstairs cleaning the bedrooms with Mum,” Ginny answered. “Hermione was helping me out here, but she went inside to grab paper towels for the windows.”

“And Fred and George?”

“They went out with Charlie. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Charlie’s here?” you asked in surprise. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming. In your letter.”

“Huh, I probably made a mistake,” she said. “I meant to write that Bill wasn’t coming home this summer, not Charlie.”

“Oh,” you said. Part of you was excited to see Charlie again, but another part of you dreaded it. You hadn’t seen him since the end of your fifth year at Hogwarts, an entire year ago. You had finished your fifth year when he finished his seventh, and he headed straight for Romania after that. He had left immediately after graduation, not even staying to spend one more summer with you.

It was not like he had any reason to spend another summer with you. You were only a family friend, after all. The Weasleys had loads of family friends, and you were no different. Charlie probably thought of you like he did Harry or Hermione. But you couldn’t help but wish that he thought of you as something more than that.

You were heartbroken when he left, but you didn’t let it show. You spent that summer with your family, who missed you dearly when you were away at school. You had a happy time, taking trips and enjoying the company of those you love, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Charlie was gone.

When fall came, you returned to Hogwarts to begin your sixth year. You had school to occupy you — and you were very busy with that, being your studious and ambitious self — but you never let go of the memory of Charlie Weasley. You often looked back at why you fell for him in the first place.

You had met in your first year and his third. As members of the same house, you saw each other frequently and became fast friends. Over the years, you became acquainted with the rest of the Weasley siblings and grew to consider them your second family. You spent parts of your school breaks at the Burrow, and your muggle parents became close friends with the Weasleys as well. It was hard not to fall for Charlie when you were constantly around him and his wonderful family.

Though he was two years older than you, he treated you like an equal, not like some bothersome younger sister. He was kind and respectful and had a love for animals. In your mind, he was perfect. But you never had the courage to tell him so. You were always too embarrassed about your crush and too scared that your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. He never showed any signs that he fancied you, so why would you humiliate yourself by admitting that you fancied him?

“I’ll take that for you, dear,” someone said, breaking you from your thoughts. You looked up to see that Arthur Weasley had come out of the house and was reaching for your suitcase.

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley!” you said, handing over the suitcase. “I assume I’ll be staying in Bill’s room since he’s not here?”

“Sure are,” he replied. “He’s been so busy at Gringotts. They just shipped him out to Egypt not even a week ago.” Mr. Weasley smiled broadly, clearly proud of his son.

“Wow, Egypt?” you marvel. “Bill must be some curse-breaker.”

“He sure is,” said Molly Weasley, joining the throng conversing on the front steps. “Hello, Y/N. How are you, dear?”

You stepped into Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched arms and told her that you had never been better. School was swell, your friends were keeping you sane, and there was nothing getting you down. She seemed happy at your reply and led the way back into the house.

Inside, you greeted Ron, Hermione, Harry and Percy. Unlike Ginny, whom you haven’t seen since Christmas holiday, you saw the four the them at school everyday. Percy was a year younger than you, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione were itty bitty soon-to-be second years. You were happy that Ginny would be starting at Hogwarts in the fall. Your last year would be her first, but at least you could go to school with her for one year.

For the rest of the day, you helped the family tidy up the house and prepare supper. When evening rolled around, Charlie, Fred, and George returned from wherever it was they went to. Fred and George said hello to you first, before heading upstairs to work on a new prank idea. Charlie was the last to approach you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking up at him. He hadn’t changed a bit. Same messy red hair, same freckles dotting his face. He was as handsome as ever. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat creep up your neck. The last thing you wanted was to out yourself on having a crush on Charles Weasley, especially in front of Charlie himself and his family.

“Hey, Y/N!” called Ron. “Wanna play a game of chess before dinner?”

“Sure,” you answer gratefully. You wanted any excuse to distance yourself from Charlie. Being around him only intensified your feelings for him.

After a heated round of chess, which Ron, the strategic genius, obviously won, Mrs. Weasley announced that dinner was ready. Everyone took their seats at the table, you squeezing yourself in between George and Ginny. To your dismay, Charlie chose the chair directly across from you.

He flashed you a smile. You smiled back weakly before quickly looking down at your plate. Act normal, you told yourself. When you still went to school with Charlie, you had gotten the same nervous, fluttery feeling whenever you were around him. After he left to pursue his dream job in Romania, he wasn’t nearby to make your stomach do somersaults anymore. It had been a full year since you felt this dizzying feeling, and now it was all rushing back to you.

“You okay, Y/N?” asked Hermione, who was sitting next to Charlie.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

You looked around and quickly realized that everyone had already piled food on top of their plates, but yours was still empty. How long had you been sitting there?

“Right,” you said as you picked up a serving spoon, about to dish mashed potatoes onto your plate. “I was thinking about someone, and I guess I zoned out for a bit.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow at you. “Who were you thinking about?”

You froze. You replayed your words and realized that you had accidentally said you were thinking about someone instead of something.

“Did I say someone?” you asked with a laugh, attempting to pass off your error as a simple mistake. “I meant something.”

“Sure you did,” Ginny teased, winking at you.

You rolled your eyes at her. You acted as if it was all a joke, but you were dying of embarrassment on the inside. You hoped you weren’t being too obvious.

“Pass me the green beans, Y/LN,” Charlie said.

You felt your face burning as you handed over the green beans. Even though you didn’t touch him, extending your hand that close to his sent electricity through you.

“Thank you,” Charlie said cheekily.

You spared him a glance, flashing him a smile. You were trying to act as casual as possible, but it was difficult when your stomach churned every time you looked at him. There was no denying to yourself that you were crushing hard.

After dinner was done, you helped Mrs. Weasley wash up. When everything was cleaned and put away, you headed over to the living room, where Fred, George, and Charlie were playing cards around the coffee table. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were talking upstairs, Percy was in his room reading, and the Weasley parents had decided to retire for the night.

“Can I play?” you asked, taking a seat next to Fred.

“Sure,” he answered, not looking up from his deck. “Next game.”

“So, where did you guys go earlier today?” you questioned.

“We just went to town,” George replied nonchalantly. “Fred and I needed to get some stuff for our next prank, and Charlie offered to take us.”

You hummed in response. It made you feel warm inside to know that Charlie was so attentive with his siblings. Family was very important to you, and you were glad it was important to him as well. Just another reason for you to fall even harder for him. Godric, why did he have to be so perfect?

The boys continued to play. The game finally ended when both Fred and Charlie ran out of cards, leaving George the winner. You began picking up the cards and shuffling them, preparing to deal them to everyone.

Before you could complete your task, however, George interrupted. “Actually, Fred and I are going upstairs to work on our new idea.”

Giving them a wave goodbye, you watched as the two younger boys got up from the coffee table and headed upstairs.

“You and me?” Charlie asked, a mischievous smile on his face

“Sure,” you replied.

You handed him his cards, and the two of you began to play. You were both concentrated on the game, and the only noise that could be heard was the sound of cards slapping on the table.

“So, how have you been?” Charlie asked, trying to make conversation.

“I’ve been good,” you responded. “You?”

“Never been better. Working at the dragon sanctuary has been a dream come true.”

You were genuinely happy to hear that he loved his job and his new life. Although, you wished you could be a bigger part of it. Charlie wasn’t much of a writer, and he hardly sent letters to his family, let alone his friends. You had written to him once when he was away, and he had responded. That was the extent of your communication over the last year. You didn’t bother to send another letter, fearing coming off as clingy or obsessed. When he failed to write to you again, you knew you had made the right decision.

“Wanna tell me more about Romania?” you asked, setting your cards down.

“Sure!” he answered enthusiastically. “But can we sit on the couch? My bum is sore from sitting on the floor.”

The two of you moved to the sofa and sat about a foot away from each other. He told you all about his experiences working with dragons. He went into detail about the training process, the proper way to handle a baby dragon, and the different breeds he got to study. You smiled as he talked, enjoying the way his eyes lit up whenever he discussed something he was passionate about.

“So, what about you?” he asked finally. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, I just finished my sixth year, which you already knew,” you said. “I aced most of my exams, I was invited into the Slug Club, and I’m currently working towards becoming Head Girl.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Charlie said. “You must be proud of yourself.”

“I am proud. Exhausted, but proud. Sometimes I wonder how I got this far. I look back at all the hard work I put in and still can’t figure out how I managed to do all that.”

“You’re pretty incredible,” said Charlie. “If anyone could accomplish that much, it would be you.” He paused. “Well, maybe also Percy. He’s a know-it-all.”

You blushed at his compliment. “Thanks, Charlie.” When you first told him about your achievements, you were worried he would think you were bragging. But his kind words put your fears at ease, reassuring you that it was okay to be happy for yourself and to want to share your goals and successes with others.

“You know, we should keep in touch more when I go back to Romania,” he said.

“Agreed. We hardly exchanged two letters in the past year.”

Charlie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I sort of didn’t write to anyone at all. I mean, unless they wrote to me first.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him. “You were probably too busy taming dragons or something,” you teased.

“I never forgot you,” he said, as if he had to make sure you knew his lack of communication wasn’t personal.

You felt your breath hitch. You knew he was probably only saying because he felt guilty for not sending letters to someone who obviously wanted to, but you secretly wished he had meant something more by those words. Did he miss you when he was away? Or did he just feel bad for cutting off a family friend who was desperate for company? Could he sense how you felt about him?

“I know,” you said. “You don’t have to feel bad for not writing. I know it’s nothing against me.” You really hoped he didn’t pity you or think you were pathetic. Your Gryffindor confidence truly gave out on you when you were around him.

“I-it’s not that,” he stammered. “It’s just, well, um.”

“It’s just what?” you questioned. Since when did Charlie Weasley get so tongue-tied?

“I, uh, I want you to know that I never forgot about you,” he finally spitted out, red in the face. “You’re, you’re different to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was Charlie Weasley, the boy you’ve been swooning over for years, confessing his feelings for you?

“Different how?” you asked, wanting him to get to the point. You needed to know how he felt about you, but you were slightly afraid of the outcome. What if it was all a misunderstanding? What if you had been reading the situation wrong, and he didn’t actually have feelings for you?

“Well, you’re like a friend,” Charlie began slowly. He seemed to have regained his natural confidence and composure. “But more than that.”

You stared at him, unable to speak.

“You’re like family,” he went on, “but I don’t see you as my sister or anything like that. I see you more as someone I could fancy, or rather, someone I do fancy.”

You were dumbstruck. The boy you were head-over-heels for actually liked you back. He had said it himself. He fancied you. No one else, you.

“Could you please say something?” Charlie asked.

You looked down to see him fidgeting with his hands. Was he really that anxious? The calmest person you knew was nervous around you?

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you said, looking him in the eyes. Those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, turning red again. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” you hurriedly told him. “I like you, too.”

“You do?” he asked, breaking into a grin that could make you melt into the ground.

“Yes, I do. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I never had the courage to say anything. I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Same here,” Charlie admitted. “I’ve liked you for a while, but it felt wrong of me to say so. You are my friend, after all. Plus, you’re two years younger than me.”

You nodded in agreement. You often questioned if it would be wrong to date someone who wasn’t your age. Would people think weirdly of you and Charlie if the two of you were in a relationship? Would either of you get in trouble?

You couldn’t help yourself from asking, “How long have you liked me for?” You were still flabbergasted and didn’t think you’d ever get over the news.

“Well, I’m not sure. Maybe since my sixth year? Although, it could’ve been before that. We were always such close friends that I didn’t notice when platonic feelings started to turn into something more.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get it. Although, I can’t say it was the same for me. My feelings for you weren’t gradual like that. I knew I liked you all at once. From the moment we first met, actually.”

“Oh, did you?” he teased. “Did you find me that charming?”

“Oh, shut it, you git,” you said while rolling your eyes at him. It felt nice to banter with him without the awkward tension from before. Knowing that he shared your feelings made it easier for you to talk to him.

“So, what now?” Charlie asked you. “Are we dating or...?”

“Well, you have to ask me out first, don’t you?” you said playfully, trying to hide your smile.

He let out a loud sigh. “If I must.”

“Go on,” you said with a smirk. You had missed his goofy side when you were apart from him.

“Y/N Y/LN, will you go out with me?” he asked dramatically.

You rolled your eyes again. “Yes, you doof. I will go out with you.”

He beamed. “Brilliant!”

You smiled back at him, reaching for his hands. You gripped his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. Those soft, brown eyes that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

“But what will your family think?” you questioned, finally breaking his gaze.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Will your family be okay with this?”

“I’ve, uh, already told my parents about you,” you said sheepishly. “They’ve known I liked you for a long time, so they won’t have a problem with us dating. It’s your family I’m worried about.”

Charlie nodded. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them? Not now, at least?”

“That would probably be best,” you agreed. “I don’t particularly want to deal with their judgement right now.”

Just then, the thudding of footsteps coming down the stairs could be heard.

“Charlie, Y/N, it’s bedtime!” Ron called from the landing. “Mum told me to tell you!”

“We’re coming, Ron!” Charlie shouted back. He turned to you. “So, I guess we’re keeping this a secret?”

“Guess so.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep as you laid in bed. You didn’t have to share Bill’s room with anybody, so you were utterly alone with your thoughts. Part of you was too excited to sleep. You couldn’t believe you were dating Charlie Weasley, the boy of your dreams. But part of you was also terrified of what the Weasleys would say once they found out. You already knew they liked you; you had been a friend of their children for a long time. And Charlie was their own son. But would a relationship be too much?

Aside from your worries about Charlie’s family, thoughts about how to make a relationship with him work also occupied your mind. He would be returning to the dragon reserve in Romania at the end of the summer, and you would be starting your last year at Hogwarts. Would you break up? Would you do long-distance? How would you make it work?

The next morning, everything proceeded as usual. You had breakfast with the Weasleys, along with Ron and Hermione, of course, and helped with the dishes afterward. You spent the rest of the day spending time with everyone, particularly Charlie. The two of you snuck off whenever you could, but it was difficult finding time to be alone with so many people at the Burrow.

The rest of the summer went accordingly. You spent your days playing games with the younger children, helping Mr. and Mrs. Weasley around the house, and enjoying quiet moments with Charlie. During your time alone, the two of you talked, made plans, and fell deeper in love with each other. You were infatuated with him, and he felt the same about you. Both of you dreaded the end of the summer, when you would eventually have to part ways.

You would miss the hot nights laying in the field, counting fireflies together. You would miss the sweet way you held each other’s hands underneath the dinner table. You would miss the rise and fall of his chest when he had fallen asleep on the banks of the nearby pond after a long afternoon of splashing around. You would miss the blush that crept up his cheeks when you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You would miss him, everything about him.

The last day of summer crept closer and closer. Before you knew it, it was your final night at the Burrow. You were set to leave with Percy, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny early the next morning. A part of you was excited to finally start your last year at Hogwarts, knowing that this would bring you another step closer to your adult life. Some days, there was nothing you wanted more than to be done with school and to start working in the wizarding world. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be a healer or an auror or some other profession, but you knew you wanted to make a difference and do good things for others. But another part of you was saddened. You didn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of the Burrow. You didn’t want the carefree summer days to be nothing but a distant memory. And you didn’t want your blossoming relationship with Charlie to come to a close either.

It was past midnight, and you were the only one awake. Having had trouble falling asleep, you had gone down to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. After downing your drink, you had decided to perch on the sofa to contemplate your current situation. Physically, you were exhausted from a long day of frolicking in the fields and slinging rocks into the pond, the perfect end to the perfect summer. Mentally, you were restless as thoughts ran wild through your head. What would happen when you returned to school and Charlie went back to Romania? Your body was telling you to sleep, but your mind was keeping you up. You would be able to sleep on the train the next day, anyway.

“Y/N?” a voice sounded through the silence. “Why are you up?”

You broke free of your thoughts and glanced up to see Charlie staring back at you from the foot of the stairs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged. “Went down for some water and decided to sit here.”

Charlie grinned before plopping down next to you. “Well, then, I’m glad I happened to wake up just now. We can have one more moment together before we both leave tomorrow.”

You smiled back at him. “I think one more moment with you is just what I need right now.”

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked as he draped his arm around you.

You snuggled closer to his side. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about us. What’s going to happen after tomorrow?”

You peered into Charlie’s eyes and found that he looked utterly content, relaxed even. Was he not fazed by the idea of having to leave you?

“Well, you’re going back to school,” he began, “and I’m going back to the sanctuary.”

“But what about us?”

“We’ll do long-distance, I guess,” he answered with a shrug. “I don’t want to break up or anything.”

You smiled at that and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. You were glad he wasn’t too worried. It eased your nerves to see how well he was handling this. “I don’t want to break up either. But you better write me, you git.”

Charlie smirked. “Alright, I’ll write you.”

You punched him playfully. “You better.”

The two of you stayed on the couch for a while, just enjoying being close to each other. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic pounding soothed you, let you know that everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, is that my jumper?” Charlie finally spoke, gesturing to knitted red garment you wore.

You grinned sheepishly, looking down at the jumper that hung oversized on you. “I wanted to have a piece of you before we go our separate ways. I didn’t think you’d miss it too much. You have a bunch of them.”

“You can keep it, love,” he said with a grin. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” you replied happily. You knew he wouldn’t have minded you taking his jumper, but it was nice to hear him say it himself. Something about the way he said it looked better on you made you cling onto him even tighter.

You and Charlie fell asleep on the couch that night, entangled in each other’s arms. In the morning, you were awakened by the sound of stomping footsteps and rowdy laughter as the other children got ready to leave. Soon enough, Molly Weasley was ushering you and Charlie to get ready as well. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see the two of you sleeping on the sofa together. Like everyone else in the house, she knew of your relationship without having to be told.

Charlie decided to accompany you and rest of the returning Hogwarts troupe to the train station. He didn’t want to miss seeing you off, wanting to say goodbye one last time. By the time you reached Platform 9 3/4, it was finally hitting you that you would be leaving him again. But this time, it hurt a little less because you knew you wouldn’t be leaving behind an unrequited love. You would be leaving your boyfriend, someone who did feel the same way and would never stop caring about you no matter the distance.

Your goodbye was bittersweet. You were thrilled to be parting ways as two people who were dating at long last, but you were dismayed to leave him at all.

“Did you pack my jumper?” Charlie asked as he pulled you into one last hug.

“Sure did,” you grinned at him. “I’m going to miss you, Charlie.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, planting a kiss into your hair. “But there’s always next year.”

You finally pulled away and boarded the Hogwarts Express with the others. Sitting in between Ginny and Hermione, you waved out the window frantically as the train pulled out of the station. You continued to wave as the train continued to chug forward until the figures of Charlie, Molly, and Arthur Weasley became nothing but specks on the platform.

Tired from staying up late the night before, you allowed yourself to shut your eyes during the ride to school. As you were drifting off to sleep, the last words Charlie had said to you turned over and over again in your mind. But there’s always next year. He was right. Although you’d be apart for your last year at Hogwarts and his second year in Romania, you had your whole future ahead of you. You had the rest of your lives to be together, so it didn’t matter that you weren’t together now. You sank deeper and deeper into a peaceful slumber, letting the noise of the train inching along the tracks and the thoughts of your future with Charlie lull you to sleep.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #charlie weasley fanfiction #weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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just-come-baek · 4 years

Text

get in, loser 1

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.

A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.

***

Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.

Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.

Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.

It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.

Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.

Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.

It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.

Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.

When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.

“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.

I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.

***

It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.

“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.

It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.

It must’ve been Taeyong himself.

“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.

Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.

Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.

The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.

“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.

“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”

“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”

Taeyong grew silent.

I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.

“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.

What the fuck?

“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.

Imagine my shock.

Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.

“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.

I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.

“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.

“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.

“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.

“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.

“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.

“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”

***

“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.

“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”

Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”

“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.

“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.

“Of course.”

“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.

My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.

“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.

The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.

Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.

With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.

Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.

“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”

It was interesting.

Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.

“I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.

It must’ve been a set-up.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.

“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.

***

I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.

On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.

Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.

“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.

“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.

“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.

“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.

“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.

“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.

It must’ve been a sick joke.

“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.

“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.

“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.

“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.

“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.

“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”

“Do you have a plan, though?”

“We’ll come up with one on our way.”

***

Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.

The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.

“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?

“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…

“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”

“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”

“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”

“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”

“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”

Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…

We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.

“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.

I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.

***

By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.

Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.

On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.

In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.

I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.

Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.

Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.

Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.

So I waited.

Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.

I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?

Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.

Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.

“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.

“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.

“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.

With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.

I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”

“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.

“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”

“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.

“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.

“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”

Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!

“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.

“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

He was a mad man.

“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”

Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.

It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.

The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.

In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.

I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.

Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.

“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.

After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.

Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.

“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”

“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.

“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.

Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.

#taeyong smut #nct smut #neosmutcollective #taeyong angst #nct angst #taeyong #nct #nct 127 #nct u #mafia taeyong #crime lord taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong fanfiction #taeyong fanfic #taeyong story #mafia!taeyong #action #comedy

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 3 years

Note

Req: Shōto is the campus' delinquent. Nobody dare to cross him. Izuku is the campus' nerd. His low social status makes him an easy target of bullying. One day, they're paired together for a project. What starts out as a school assignment blossoms a beautiful friendship as they realized that they're the same. They're both no strangers to pain. Izuku sees Shōto as his own person despite his surname. Shōto sees hurt, pain & sadness behind Izuku's smiles. And eventually, they both fall in love.

Ooooo thank you for the request! :D

'Shoji and Tokoyami for group one. Uraraka and Asui for group two.'

'Yesss!' Uraraka muttered under her breath. Izuku smirked at his friend and nudged her with his elbow.

'Get in there!' He winked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, earning a frantic shhhhh from his friend.

'Momo and Kirishima for group four.' Aizawa called out. 'Jirou and Hagakure for group five.

'Ooo, halfway though, Dekuuu!' Uraraka sang quietly. 'Are you worried?'

'As long as it's not Kacchan, I don't mind.' He shrugged.

'Bakugou and Mineta for group seven.' Aizawa continued, tone bored, even as the blonde roared with protest.

'Thank fuck.' Izuku mumbled.

'Midoriya and Todoroki for group eight.' His teacher spoke, looking pointedly at him before focusing back on the sheet.

While Uraraka giggled next to him, Izuku froze, his posture straight and a look of shock on his face. He felt a pair of dichromatic eyes burning holes into his back, although he could just be paranoid.

Him and… Todoroki? UA's top heartthrob and bad boy, partnered with Izuku? Aizawa-Sensei had to be kidding, surely.

'Right, that's all of you.' Their teacher called out. 'Sit in your pairs and we'll go over the project in more detail.'

Immediately, the classroom broke out into excited chatter as everyone shouted across the room for their partner. Before Izuku could even say farewell to Uraraka, his friend had already jumped up from her seat to bounce towards where Tsu was sitting.

Izuku sighed and - with significantly less energy - got up to search the room for his partner. Of course, it didn't take long to spot him; even without the scar, Todoroki stood out like a sore thumb.

He sat towards the back of the room, slouched in his chair as he stared out of the window, unfazed by the chaos around him. The morning sun bathed his skin and made the crimson half of his hair shine. Izuku noticed that his classmate was wearing his signature leather jacket, covered in various badges and pins, along with a turtleneck, a pair of navy jeans that clung to his legs, and black combat boots.

It was no secret that Todoroki was the "most handsome guy in school", so it made sense that today was no different. It just didn't help Izuku in the slightest - in fact, it made it even harder for him to clear his throat and gather his attention.

'To- Todoroki-kun, hi!' He squeaked, a large smile plastered to his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. When the aforementioned turned to regard him nonchalantly, Izuku's nerves only exacerbated. 'Do you mind if I sit, seen as we're part- partners?'

When his classmate remained silent, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and laughed. 'Sorry about that by the way… I know you probably don't want to be stuck with someone like me.'

'Why are you apologising?' Todoroki raised an eyebrow. 'It's not your fault.'

You didn't deny it though… Izuku chewed on his lip for lack of a better response, until Todoroki eventually nodded to the seat next to him.

'Your reputation precedes you, Midoriya.' He commented as Izuku fumbled into his chair. 'As does mine. I don't mind working with you as long as you pull your weight. You may think I don't give a shit about grades, but you don't know me.'

Izuku turned to regard him with wide eyes, but Todoroki had already gone back to stare out of the window. 'Library after school. We'll make a start then. Can't be arsed going home and I assume you're not too keen on walking home at the same time as Bakugou.'

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows at that. He knew Todoroki could be blunt but… Oh well, he did have a point. Kacchan would jump him the moment they were out of the school gates - clearly wanting to release all that pent-up rage on Izuku because, for some reason, his old friend had made it his own personal goal to make him his punching bag.

'Sure.' Izuku replied, turning to face the front of the room as Aizawa told them all to quiet down. Why me?

☀️🌙

Izuku twirled his pen in his hand as he read through his notes in the library. If the librarian asked, it was school work, even if the "Hero analysis #27" scribbled over the cover was a dead give-away.

Izuku wanted to be a doctor, a hero who saves lives. Ever since he had learnt to read, he was fascinated by how the body worked and how to treat various ailments. His analysis books were where he stored all the information he had absorbed from his readings.

'Last time I checked, "loss of executive functioning in patients with primary progressive multiple sclerosis" wasn't on the syllabus.' A low voice spoke.

Izuku flinched so violently his elbow slammed into the back of his chair and he almost dropped his pen. He winced at the pain and looked up to find Todoroki gazing at him, unfazed by his display.

'T- Todoroki-kun!' A bright smile appeared on Izuku's face and he gestured to the seat opposite him. When his classmate took it, he quickly put away his notebook and replaced it with his psychology workbook and textbook. 'I was starting to think you'd forgotten.'

'I just had a few things to sort out.' Todoroki shrugged, taking out his own book.

Izuku nodded along, expecting him to elaborate, but apparently that wasn't his classmate's intention. Instead, they sat in awkward silence for several moments, until Izuku shook his head to ground himself and opened his textbook.

'Right, let's get started then.' He announced, a trained smile on his face. 'Aizawa-Sensei said we have to do a presentation on the sleep-wake cycle for ours, which is actually quite interesting. I had a quick look over lunch and I was thinking we could start the intro by covering the three different cycles. So, ultradian rhythms are cycles that are less than 24 hours and can repeat throughout the day, infradian rhythms are more than 24 hours - like the menstrual cycle - then we finish on circadian rhythms, which focuses specifically on sleep-wake cycle, then go on to talk about-'

Izuku paused then, realising he had definitely started to ramble there. He knew how much his peers found his habit annoying, so he was surprised that Todoroki hadn't interrupted him and told him to shut up before now.

'Why did you stop?' His classmate asked, genuinely confused.

'You… You understood all of that?' Izuku returned.

'Yes.' Todoroki showed him his workbook, where he had started writing Izuku's ideas down.

'But I was muttering…' Heat rose to his face as he inspected the page. 'You don't find that annoying?'

Todoroki frowned at that.

'Not really. Why would I?'

'Everyone else does.' Izuku mumbled, looking away.

'I'm not everyone else.' Todoroki scratched his cheek, just below his scar. Before Izuku could ask though, he cleared his throat. 'Anyway, I agree with you. Once we focus on circadian rhythms, we can go over the stages of sleep.'

'Sounds good to me!' Izuku beamed. 'We can talk about non-REM and REM too!'

'Yes.' Todoroki nodded. 'Then maybe go into the different areas involved in sleep, so photoreceptors and the pineal gland.'

'That's a great idea!' Izuku burst out, brain going a mile a minute. This was going easier than he had expected. 'Gosh, this is going to be so fun! Right, I know it's not entirely relevant to the presentation itself, but you know dolphins?'

'Yes, I know dolphins.' Todoroki huffed, tone slightly amused.

Was that almost a smile?!

'Well, their brains have a left and right hemisphere like we do, and when they go to sleep, they turn off one hemisphere and the other one stays awake so they can come up for air and stuff! Then they switch around when the first hemisphere is fully rested! Some sharks do it too, it's so interesting!'

Izuku paused for breath. When Todoroki said nothing in response and looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite place, Izuku blushed with embarrassment. 'S- Sorry…'

'No, you…' Todoroki spoke, his voice oddly gentle. 'That's the first time today I've seen you genuinely smile.'

… What?

'I'm always smiling.' Izuku tilted his head to the side. Smiling was his thing. Everywhere he went, he always made sure to smile, even if he was having a bad day. He smiled to put others at ease.

'It never reaches your eyes though.' Todoroki regarded him with something akin to understanding, albeit Izuku didn't know why. 'It's always fake.'

He winced at the wording.

'Does that bother you?' He twirled his pen and looked away, apprehension in his voice.

'A little.' Todoroki admitted. 'I understand why you lie, but I'd rather you be honest - at least, with me, I'd like you to be honest.'

Izuku considered his words. Despite the lack of malice in his tone, he still felt like he had been called out.

'I'm sorry.' He spoke, not knowing what else to say.

'You apologise a lot.' Todoroki stated. 'You don't owe anyone an apology, Midoriya.'

Izuku didn't like this. He didn't know where this was coming from and why Todoroki was saying all this. It wasn't a bad thing, but it was overwhelming. No one had ever called him out for his smiles before.

'I have to go.' He stood abruptly and gathered his books, stuffing them into his yellow backpack. Todoroki looked at him, mildly bewildered.

'Okay. When do you want to meet up next?' He asked before Izuku could book it out of there.

'Up to you.' He shrugged. ‘I can’t do tomorrow though.’

'How about Thursday after school?' Todoroki asked. 'We can go to my place - my old man is at the station all day then so he won't bother us.'

Izuku gulped at the idea of meeting Todoroki Enji, the city's chief of police who was rumoured to be as corrupt as they came.

'He definitely won't be there?' He twirled a loose green curl around his finger.

'I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't know for sure.' Todoroki raised an eyebrow. Izuku didn't know what to make of that.

'Okay, sure. I'll meet you at the front gates after class and we'll walk together.' When Todoroki nodded once, Izuku tried not to force a smile and mirrored the action. 'Great. Right, I've got to go. Bye!'

Before his classmate could say anything else, Izuku quick-walked out of the library. Once he exited the building, he broke into a run down the street. He liked running when he was anxious, it helped calm him.

Izuku sighed and thought of blue and grey eyes, staring into his soul. He then promptly tripped over his own two feet and landed on the floor with a thud.

Resigned to his fate, Izuku made no effort to get up and sighed heavily, cheeks squished against the pavement.

It was going to be a long few weeks.

☀️🌙

[Uwawaka: 17:05] Dekuuuuu!!! Todoroki-kun just cornered me and demanded your number?!?! Erm, have a nice life I guess? I get your shoes when you die

[Me: 17:09] Waitwaitwait WHAT?!?!?! YOU SAID YES?!

[Me: 17:10] URARAKA ANSWER ME

[Me: 17:12] I will eat your pet hamster, you whore

Izuku collapsed onto his bed and smacked his forehead with his palm. Several more minutes passed without a response and he was seriously considering calling her, when his phone suddenly vibrated.

He quickly scrambled for the device. However, when he unlocked it and saw the message, he gasped and threw his phone at the wall.

'Izuku!' His mum shouted from the kitchen. 'What was that?!'

'Nothing, mum! Sorry!' He shouted, moving to pick it back up.

[Unknown: 17.16] Is this Midoriya Izuku?

[Me: 17:18] Yes? Who is this?

Izuku knew full well who it was and added the number to his contacts anyway.

[Todoroki: 17:20] It's Todoroki from Aizawa's psychology class. I got your number from a friend. Hope you don't mind

Either Todoroki was downplaying the situation or Uraraka was being overdramatic. He honestly didn't know who to believe.

[Me: 17:21] No problem, what's up?

[Todoroki: 17:23] I was going to wait till tomorrow but evidently I have the patience of a toddler.

[Todoroki: 17:24] I wanted to apologise if I made you uncomfortable earlier. I shouldn't have indirectly accused you of lying when I do it all the time.

Izuku didn't even know where to start with unpacking that.

[Me: 17:27] You don't have to apologise, you were right. I just smile a lot to make others feel at ease. I didn't realise it could be mistaken for dishonesty if I'm not being genuine.

[Me: 17:27] You lie all the time?

It was bold to ask that, but he couldn't help himself. Izuku was a meddler, through and through. Plus, Todoroki mentioned it first so it wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk about it, he reasoned.

[Todoroki: 17:30] I can understand that. I'd just rather you be honest with me. After all, if you're not happy, it could affect our project

[Todoroki: 17:32] Well, I tell everyone that it's a birthmark on my face when it's clearly a scar. I told a dude I wasn't gay because I didn't want to go out with him. I have depression but deny it when I get asked about it. Then there's a bunch of other stuff that I haven't told anyone that I won't even get into, but yeah

'Wow okay...' Izuku puffed his cheeks out. ‘I guess the reason Todoroki-kun doesn’t talk much is because he’s a over-sharer, but it’s okay. You got this, Izuku.’

[Me: 17:33] Lying and not disclosing something aren't the same thing! But with the stuff you have lied about, I can understand why you don't want people to know, especially considering the way others treat me just because I'm different. And your scar isn't anyone's business except your own!

He pressed send, then hesitated over the keyboard.

[Me: 17:34] Also! If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here! We're friends now, aren't we? :)

Izuku stared at the screen, waiting for a response.

Several minutes passed without one and he was starting to question himself. However, just before Izuku could completely stress out over how badly he had fucked up, the screen brightened.

[Todoroki: 17:45] Thank you, Midoriya.

Izuku smiled at his phone.

That had gone better than he had expected.

☀️🌙

'Todoroki-kun!'

Shoto nodded to Midoriya, who was waiting by the gate. He was smiling again, but Shoto could tell he was nervous from the way his eyes were on high-alert, darting around the courtyard as if he were about to be attacked. Shoto didn't blame him though - in fact, he'd be more worried if his classmate wasn't on edge.

'Midoriya.' He greeted, once he reached his side. Due to the proximity though, he suddenly noticed the gravel rash that littered his new friend's jaw. 'What happened to you?'

'Er…' Midoriya blushed bright pink. Distantly, Shoto registered that it was actually quite cute, albeit he wouldn't admit it. 'I- I went for a run on Tuesday and tripped.'

'You should be more careful.' Shoto commented, eliciting a laugh from his classmate. 'I'm serious.'

'Yeah, I know but…' Midoriya cleared his throat. 'You just, you sound like my mum.'

His mum?

'Oh.'

'N- Not that that's a bad thing!' Midoriya frantically waved his hands in front of him. 'In fact, thank you… For caring, I guess. You're a kind person, Todoroki-kun!'

Shoto didn't know what to make of that. His stomach felt funny and his face was burning but he wasn't sure why. He coughed to compose himself.

'My house is this way.' He nodded in the right direction and they set off before Shoto could say or do anything he might regret.

The two of them walked in silence. Shoto noticed his classmate fiddling with the straps of his backpack as he mumbled to himself, but he said nothing. In fact, he found that he quite liked Midoriya's voice. It was quite soothing.

Suddenly, he saw a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye and Shoto quickly looked to find Bakugou across the street. Midoriya hadn't noticed him yet, but Shoto recognised the sadistic smile plastered to Bakugou's face when he spotted the green-haired boy.

Shoto had a particular hatred of bullies, having grown up with one all his life. He knew about the general animosity between Midoriya and Bakugou, and how it had once ended up with the former out of school for almost a week when they were younger. Shoto also knew that Bakugou could be a violent fuck and, as a result, had never really bothered to talk to him.

Now though, Shoto saw the almost predatory look in his eyes as he smirked at Midoriya; he noticed how his classmate - his friend - froze at having been spotted.

'K- Kacchan…' Midoriya mumbled, a wobbly smile on his face. It made Shoto angry - not at Midoriya, but at Bakugou, and at himself for not intervening sooner, even though it wasn't really his problem.

Before he could stop himself, Shoto raised his arm and wrapped it around Midoriya's shoulder, bringing him close to his side. His classmate squeaked at the action, clearly tense.

'To- Todoroki-kun?!'

'Put your hand on my waist.' Shoto instructed, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. When Midoriya complied, snaking a trembling hand around him, Shoto hummed approvingly and looked up at Bakugou.

The blonde was watching them, mouth agape and clearly irritated. When he took a step towards them, Shoto flashed him a warning glare as if to say 'hands off', before pressing a swift kiss to Midoriya's fluffy curls to accentuate his point.

Bakugou stilled at that, his eye twitching, but Shoto knew he understood his position. On the social scale, Shoto was higher up than he was - as much as the latter wouldn't want to admit it - and so whoever Shoto said was off-limits was definitely off-limits. It didn't matter if it was an act or not.

The two of them continued forwards, watching as Bakugou eventually growled and skulked away. When he was out of sight, Midoriya audibly sighed and relaxed against him.

It was… Nice.

'Thank you.' His friend murmured. 'You didn't have to do that.'

'I wanted to.' Shoto shrugged. He knew he should relinquish his hold on Midoriya now that the threat had passed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The warmth that radiated from his classmate's touch was calming. Plus, Midoriya didn't seem too eager to let go either, so it wasn't like he was taking advantage of him or anything.

When they eventually reached his house, Shoto reluctantly broke away to fumble in his pocket for his keys. To his surprise though, the door was already unlocked.

Caution in his stance, he slid the door open and checked the shoe rack to see who was home. When Fuyumi's work shoes and Natsuo's trainers came into view, he sighed with relief and opened the door fully to alert his siblings of his arrival. 'It's me!'

It was only then that he registered Midoriya regarding him anxiously. 'Don't worry, it's just my brother and sister.'

'O- Okay.'

Shoto nodded and stepped inside, removing his shoes and waiting for Midoriya to do the same. He then led the way through his house, hoping there wouldn't be any interruptions, but alas, it seemed the universe hated him.

'Shotoutoooo!!!' Natsuo's voice rang out, before his older brother appeared, leaning against the door frame of his room. When he noticed Midoriya, half hidden behind Shoto, he grinned mischievously. 'You brought a friend over!'

'You- You didn't tell them I was coming?!' Midoriya squeaked so only Shoto could hear.

'Yes, I brought a friend home. What of it?' He ignored him and raised an eyebrow at his brother, unamused.

'Nee-San saw you two getting all lovey dovey down the street.'

'I don't-'

'It's true. Don't deny it!' Fuyumi's voice echoed down the hallway, eliciting a cackle from Natsuo.

'Whatever.' Shoto placed a hand on his hip, exasperated. 'Midoriya and I have a psychology assignment to get done, so I'd appreciate it if you fucked off.'

'Nawww, come on! I'm just having fun!' Natsuo winked before looking past him to address Midoriya. 'Shotouto pretends to be an aloof bad boy, but really he's a big softie who loves strawberry milk and manga. Isn't that right, Sho-?'

'NATSUO-NII!' Shoto exclaimed, completely mortified. He grabbed Midoriya's arm and dragged him down the corridor. 'We'll be leaving now!'

'Nice to meet you, Midoriya-kun!' Natsuo called, before Shoto slammed his bedroom door shut and sighed against it.

'He seems nice.' A quiet voice muttered.

Shit. Shoto's eyes widened and he took a breath, composing himself before he turned around to face Midoriya, who was fiddling with his sleeve.

'He's a pain in the arse.' He grumbled, before he strode forwards and set up the chabudai table in his room. 'He always does it. Something about wanting to make up for lost time.'

'Lost time?' Midoriya asked, removing his backpack to help.

'My old man wanted to keep me separate from my siblings when we were younger. Something about "not wanting to soil the perfect child".' Shoto shrugged, gathering two cushions and handing one to Midoriya. 'So it wasn't until about a year ago that I actually got to speak to them.'

'What happened a year ago?' Midoriya was definitely being nosy, but for some reason, Shoto didn't mind it; part of him actually wanted to tell him, even though he had no idea why. Something just told Shoto that he could trust him.

Or it's just because he's the first person your age who has ever bothered to ask. Another part of his mind supplied.

When the two of them sat down on the cushions adjacent to each other, Shoto pulled out his laptop, while Midoriya provided the textbook and workbook.

'When I was younger, my mother used to live at home too. She tried to protect us when the old bastard would come home and want to take his anger out on someone. He liked to take it out on me especially - make sure I toughened up - but she'd always turn his attention on her. One night, when I was about eight, mother had a complete breakdown. She saw the left side of my face, thought I was him and well… The closest thing was the kettle and boom.' He gestured vaguely to his scar. 'That's how this happened.'

Shoto didn't miss the look of complete horror on Izuku's face. 'He sent her away after that, which meant things got worse for me and my siblings. Aizawa-Sensei noticed my bruises last year and we've been working to get him put away, but it's difficult considering his position. It also didn't help that he's caught onto us and is now trying to pretend that everything is better now. That's why I'm allowed to see Natsuo and Fuyumi. He's been trying to manipulate things but he can't pretend forever.'

Shoto trailed off then and silence fell over them. He watched Midoriya for his reaction. He had never told anyone about that before.

He stared at his friend, but his vision became distorted. He thought of his old man, of how his mother had called him "unsightly" before burning him, of how his siblings used to look at him with apprehension and fear.

Shoto frowned. 'Sometimes I wonder if I'm just as bad as him.'

His words were spoken barely above a whisper, but the way Midoriya's head snapped to attention evidently showed that he had heard him.

'You know, Todoroki-kun…' He spoke gently, determined eyes finally meeting Shoto's own. 'I can't possibly understand everything you went through, but I do know this.'

A calloused hand landed on Shoto's shoulder and his vision re-focused to find a small smile gracing Midoriya's face. 'You're not your father. You're Todoroki Shoto, you're a kind person and you're my friend. He can't even compare to you.'

Shoto's mouth opened, but no words came out. Midoriya's words played on repeat in his head.

You're not your father. You're Todoroki Shoto.

He managed to turn his head away, hair hiding the stray tear that had fallen from his eye.

You're a kind person and you're my friend.

'Todoroki-kun, are you okay?'

So many thoughts were screaming inside his head. It was deafening, with Midoriya's words playing loudest of all.

He can't even compare to you.

'Toilet.' Shoto stood abruptly, pointedly not facing his classmate, and strode out of the room, ignoring Midoriya's bewildered shriek. He slid open the door to the bathroom opposite and shut himself away, turning the light on before he braced himself against the sink. His knuckles turned as white as the porcelain and he tried to calm his breathing.

Why was he acting like this? He was supposed to be calm, composed, aloof.

Just like father wanted. An unhelpful part of his mind taunted as tears streamed down his face. He felt a sob build up in the back of his throat. Hold it together. You're pathetic.

'Todoroki-kun.' His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. 'Should I get Natsuo or Fuyumi?'

'No!' Shoto exclaimed, a little harsher than he had intended. When Midoriya didn't immediately respond, he started to worry that he had scared him away.

'Okay.' His classmate eventually spoke, voice muffled due to the door. 'Can I come in?'

You don't want him to see you like this. You're supposed to be better than this-

'Yes.' He choked out, not looking up when the door slid open.

Gentle footfalls echoed on the tiles until Shoto felt a warm presence at his side. Midoriya then crouched down next to the sink to look up at Shoto.

'What's going through your mind?' He asked.

Everything.

'What you said just now, about me being kind and…' He swallowed heavily. 'You didn't mean it, did you? You were just saying it to make me feel better, right?'

'Oh, Todoroki-kun.' Midoriya gazed at him sadly. 'Of course I meant it. You told me to be honest with you, remember?'

Shoto leant his elbows on the sink to hold his face in his hands as he cried silently, only his ragged breathing exposing him.

He heard Midoriya shuffle to his feet. 'Can I… Can I hug you?'

Shoto blanked at that. Of all the things his friend could have said, he hadn't expected that. He furrowed his brow. When was the last time he had been properly hugged? With Fuyumi? His mother?

'Why?' He found himself asking instead, lowering his hands to look at Midoriya, who smiled softly at him.

'Because you look like you need it and I'm an expert hugger.'

Shoto blinked dumbly for a moment, regarding kind eyes, a genuine smile and open arms that radiated comfort, then slowly nodded.

'O- Okay…' He whispered.

Midoriya's smile brightened and he stepped forward, slowly wrapping his arms around Shoto's neck. One hand rested against his shoulder blades, while the other gently held the back of his head, guiding Shoto to the crook of Midoriya's neck. He went willingly and basked in the warmth, immediately relaxing against his friend.

Crooked fingers stroked his hair as Midoriya leant his head against him and he quickly became overwhelmed with emotion. Kind touches were so foreign to him that he usually hated the idea of physical contact. He didn't know why he had let Midoriya in, but he was glad he did.

A broken sob suddenly escaped him and he gingerly returned the hug, squeezing Midoriya's waist and clinging to his shirt. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, Midoriya's voice whispering words of encouragement until his eyes were dry, his friend's shirt was soaked and his throat was hoarse.

'I'm sorry.' He mumbled against Midoriya's neck. 'I don't know what came over me.'

'You don't owe anyone an apology.' His classmate quickly assured, echoing Shoto's words from a few days ago. 'Do you feel better?'

'I don't know.' Shoto answered honestly. Sure, letting his tears fall after years of bottling everything up was cathartic, but he had also unloaded all of his problems onto someone else just because of one comment; it made him feel disgusted at himself.

'It's okay not to be sure right now.' Midoriya pulled back to look him in the eye. 'I'll always be here to talk if you need, Todoroki-kun. We're friends and I want to help.'

Shoto must have pulled a face, because his classmate huffed, amused. 'It's an open offer. We can leave it for now.'

'Thank you, Midoriya.' Shoto didn't elaborate, but he didn't think he needed to, based on the way his friend's smile brightened.

'Shall we go work on our project for a bit?' Midoriya asked patiently. 'Then maybe we could watch a movie or something? I saw your Ghibli badges on your jacket - maybe we could watch one of them?'

Shoto wiped his eyes with his fist and nodded.

'That sounds nice.'

☀️🌙

'How could you?!' Izuku exclaimed, hand over his heart, horrified as his mum showed Todoroki his baby photos.

He had left them alone for one minute to get snacks, and now his soon-to-be-disowned mother was huddled up with his friend on the sofa, flicking through a photo album like it wasn't the most embarrassing thing in the world.

The two hardly spared him a glance, before continuing to point and giggle at baby Izuku in a hero onesie.

'Midoriya really is cute.' Todoroki smiled warmly and Izuku's cheeks suddenly felt a little hotter. 'How old was he in this one?'

It had been several weeks since their project had been assigned. Despite the emotional outbursts, they had managed to get their presentation done and performed. Their grades were still being determined, but Izuku was confident that they had done well.

That wasn't all that had happened though. Ever since that day Todoroki had opened up about his past, the two of them had grown closer, frequently texting and hanging out at Izuku's after school. They even spent their free periods together, which seemed to intrigue and confuse a lot of students. After all, Todoroki was the scary, mysterious pretty boy and Izuku was a self-identified nerd who liked to mumble to himself. Neither of them really cared about what their peers thought though.

As the days turned into weeks, however, Izuku realised that not only were people no longer tormenting him in the corridors, but Todoroki had started to smile more. Whenever Izuku would ramble about anatomy, he would listen, lips upturned and process every word with interest. Izuku loved his friend's smile and each one felt special because Izuku had caused it.

It took a single conversation with Uraraka to realise what was happening, and another one with Fuyumi to gain the courage to do what he was about to do.

'Mum, could I talk to Todoroki-kun alone for a minute?' Izuku rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. His mum knew about his crush - she had easily picked up on it due to Izuku's habit of muttering about the things he liked - so he hoped she would take the hint.

'Okay, sweetheart.' She grinned when Izuku's jaw dropped, mortified at the endearment. He also didn't miss the way Todoroki bit his bottom lip slightly with amusement.

Before Izuku could chastise her for clearly inappropriate behaviour in front of company, his mum closed the album and stood. 'I'll be in my room if you need me.'

When the door shut behind her, Izuku sighed with relief.

'I love her more than anything but I swear she gets some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing me suffer.' He groaned.

'I think she's great.' Todoroki smiled up at him. It lit up his entire face, no matter how small, and Izuku thought he looked beautiful.

Focus!

'So what did you want to talk about?' His friend asked, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other.

'You're a dear friend to me and I know we weren't close until recently, but you've become a big part of my life.' He began, fiddling with his hands to ease his nerves. 'I'm sorry, I don't really know how to say this.'

'It's okay.' Todoroki spoke, his smile vanishing. 'I understand if you feel like it's too much. Sometimes I can get a bit overwhelmed by all this - having a friend - but I treasure your friendship too, so I'll respect your decision if you want to stop-'

'Wait, what?' Izuku exclaimed. 'I'm trying to tell you that I have a crush on you, not that I don't want to be friends.'

Shoto stared at him with wide eyes.

…

Oh fuck.

Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a strangled cry as realisation set in. He wasn't even that surprised at having admitted his feelings; he was surprised at how easy it had been.

What wasn't easy was the look of uncertainty on Todoroki's face.

'Midoriya…'

'I'm so sorry for making you uncomfortable-'

'I have a crush on you too, I think.'

That was the thing he least expected his friend to say.

'You do?'

'Yeah.' Todoroki scratched at his flushed cheek, no longer looking like his usually-composed self and instead rather vulnerable. 'I've known for a while that I feel different towards you compared to others. I feel… Safe around you, like I can trust you, and while everyone calls you plain-looking, I think you're actually quite cute.'

Izuku felt like his head was going to explode. One, Todoroki had just called him cute; two, his crush just admitted to feeling safe around him; and three, Todoroki was looking at him with such sincerity that his chest ached.

'That makes me so happy, Todoroki-kun, you have no idea.' He whispered, tears spilling from his eyes. 'I feel the same about you, except you're not cute, you're… Actually quite breathtaking.'

When he was met with silence, Izuku looked up to find Todoroki looking at him with amusement.

'Well now you've made me look bad.' He huffed, standing up and walking towards him.

'You could never look bad. That was my whole point. ' Izuku quipped, before suddenly being enveloped in a hug.

That was another thing about their relationship that surprised Izuku in a good way: Todoroki, touch-starved most of his life, had become particularly fond of cuddles. Now, Izuku had no qualms with this - he encouraged his friend to smother him with hugs whenever he needed it - but this hug felt different. Several emotions were communicated in that moment.

It almost felt desperate, yet hopeful.

'I'll have to thank Aizawa for pairing us up for that project.' Todoroki murmured against his neck, eliciting a short laugh from Izuku.

'Yeah definitely.' He pulled away to take his friend's hand, interlocking their fingers. 'We can thank him together.'

Todoroki huffed with mirth.

'I like the sound of that.'

#tododeku #quirkless AU #midoriya izuku #todoroki shoto #minor tsuchako #tw: mentions of past abuse #lovely people #AgarJelly writes #and now i sleep #words don't look like words anymore

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hobihobihoe · 4 years

Text

Unruly - Part one

Obey me! + Mafia BTS + 0T7 au x reader

2.5k ish

Warnings : 18+ slowwww burn ~ eventual smut ~ descriptions of blood and violence ~ cliche city ~ alsooo uhh if you care about grammar this is not 4 U cause imma dumb bitch <3

Andd ahh this is the first thing i’ve ever written so its probably kinda shit.. :)

Great. Just great. Why did you agree to this again? Oh yeah because you’re a good person, or at least you’re trying to be. You’d just agreed to cover Rosies shift, apparently she was sick, but what you hadn't taken into account when you’d agreed to work was that Rosie had been booked to a private venue, well I guess now you had been booked to a private venue. You hated working private venues, as a bartender people would sometimes assume you provided the drinks or that because you weren't working at your company bar you would join in with shots or maybe give them a discount as you were a lone ranger incharge of yourself and providing alcohol for the night. One thing a private venue did mean though was money, getting paid nearly twice the amount you usually did as well as hopefully generous tips from wealthy clients. But still you weren’t quite sure three times the work was worth only double the pay, but well… fuck it you’ve gotta be a good friend/colleague and well person to Rosie so you just have to suck it up.

Thankfully it was a Saturday night so you didn't have to work it after being at university all day. So you bid farewell to the library you had been pretending to study at and headed home to get changed into something more presentable because a hoodie three times your size and leggings covered in dorito dust probably wouldn't fly at this kind of event.

As you opened the door you heard the crocky meows of your little baby, Zuki. He was an all black rescue cat that you'd adopted two years ago, when you’d started university, as a companion and partly because as soon as you saw his cute little face you were screwed and had to bring him home. You bent down to stroke his head and scratch behind his ear just the way he likes, which results in him vibrating with loud purrs that soften your heart. “Okay baby I love you but I gotta go get ready” Zuki looks at you with annoyance now that you've cut his pampering session short, he's such a spoiled little brat you think to yourself, but as he follows you into your bedroom with his tail high in the air and a slight sway in his steps you can't bring yourself to care. He is just too damn cute.

Now donned in your crisp white shirt and black dress pants you tame your hair enough so that it resembles a neatish bun, you say goodbye to your fur baby and head off to your car on your way to hopefully a nice paycheque.

When you arrive you're greeted by Jae. He leads you to the bar and tells you to ask him if there's anything you need. Okay so far so good, you've just gotta make yourself familiar with any specialised drinks on the menu and the rest should be smooth sailing. About 10 minutes after you arrive a large group of men appear, they sit down on two separate sides of the long table that takes up most of the room, they then send two men from each group respectively your way. Game time you think, the man that reaches the bar first is sweating noticeably, his black hair sticking to the front of his forehead matting the hair that it encompases. “sweetheart get me 6 doubles of gentleman jack over ice and 2 dry martinis”, you smile at him, so thankful that you wouldn't have to make any cocktails. They were time consuming and required a lot of faf essentially and a lot of cleaning up, “of course sir” you say as you smile at him, he barely acknowledges you as he goes to sit at one of the stools that lined the bar. As you get to making his drinks you hear the clearing of someone's throat, you look up and realise it was the other man that you had been coming over. You nearly choke on your spit at the sight of him. His pastel pink hair is delicately framing his cherub-like face, “Miss?”, oh shit you’d zoned out, “Oh i'm so sorry I missed what you said completely '' you admitted shly, he just gave a cute little chuckle. “ Its okay angel” you started to blush at the use of such an affectionate nickname “I asked if I could have 6 manhattans and a sex on the beach” great fucking coacktails you signed internaly, “Of course sir” that earned a smirk from him, you were just being professional, shit professional you had to remind yourself to focus on making the drinks as your traitorous eyes kept lingering in the area surrounding him.

As you finish preparing each individual drink you place them on the bar so the men can take them to booths. Just as you were setting down the final cocktail you brush fingers with the pink haired man, “oh... um” you say prepared to give him an apology but as you look up and meet his eyes you seem to lose your ability to form any kind of cohesive sentence “Jimin, angel, my names Jimin” he states “oh uh, Jimin I hope you enjoy your drinks'' you feel like a pathetic teenager again unable to talk to the pretty boy at the party. “I'm sure I will angel” he throws over his shoulder as he walks back to the group of men he’d emerged from, what was it with him saying that nickname that just made you giddy. God I really need to get out more you thought, maybe you could go out tomorrow as you wouldn't be working since you covered rosies shift, maybe then you could get some real action and should hopefully suasiate you for a bit. Ugh it's like Jimin had awoken something within you, which usually you’d be interested to explore, but considering that you were at work you were gonna just have to put his beautiful face to the back of your mind for when you got home later and could relax properly. Zesh should you feel creepy? No its not your fault that what was practically sex on legs was going about all unobtainable, thats what your imagination and your trusty vibrator were for anyway.

An hour later and you've made exactly three more drinks, wow, maybe if you stare at the champagne flute for another 10 minutes you'll unlock its secrets and it will be more interesting. Just as you were debating wiping down the bar for the hundredth time you hear chairs being pulled out and moved loudly. You look up to see that both groups of men which were previously amicably sat at the table now have guns aimed at each other. You freeze. You haven't ever seen a gun in person before and there must be well over ten now all presumably aimed and ready to fire. You dunk under the bar as you hear yelling start. You weren't able to focus on what was being said by the men, too busy trying to focus on controlling your breathing. Fuck. that sounded like a gun shot. And then another. You've lost track of how many shots you've heard, lots is the amount you settle on, maybe if you just stay behind the bar and stay quiet they'll forget you’re there and leave you alone. There is a long silence in the room, you try your best to mimic it when you notice the movement in one of the wine glasses that are stacked up behind the bar. Someone pushes the staff entrance to the bar open and strides towards you, gun in his right hand. You start to push yourself backward but are soon met with the edge of the bar, the man is dressed in all red and if it weren't for the specks of blood covering his face you would consider him unbelievably attractive. You seem to have been consumed by these thoughts because you suddenly come back into your physical reality, met with a gun now pointed only inches away from your face. You search his eyes for any kind of mercy or empathy you could try to appeal to, what shocks you is you only see a smoldering fire. You see his finger move on the trigger and close your eyes, you don't want the last thing you see to be a stranger. Just as you were going to try to think of pleasant things and the ones you cheriouish you hear a voice. “Hobi stop” Jimin said rather nonchalantly given your current situation, “Chim just let me tie up this loose end then we can get going” the other man, you guess Hobi? Sneered. Wow he just thought of killing you as an inconvenience, what a dick. “Hobi I think we could use her for something else” “what?” Hobi questioned sternly “well even Yoongi mentioned how good his drink was and we always have to get a new bartender every meeting and it would be easier if we had one who knew who we were so when this kind of shit happens again we haven't got any loose ends” Jimin points out. Hobi seems to consider this for a minute before he moves away in a different direction to Jimin, you try to follow his eye line but because of your placement on the floor you can’t see over the bar. “Joon, obviously the call is yours to make” Hobi announces. “It does seem to be a practical suggestion and Jimin must have taken a liking to her if he stopped you, so I don't see why not” the ominous voice declared. After a second of those words sinking in you realise that they have just decided to take you with them, to take you captive.

You start to shake, turning your head to meet Jimin's eye “no uh..um.no please don't take me” you sniffle “I promise I never saw anything, I won't say anything p-please just let me go home” you can barley make out your own words as they are effectively smothered by your tears and your small gasps for breath as you aren't able to regulate your breathing. Jimin elegantly slides over the bar and bends down to your height “Angel don't be so silly, you're coming with us. You should really be thanking me” he gives you a small wink. That causes a fresh wave of panic to settle over you, you know there's a fire exit further down in the bar hidden within the sinks and stock area, with the spike of adrenaline you start to run towards the exit. It looks like it's going well until you hear a loud bang, then the feeling of the side of your head being hit registers, lastly you notice your eyesight unfocusing before darkness seems to override and then suddenly, nothing.

~JIMINS POV~

“Yoongi was that really necessary?” Jimin akses with a slight frown on his face. The older man shrugs “someone had to do something” Jimin sighs and looks at Jungkook, “it will be easier if you carry her.”

~YOUR POV~

When you open your eyes again you see white, adjusting slightly, you realise your laying on a bed. You sit up and look around the room. There are 5 other beds that you can see, they are all small single beds with a chest at the end of each. You look over your surroundings for a few minutes before you remember the circumstances leading up to you being here. You touch the back of your head and wince when your fingers meet a small swollen bump. You decided you should probably try and leave, poor Zuki is probably waiting for you to fill his food bowl. Wow, you realise in this situation you think of your cat's mortality more than your own, well you guess that's what your life has amounted to. Just as you stand up the door opens. “Oh you're awake now” You look over to see the small older woman who was speaking “Umm.. where am i?” The lady gives you a small smile “You're in the maids room sweetie.” Great that's cleared up nothing, you think bitterly. “Can I talk to whoever's in charge? Please?” You think this is probably your best bet, explain to them that you just want to go hope and hopefully they'll be humane enough to agree with that. “Yes, he wanted me to come and get you anyway” She states as she turns around walking away from the doorway, you start to follow her. As you continue walking through the hallways and up the stairs of this seemingly huge mansion you notice several men standing guard with guns rested in their hands, ready at all times. You start to wonder if maybe your idea is ridiculous as you realise wherever you are and whatever you have gotten yourself involved in may be larger than the small group of men you'd seen at the bar. Your worrying is cut short as the women raises her hand and knocks at a door you have stopped outside off, a short “Come in” is what is answered from the other side of the door, the older women looks to you, “You should go in alone, i'll be waiting for you here” You look at her and then to the door “Uh... thank you?” You’re not really sure what the appropriate response is in this situation but you don't want to be rude, she gives you a short nod and smile.

Once you open the door you're faced with one of the men you'd seen before. He regards you with a very slight smile before he gestures to a chair placed in front of the desk he is sitting behind, you walk over to sit at the chair before you look at him directly. You aren't sure if the bang to the head you had received had caused temporary delusions, but as you look at him you swear you see light radiating out of him. You meet his eyes for a second before you decide they are too intimidating and look away, “You wanted to see me?” you ask meekly, deciding to for now abandon your plea for freedom. “Yes, I did, i'm not sure if you remember why we brought you here so i’ll just go over your role again” he starts “You’re going to be working as our personal bartender, this means you will joins us on outings that we deem appropriate and also make our drinks whilst we are here, at the base” he then moves his face into your eye line so that he can make eye contact “And in return of your services we’ll let you live” he finishes his small speech with a slight smile, as if he had just offered you a job and you weren't being threatened and held captive in this place. You take a few minutes to think over what he had just said, you come to the conclusion that for now faking compliance is probably the safest thing you can do until you are able to find a window to escape. “Who do you mean when you say we?” you enquire, you weren't sure if you should be questioning the leader of this organisation?, but your curiosity had won over any of the other responses you considered.

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ibijau · 3 years

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part 8 of the Nomad Nie AU // On AO3

Lan Xichen worries, Huaisang explains

warning for mentions of children dying and miscarriages

Something was wrong with Huaisang.

Lan Xichen might have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention to his husband. Huaisang, lovely and cheerful and just a touch capricious, was surprisingly good at deflecting and hiding what he didn’t want to show, it turned out. He was a skilled liar as well, telling his brother that the blood on his sleeve was from a horse he’d had to care for and he just hadn't had time to clean it yet, that if he was nervous it was only because there was so much to prepare before they moved camp. Mingjue showed some suspicion at first, but his brother just had to complain against being treated like a child, letting his voice rise a little to hint that he was ready to have a fight, and the Khan dropped the matter. He was busy too after all, and trusted his brother to tell him if there was a problem.

Up until then, Lan Xichen would have shared that certainty. Now though, seeing those bandages that always ended up stained red even days after the wound should have closed…

The first day, Lan Xichen didn't worry too much about it. It could have been that the cut was deeper than he'd realised, or that the story behind it was actually more embarrassing than what his husband had initially told him.

The second day, he assumed that Huaisang was going to explain to him why he was still bleeding, as soon as they could catch a moment alone… But for some reason Huaisang just had no time at all for him that day, and so the right moment didn't come.

On the third day Lan Xichen grew tired of that game. He asked a few questions to Zonghui, obtained something that he hoped would help, and set out to corner his husband. That day too, Huaisang seemed determined to avoid him, but there were only so many places he could hide. Lan Xichen eventually found him sitting behind another ger with a few children who were helping him mend covers.

"I'm busy," Huaisang announced without so much as looking up toward his husband. "We're busy. Whatever you want, it can wait until tonight."

Lan Xichen hummed nonchalantly, refusing to let that suddenly cold attitude get to him, and pulled out some aaruul from his sleeve, immediately catching the children's attention.

"I give this, you go," Lan Xichen offered. "I help Huaisang repair, yes ?"

The children, without surprise, agreed to the deal and quickly ran off to eat the sweets without being bothered. Huaisang frowned and pouted, but didn't stop working.

"If this isn't ready on time it's your fault!" he grumbled, still refusing to look away from his work. "Their mother is going to be mad at you!"

"And I'm cross at you," Lan Xichen retorted, kneeling down next to his husband. "Show me your arm."

Huaisang shivered, his hands stilling over the blanket.

"My arm is fine, there's nothing to show."

"If there's nothing wrong, then why can't I see it?"

Refusing to answer, Huaisang pinched his lips and went back to work. Lan Xichen tried to grab his husband's wrist, but Huaisang dropped the blanket and leapt out of reach.

"You're unreasonable," Lan Xichen accused as his husband scrambled to his feet, ready to flee. "I just want to check the cut to see how it's healing, and Zonghui gave me a balm that…"

"I already have Mingjue to deal with!" Huaisang snapped. "I don't need another person treating me like a baby, so leave me alone!"

Lan Xichen stood up as well, puzzled and somewhat annoyed by that reaction.

"I'm not treating you like a child, I'm treating you like my husband, who I'm worried for. If you'd just let me help…"

"I don't need anyone's help!" Huaisang hissed. "Not yours, not Mingjue's! I'm fine, and I just want people to let me be for once!"

"Huaisang, I'm just…"

Before Lan Xichen could say anything more, Huaisang had run off. Shocked by that outburst, Lan Xichen remained frozen in place. It was just a cut, and he hadn’t thought he’d been particularly overbearing, but he didn’t know Nie customs so well yet, and he couldn’t be sure what was or wasn’t acceptable between spouses. A little upset that his efforts had been met with such hostility, Lan Xichen sat down again and took over mending the cover, the way Huaisang had taught him.

Having something to do helped take his mind off of the situation, if nothing else.

Huaisang did not return to the ger they shared with Mingjue that night. Instead, the Khan told Lan Xichen that his brother had decided to spend the night with his cousin Zonghui, apparently to help his family with some work they were doing.

A fear like nothing he’d ever known seized Lan Xichen, gnawing at his ribbing cage, creating a cold pit in his stomach. He remembered, suddenly, that Meng Yao had warned him on his first day that Huaisang’s emotions, as deep as they might appear, changed quickly and without warning. They’d been happy so far, and Lan Xichen was impossibly fond of his husband, too fond perhaps. If things were to end already, if Huaisang had moved on…

“Did something happen?” Khan Mingjue asked, sitting on the other side of the ger.

Lan Xichen hesitated. He knew the Khan would wish to know about his brother’s wound, and maybe he would have managed to force Huaisang to accept help for it. At the same time, Huaisang had made it very clear that he didn’t want his brother involved in this. Lan Xichen, selfishly, didn’t want to risk truly ruining what they had by betraying him, not unless it really became necessary.

“We had an argument,” he simply said, promising himself he’d come clean in a day if Huaisang still appeared to be bleeding.

“And he was not winning it,” Khan Mingjue guessed. “Huaisang doesn’t like losing. He’ll be angry for a while, and then he’ll pretend nothing happened. You’ll get used to ignoring his moments of bad temper.”

It would have been exaggerated to say that Mingjue’s tone was warm, but it wasn’t exactly cold either. Lan Xichen thought that there might have been some pity in the Khan’s voice, or at least some sympathy. Considering how little regards he had for Lan Xichen since that hunting trip, it was a comfort to see that he wasn’t gloating about their current dispute. It had to mean that Mingjue knew they really would reconcile.

At least, Lan Xichen clung to that hope.

The next morning, Lan Xichen decided not to go train with Zonghui. He had slept poorly, too used by now to having a presence at his side to feel comfortable without it, and it seemed dangerous to hold a weapon in that tired state. Besides, there was much to be done inside the ger. The move would start in just a few days, so everything not absolutely necessary had to be put away. It was normally something done in family to go faster, but Khan Mingjue was busy with other things and left quickly, so Lan Xichen was on his own.

It felt a little awkward to be taking care of this alone, when Huaisang had at one point promised they would do it together so he could show Lan Xichen what to do with everything. On his own, Lan Xichen dared not do much more than fold the pelts and covers around him. He was tempted to ask Meng Yao to join him, but doubted his friend would have accepted. He never entered the Khan’s ger if he could avoid it.

That line of thought became irrelevant when after a little while, Huaisang strode into the ger, looking as if he’d slept as poorly as Lan Xichen, his usually neat braids still messed up from the night, and an unhappy expression on his face.

"Mingjue scolded me," Huaisang grumbled in lieu of an explanation. "Said I had no business making you sad so soon after getting married."

Lan Xichen risked a smile. After how angry Huaisang had seemed the day before, it was a relief just for him to be around again.

"I'm more worried than sad," Lan Xichen cautiously noted. "Though I suppose I am sad you feel you can't share things with me."

Huaisang grimaced. He came to kneel down near Lan Xichen and started putting away his set of tools for working leather, turning his back on his husband.

"I trust you with everything," Huaisang firmly said. "But this is something special. It's… I've never told anyone. Menyao doesn't know. The rest of my family doesn't know, just me and Mingjue. If people knew… It would create problems for Mingjue, and it'd be dangerous for me."

Lan Xichen finished rolling the pelt in his hands, taking the time to consider this carefully.

"This isn't just about you getting cut, is it?"

Huaisang shrugged.

"I see. Then I will drop the matter," Lan Xichen promised. "I won't make you share more than you can. I trust you to let me help when needed."

Looking at him again, Huaisang snorted.

"You probably shouldn't. Mingjue doesn't trust me about this."

"He's your brother, and I'm your husband. It's normal for us to have different expectations. You’ve said many times it upsets you that he treats you like a child. I want to treat you like an adult, and that means trusting you. I don’t need to know this. I just have to believe you’ll tell me if I can do something to help."

Huaisang stared at him with wide, shiny eyes. He looked almost as if he might cry, just from being told his judgement was trusted. It made Lan Xichen feel a spark of anger at Khan Mingjue, all the more so because he had to know that Huaisang was unhappy about being treated this way. He didn’t want to dwell on unhappy feelings though, not when his husband and him seemed to have reconciled, so instead he shuffled closer to Huaisang and dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“If you say you’re fine, you’re fine,” Lan Xichen insisted. “Now let’s get to work and empty this ger. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be putting away, so you’ll have to tell me.”

Huaisang, still a little stunned, nodded weakly and started giving directions. There really was a lot to do all over the ger, but Lan Xichen decided to stick close to his husband for now, even if it wasn’t very efficient to be working like this. It was a little ridiculous to have missed Huaisang this much, but he was glad to have him back and set out to work with greater cheer than before.

Huaisang, for his part, was rather slow as he continued putting away his tool, until eventually he stopped entirely, a determined expression on his face.

“What have you heard about my parents?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, as if they were just making conversation as usual.

Lan Xichen’s hands slowed for a moment, surprised by the question, before he quickly resumed what he was doing.

“Your father was the previous Khan, and your mother was his second wife,” he replied. “I’ve been told they both died when you were still somewhat young.” He hesitated. “I’ve also heard that your father thought someone had cursed him.”

Huaisang nodded grimly.

“Hm. When Mingjue was three, my father married his second wife, and they quickly had a child together,” he said. Lan Xichen did some quick counting based on the age difference between Mingjue and Huaisang, and frowned as realisation struck him. “It was a boy,” Huaisang continued, “and he seemed healthy enough, even if the birth was difficult on my mother. Mingjue told me that the baby was just starting to crawl and bothered a dog that bit him and… and he never stopped bleeding, not until he was dead. But that happens, right? Babies are fragile, most don’t make it to adulthood.”

Lan Xichen weakly nodded, watching his husband poke at the wound on his wrist that seemed to take so long to heal.

“My mother got pregnant again soon after,” Huaisang went on, staring at the box of tools in front of him. “The second son they had died in childbirth, and my mother almost did as well. But this too happens. It’s always dangerous to give birth, and the baby was coming early. Then, there was me. I was fine, even if my mother almost died again, but she recovered and things were really fine for a few years. Then…”

He poked a little harder at his arm and winced in pain, yet did it again, as if he couldn't stop himself.

"My father put me on a horse before I could walk," Huaisang explained, still relentlessly poking and pressing until a spot of red appeared on the fabric of his deel. "Everyone here would say the same about their father, but he really did. And I was pretty good at it, too. At just three, father was letting me ride alone, at least if the horse was of decent temper. Mingjue says even back then, I loved horses more than anything. But one day, the horse I was riding got scared and made me fall, and I hit my head."

He pressed hard on his wound, gritting his teeth in pain. Lan Xichen reached out to make him stop. Huaisang pushed his hand away, but stopped poking at last.

"I don’t remember, obviously, "Huaisang whispered. "Mingjue was already twelve though, so he was there for it all. He says I bled for days and days and days, and they thought I’d die, like my brother. I didn’t, but it was close. Still… kids are fragile, right ? So father didn't think too much about it. Not until it happened again the year after, when I played with Mingjue's brand new saber. I cut myself pretty deep and again, I just continued bleeding for days and days.”

"Huaisang, that's…"

"Wasn't allowed to touch anything sharp after that," Huaisang went on. "Then when a few weeks later, after finally recovering, I got into a fight with some other kids. Can't even say about what. It was stupid for sure, and one of them punched me in the face. After that, father and mother forbade me from playing with other children. Forbade me from riding horses, too. They told me I'd die if I got hurt again. I was just about five, and my nose wouldn't stop bleeding from that one punch, so I obeyed. I never really got out of the ger anymore. And then, because that wasn't bad enough…"

Huaisang curled on himself. Lan Xichen, unable to stay away a moment more, plastered himself against his back, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist. This time Huaisang didn't resist, and even leaned against his chest.

"In the span of a year, my father lost both his wives. Mingjue's mother caught sick that winter and didn't recover. Around the same time, my mother became with child again. She had another miscarriage, and she didn't survive that one. Father became convinced that he had been cursed. Maybe he was. This much bad luck for a single man, how could it be possible otherwise?"

Unsure what to answer, Lan Xichen only held him closer.

"Then the Wens heard about it," Huaisang sighed, molding himself against Lan Xichen's chest. "We've never gotten along too well with them, so they saw this as a chance to create problems. They tried to convince some of the families in the tribe that he shouldn’t be Khan anymore, that someone else should take the title. They didn't know about me, but with three dead sons and two dead wives in such a short time, it was already enough to cast doubt."

He shivered and closed his eyes.

"It… it got really bad," he whispered, sounding half frightened by memories. "There were fights and arguments, and then father died, and Mingjue had to fight so hard to become Khan, even though he was still so young. Of course, he won in the end,” Huaisang pointed out.

In spite of the dark memories, his voice was dripping with pride for his brother. Lan Xichen smiled, and kissed his husband's hair.

“But not everyone was happy with him being Khan," Huaisang confessed. "He really was young for it, and some people worried that father's curse might have been passed on to him. Mingjue too was worried, I think, so he didn't look for a wife, and he told me that we would continue hiding my problem. It seemed safer… and I didn't really mind, at first. I remembered how much I'd bled when that other kid punched me, so I was scared it would happen again if I played with other children, or if I did anything at all. People said I was lazy and spoiled like a Han emperor, but I didn't care. Not at first."

"Not until you got lonely," Lan Xichen guessed, thinking of his mother, who also was never allowed to leave the house, who was so lonely and hopeless toward the end.

He'd never been told the whole story, but it was common knowledge that there had been a rebellion against the emperor just before she married his father. Several officials had died, including a local magistrate linked to their family. Anyone caught had been out to death, and the others had gone into hiding.

If his mother had been linked to this, no wonder a woman with such passion in her heart had not fared well locked up in a merchant's house. She'd really looked so sad toward the end… And it was easy to imagine Huaisang wilting away in the same way, when he was never happier than riding his horse.

"At one point, Mingjue became decided I'd die of boredom even more surely than if I cut myself," Huaisang confirmed. "So he started giving me some liberty again. I was getting old enough to be careful, anyway. He let me have a horse again, and it was like… Like I'd forgotten what it was like to be alive until then. I couldn't race, I couldn't go hunt, I couldn't go anywhere out of view of the camp unless Mingjue was with me, but it was so good, it was enough. Then I was allowed to train the hawks too, and that too was so good. We'd go hunting together when he had time. He didn't, usually, but I lived for those times he did. It really was enough… Until it wasn't."

"Those incidents after Meng Yao arrived."

Huaisang nodded.

"Menyao couldn't know. He… I think sometimes that he knew that Mingjue really didn't want me to do things on my own, but he encouraged me anyway. He was trying to be a good friend and to help me show I could be more independent, I know he meant well, but that just went so badly for him, and it’s really my fault if he’s in a bad position now. I shouldn’t have been selfish, I shouldn’t have asked to keep him with me, but I was lonely."

Lan Xichen pulled Huaisang tighter against himself. Before knowing about this, he would have agreed that Mingjue was overprotective and it couldn't be good for his brother. Now though, with everything that had happened to them, he understood the Khan a little better. It really was a miracle that Mingjue had allowed his brother to get married. Lan Xichen must really have looked completely harmless to him, or he wouldn't have agreed to Huaisang's caprice.

"Does it bother you that your brother acts like this?" Lan Xichen asked.

"Of course it does!" Huaisang whined. “I know Mingjue is like that because he’s worried. And he has reasons to be worried. But I want a normal life. I want to go hunting, I want to ride out and check on the herds! I’m not saying he should let me join raids, I’m not stupid! I don’t even want to do that! But there’s so many things I could be doing without taking too much risk and Mingjue just… He just… I'm not a child anymore, why can't he see that?"

It wasn’t about seeing Huaisang as a child, Lan Xichen thought, because all he wanted at that moment was to grab his husband and put him somewhere safe, the safest place possible, and never let him get near anything that might harm him. Even knowing how much Huaisang hated being so sheltered, the impulse was there… but it would have been the greatest of cruelty to do such a thing, and Lan Xichen loved his husband too much to let him wilt away like a flower cut from its roots.

“If he can’t see it at the moment, then we’ll work on making him accept that you’re old enough to choose your own path,” Lan Xichen offered. “Running away and doing things behind his back isn’t working, so we’ll find another way.”

“There’s no other way,” Huaisang sighed, dropping his head against his husband’s shoulder and pouting. “He’s so stubborn, he doesn’t listen to me and to what I want!”

“We’ll make him listen,” Lan Xichen promised, kissing his husband’s temple. “I’m already training with Zonghui so I can protect you when your brother isn’t around, so I’ll continue doing that. As for you… we need to make him see that you’re not going to run off and hunt wolves just to impress others anymore. He needs to see you as you really are now. The way I see you. I know how serious you are when you want, I’ve seen you look over children, I’ve seen you try to help others in whatever way you can, even if there are things you can’t do. We’ll make him see you’ve grown, and that he can trust you.”

“Mingjue is too stubborn, he won’t listen.”

“Then we’ll just have to be more stubborn than him,” Lan Xichen retorted. “It will take the time it takes, he probably won’t change his mind in a day, but now we are working on this together. If you want, that is?”

Huaisang sighed, but still nodded. He looked rather unconvinced by that plan of action, but Lan Xichen figured it wasn’t a surprise. Perhaps Khan Mingjue wasn’t the only one who needed to be convinced that things didn’t have to be this way.

They stayed like that a little while, Huaisang leaning against his husband, too shaken by the intense conversation to go back to tidying right away. Lan Xichen, always happy to have him in his arms, didn’t mind at all, content to hold him close especially now that he knew how close they came to never having had the chance to meet. If Huaisang had been as unlucky as his brothers…

“Are you really going to continue being my husband?” Huaisang suddenly asked, leaning a little harder into Lan Xichen’s embrace. “Even now?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Instead of answering, Huaisang vaguely motioned at his arm. Because of all his earlier poking and probing, the fabric of his sleeve was stained with blood.

“I won’t leave you unless you ask me to leave,” Lan Xichen promised, kissing his cheek.

“Even if others find out and say I’m cursed?”

“If this is a curse, then I’ll help you bear it. You’re my husband, it’s how things should be.”

“But you didn’t even want to be my husband!” Huaisang pointed out.

“I didn’t,” Lan Xichen admitted. “Not at first. But now I do, so you’re stuck with me.”

Huaisang snorted at that answer, and giggled when Lan Xichen, determined how very much he wanted to be married now, started kissing every part of Huaisang’s face that he could reach.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #this is a big angst chapter but hopefully the little bits of softness in it will help?#jau writes #nomad nie

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missperfectlyfine13 · 4 years

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Could This Be Something Real?

Summary: Beca takes Chloe as her date to the grammy's and now the world thinks they are together

Bechloe Week 2020 - Day 5: "Fake Dating"

Read Below or on AO3

“Beca you have to take someone with you to the Grammy’s, you can’t just go alone,” Beca’s PR team has been trying to convince her of the fact that she needs a date for the last half hour.

“I just don’t get why I can’t go by myself,” Beca huffs, leaning back in her chair angrily, “does it matter who I bring?”

“No…” Diane, her manager, starts to say before Beca cuts her off abruptly.

“Ok, I’ll bring Chloe then,” Beca says decidedly.

“That’s not what we really had in mind…”

“I don’t care, if I have to bring someone I want it to be someone I will at least have a good time with,” she’s sick of fighting with them on this, and Chloe would be over the moon to go to the Grammy’s.

Everyone seems to collectively back down, especially since they got Beca to at least agree to bring someone, even if that someone is not a celebrity. They had a list a mile long for Beca to choose from, all people that would help her budding career if she was seen with them. Beca is up for 3 Grammy’s which is huge, considering it’s all for her debut album. Which is all the more reason for Beca to want someone she actually cares about to be there with her.

“I’m going to call her right now,” Beca whips out her phone and already has Chloe’s number dialed before anyone can stop her.

Chloe picks up on the second ring and when Beca tells her, she screams so loud Beca’s entire team can hear her.

************

The day of the Grammy’s Chloe comes over to Beca’s house, where she has an entire team waiting to do their hair and makeup. Beca lets her stylists pick both her and Chloe’s outfits. She’s not sure what either of them are wearing yet.

After a few solid hours of being pampered, Beca is standing in her bedroom wearing a slim black dress, it’s a little understated in comparison to others she has seen but it’s still one of the most expensive things Beca has ever had on her body. This is her first BIG Hollywood event too. Her hair is curled, and partly pulled back and she has on so much makeup she scarcely recognizes herself.

When she finally makes it downstairs, Chloe is no where to be seen. They must still be getting her ready. After what seems like an eternity, she hears heels on the steps of the stairs.

When Beca finally sees Chloe, her breath is stolen away, and her jaw hits the floor. She’s so beautiful it hurts. She’s in an emerald green dress, floor length and strapless. Her hair is curled into an intricate updo, her makeup not as heavy as Beca’s but it’s definitely not a natural look. Chloe sees her staring and giggles lightly.

“I think that this dress costs more than every car I’ve ever owned combined,” Chloe is touching the sides of the dress dreamily, “this is amazing…you look amazing by the way.”

“You look gorgeous,” Beca tries to pull her gaze away but she can’t.

“You ladies ready?” her assistant for the night asks, “the car is outside.”

Beca nods and outstretches her hand for Chloe to take. She eagerly takes it and they walk out to the car waiting for them.

“You know, everyone was telling me while I was getting ready, that it’s really ballsy of you to take me to the Grammy’s,” Chloe mentions as they start to drive down the road.

Beca nods, “I guess it is.”

“Is it because I’m not famous?” Chloe asks carefully.

“Actually, I think it’s more about the fact that you’re a woman,” she shrugs.

Her PR team had made it very clear that this could definitely create a rumor that Chloe is her girlfriend…and that Beca is gay. Her PR team said it could hurt her since she’s so newly famous. But Beca is gay, and she doesn’t want to hide forever. Why not rip the band aid off right away?

“They don’t want you to be public with your sexuality?” Chloe raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“No, they think it could hurt me, they were also worried about the rumors that could start about us,” Beca admits.

“Like that we’re together or something?” the red head asks, clarifying Beca’s statement.

She nods in confirmation, “Yea.”

“Well I think you should be yourself,” Chloe says boldly, “it’s better to ditch the people that won’t accept you right away.”

“That’s what I think too.”

************

Beca wins all 3 Grammy’s.

The first one they announce she actually cries…on national television.

The second one, she’s so shocked she can barely walk back up to the stage.

The third one, Chloe pulls her into a hug so tight she can barely breath. She kisses her on the cheek and Beca walks to the stage beaming from ear to ear.

After a wild night of afterparties, Beca can barely open her eyes the next morning. She vaguely registers the presence of someone else in her bed. She finally manages to roll over and sees a mop of red hair splayed out on the pillow next to her. Both girls had only had the energy to strip out of their dresses and fell asleep in their bras and underwear.

A loud snore escapes her best friend, who is clearly still very much asleep. Beca grabs her phone and is greeted by an onslaught of messages from her PR team, manager, basically her whole team. What they had all feared has come true. Beca opens up an article her assistant attached in a text.

Beca Mitchell makes a clean sweep at her first Grammy’s…with her new girlfriend by her side

She opens another.

Beca Mitchell is Gay?

And she opens yet another.

Beca Mitchell debuts hot girlfriend and sexuality at the Grammy’s.

She rolls her eyes. People are so quick to assume. Beca doesn’t care if the world knows she’s gay, but she doesn’t want to rope Chloe into this too.

Her phone rings before she can even think about replying to one of her million messages. She steps out of the bedroom, so she won’t wake her sleeping best friend.

“Did you see it?” the voice of her lead PR person rings through her ears.

“Yea I saw, what should we do?”

“Do you think you can fake date Chloe for a while?”

“What!?!” Beca screeches into the phone.

“Beca you’ve gained thousands….millions of followers overnight. People are eating this up. They love that you’re gay, they love your girlfriend, it would really help your image.”

“Oh, so now it’s ok that I’m gay.”

“That’s not what I meant, it was always ok.”

“Not really, but ok, you want to exploit my sexuality and make Chloe fake date me. You want to rope her into this mess just so people will like me?”

“It sounds really harsh when you say it that way.”

“That’s because it is.”

Beca hangs up the phone angrily before he can even think of responding. When she walks back in the room, Chloe is sitting up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“What was that about?” she yawns.

“So, the whole world thinks you’re my girlfriend,” Beca plops back down onto the bed tiredly.

“Oh, wow,” Chloe looks as surprised as she can for how not awake she is.

“And my PR team wants us to fake date for a while, because apparently the world loves gay Beca and her hot red head girlfriend,” Beca rolls her eyes, “but don’t worry, I’m going to tell them no.”

Chloe looks at her like she’s dumb, “Why?”

“Because we aren’t dating?” Beca is looking at her just as confused.

“If it’ll help your image, I don’t mind doing it for a while,” Chloe shrugs.

“Doesn’t it feel wrong and weird to you?”

“It might be a little weird, but it’s not like we’re putting on the ball and chain. We can do it for a while, then ‘break up’” Chloe says, making air quotes with her fingers.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” Beca double checks.

“Yea why not? This is the most action I’ll have gotten in a while,” Chloe winks at her teasingly.

“You’re so weird,” Beca shoves her before calling her PR team back.

************

The world absolutely eats up Beca Mitchell and her “new girlfriend” Chloe. Chloe is launched into fame so quickly that neither of them have time to process it.

“Dating” Chloe is also easier than Beca was expecting. It’s easy and fun. Beca likes taking her on dates, she likes making cute Instagram posts. She likes gushing about her budding relationship in interviews. By the looks of it, Chloe is having just as much fun as she is. It makes her wonder if the feelings they are pretending are as fake as they claim.

“Bec?” Chloe walks over to her, phone outstretched.

“Yea?”

“Take a cute pic with me, I need to make a new post,” the red head sits down and wiggles herself as close as she can to Beca.

Chloe leans in close and pecks Beca on the cheek, capturing it all with her phone. Beca can still feel her cheek tingling where Chloe’s lips had been. It’s been that way lately, her heart speeds up whenever she’s around her best friend. Sparks fly up her arm when they hold hands.

Does Chloe feel it too? How fake is this anymore?

“So has your PR team told you when we should break up?” Chloe asks nonchalantly as she makes her Instagram post.

Beca feels her heart break in two at the question, she knew it would be something they’d talk about soon, “I don’t know, I can ask them.”

“No rush,” Chloe says sweetly, smiling at Beca.

Beca nods, trying to swallow back an unexpected batch of tears. She definitely won’t rush this. Beca has decided she wants to prolong their “dating” for as long as she can, because as much as she hates to admit it. She has feelings for Chloe.

Maybe Chloe will eventually have feelings for her too.

#bechloe week #bechloe week 2020 #pp fanfic #bechloe #my stuff

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

Text

Pumpkin Disaster

Richard could almost smell the cinnamon spice, vanilla scent and cinnamon sugar in the air. The colors of the leaves changed from green to a dazzling display of red, orange and yellow. The air became crisper and temperatures dropped a bit as a chill came into the air.

Richard Grayson absolutely loved Halloween. As expected of the eldest Wayne sibling, he was the kind of person who enjoyed decorating and preparing the manor for Halloween because of his everlasting enthusiasm for holidays. He loved the cheesy and horror movies, the excuse to stuff his face with candy, the seasonal special editions of cereal, the elaborate and extravagant costumes, the creative decorations. It was his second favorite holiday. And he definitely considered it a holiday.

Halloween wasn’t just a day to him. Oh no. The whole month of October was Halloween. But with his vigilante duties, intermittent Titans training and constant Gotham crises cropping up, he had made it through two weeks of the month without an ounce of Halloween festivity. But that was about to change.

“You never carved pumpkins for Halloween?” Dick Grayson asked incredulously, pressing a hand to his chest in a move overly dramatic.

Damian exclaimed a familiar ‘TT’ in response. For him seeing people playing pretend, wearing flashy and ridiculous costumes was not particularly interesting. Thought they weren’t much different from the impractical clothing Todd and Richard insisted on wearing. It was just a recurrent reminder that he was not a normal child.

“Which part of I was raised in the inhospitable and desolate mountains you didn’t comprehend, Grayson?” Damian brusquely returned with furrowed eyebrows.

“But we cannot celebrate it without carving your first pumpkin...” Grayson sounded so downhearted it stung Damian with shadowy guilt. Out of all his adoptive siblings Grayson was the pleasant and tolerable one. Damian swallowed hard.

“I want all of us to carve a pumpkin!” Dick declared holding up his index finger in contempt. Damian raised a dark eyebrow as a go on communicating silently. “We are all doing this together as a family.”

“It’s not necessary. I’m not a small child anymore.” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes before refocusing on his Robert Frost book, flipping another page. No. He would not acquiesce easily into this. He was self-sufficient, mature preteen. Not a child.

“Demon spawn, you are only eleven.” Jason commented before putting out a finished cigarette. Fortunately Alfred wasn’t lurking around to give him disapproving eyes for smoking inside the manor.

“Is this your way of asking for a new scar, Todd?” Damian threatened through gritted teeth and clenched fists, mind quickly calculating the damage of throwing an explosive batarang.

“You’re getting less insufferable to be around.” Jason scoffed and met Damian with a sly smirk. “Dickie, pouting is not an acceptable reaction for a full-grown adult.” Jason sing-songed as he grabbed his motorbike keys.

“This includes you Jaybird. I plan on getting you into the Halloween spirit.” Dick announced with his authoritative leader tone, letting Jason know he would be part of this wether he liked it or not.

Jason groaned dreadfully, cursing under his breath. Great. Now he was part of the Halloween circus. At least he didn’t have to take the annoying gremlin pumpkin picking. God knows what would happened if they fed him candy. The thought gave Jason chilling goosebumps.

Damian folded his arms over his chest in a sign of disagreement. “I don’t do pumpkins. It’s a waste of food. It amounts to about 18,000 tons of pumpkin, including flesh and seeds. Have you read the recent studies on how it’s destroying the environment?”

“Come on, D. You will have fun. You can carve your own Robin lantern�� Dick encouraged, practically vibrating with excitement. Damian wondered what on earth he did to deserve such blinding sunshine as his adoptive sibling. “...and I’m sure Alfred will find a convenient way to make use of the pumpkins.”the last words seemed to have done the trick to convince the younger boy.

Damian considered the options carefully for a solid minute. He knew better than ignoring Richard wouldn’t get him anywhere. He wouldn’t leave it alone. Sigh. If it meant he could help Pennyworth baking a pumpkin spice pie with ginger-snag crust...

“Lead the way, Grayson.” Damian sighed resignedly.

Dick squealed in joy, bouncing to his feet and wrapping his arms around Damian’s neck.

It was just pumpkin carving what exactly could go wrong. Right?

~~~

Less than two hours later Jason Todd walked into the kitchen of the Wayne manor, initially looking for a cup of peppermint tea as the Gotham chilly autumn winds were making him crave a hot beverage.

“Would anyone care to explain why is there a whole fucking pumpkin patch on the kitchen table?” Jason muttered audibly, mouth opened in stupefaction. What in the name of Halloweentown....Where did all these pumpkins come from?

“Language, Jay.” Dick scolded him glancing up at him over a pile of massive mutant pumpkins with a provoking grin.

“I grew up in the Narrows. I’m allowed to swear.” Jason rolled his eyes in reply as he tried to avoid stepping on the pumpkins, accidentally squashing them, they were scattered on the floor, table, those fucking things were everywhere. “Dickie, are you going to explain?”

“These are from Roy.” Richard gestured the numerous orange bulbs with his right hand. “I think he got these from some illegal smuggling bust. I didn’t really ask a lot of questions. I just accepted them because I thought it’d be fun to try carving Batman lanterns with little D.”

It took Jason less than two minutes to process the information. Why was the golden boy not bothered by this?

“You mean these are contraband pumpkins.” He remarked skeptically, green-blue eyes widening still rather incredulous.

Dick simply shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d have a problem.”

Right. Only if Bruce found out about the origin of the contraband pumpkins. Then he’d be blamed for being the bad influence and his merry band of disreputable friends. He groaned as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

“And where is the demon spawn. I don’t seem him anywhere.” He questioned narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side the slightest. He had to be close to Dick, but the kitchen was alarmingly too quiet. Too quiet for his liking. This meant trouble.

Tim didn’t try too hard not to flinch as a knife flashed dangerously close to his face and flied past Jason. “This is the third time in the last hour. I’m starting to think it’s personal.” Tim spoke calmly with a sarcastic tone as he continued sipping his black coffee expressionless as usual. Getting knifed by the little demon spawn before Halloween would hav been the cherry on top of the misfortune cake.

Jason was genuinely concerned and wondered how many cups of coffee Tim has had today. Hopefully not over five.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be already in a casket.” Jason pointed out. It was no secret Damian’s strong aversion towards replacement, but he didn’t wish the shortstack dead.

Tim just shrugged his shoulders casually. “Well, I suppose we always could use your old one.” Fuck that. He took it back.

“Low blow, replacement.” Jason feigned hurt putting a hand to his chest right above his heart in a offended manner.

“It’s juts not cooperating.” The young kid voiced his frustration and discontentment . Leaving the kitchen knife he used on the table. Tt. He was trained and raised for excellence and he couldn’t carve flawlessly a stupid pumpkin. Mother would be entirely displeased.

“Requires time and practice, Dami.” Dick whispered softly with a warm smile, running his hand up and down the preteen’s back.

“I don’t know D, to me it looks like you’re slaughtering it mercilessly.” Jason joked with a wolflike smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Head moving in different angles trying to find a figure or face in the pumpkin Damian had been carving. “Unless you were thinking of the Joker, If so then you have my seal of approval.” The little demon spawn was never the most pleasant person to be around but deep,very deep down maybe Jason had a soft spot for him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. Never.

“Do us a favor and keep your mouth shut, Todd.” Damian barked, glaring daggers at him.

“I never did Halloween with my parents.” The words escaped Tim’s mouth before his brilliant brain registered the order. The pain wasn’t there anymore. No. There were charity Galas, social events for wealthy socialites, last minute journeys for significant discoveries. Because people often assumed there will be plenty of time later. Tim didn’t want Damian to live for the later.

“I remember trading a cheap wristwatch for expired candy once. Not a great deal.” Jason muttered nonchalantly, giving it unimportance. Tone flat and factual. His memories from the narrows weren’t memorable for being happy or enjoyable but he had what he managed to obtain and he did what was necessary in order to survive. Nothing to be ashamed of.

“There’s always a first, Timbo.” Dick placed sympathetically a hand on Tim’s shoulder in a comforting way. Tim smiled softly back. Well, perhaps this pumpkin carving experience could be fun.

~~~

“This is the grossest thing I’ve ever done.” Tim announced, scooping a handful of pumpkin guts out of his pumpkin and examining them distastefully. “Seriously. I’ve done some pretty gross things, but this takes the cake.”

Jason flicked playfully a few pumpkin seeds at him and Tim moved fast enough to evade almost all of them. “Don’t be such a crybaby, replacement.” He has been playing with the large pumpkin, stabbing it numerous times picturing the joker’s fAce.

“Look at the gremlin, he’s been doing it for like two hours. What if he’s developed an addiction?” Jason mumbled slightly concerned and half-joking to Tim.

Damian pulled the pumpkin impossibly closer to him, practically cradling the thing in his lap. His mind completely absorbed in the task of carving the perfect pumpkin. His back was pressed to the cupboards behind him, a series of knives and napkins scattered at his sides. He looked focused, impossibly focused, like there could never be a more important thing for him to pour his energy into. Because Damian Wayne even if he didn’t admit it was obsessed with maintaining perfection. Failure was not a word he accepted.

Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m fairly sure no one has ever got addicted to pumpkin carving and I can hear you, mindless fools.”

"Any behavior can become compulsive.” Tim supplied absently, eyes fixed on the small pumpkin in front of him.

Dick paused briefly from working on his Nightwing lantern to just observe Damian, not even trying to hide the smile on his lips.

Dick and Jason quietly exchange discreet glances. Quickly they picked a few pumpkin seeds out of the bowl that resided in the scented of the kitchen table, flicking them over towards Damian who squawked and tried unsuccessfully, to duck. Due to being too focused on the task assigned. “Will you stop distracting me? I have a masterpiece to finish!”

“A masterpiece?” Jason asked teasingly, glancing pointedly at his Batman lantern.

“Yes. A masterpiece, Todd.” Damian exhaled exasperated. What did anyone have to do to carve a mere pumpkin in peace?

“Come on, little D. It’s time to have some fun!” Jason threw a handful of pulpy flesh at his face. Oh. This would be seen as a declaration of war. Quickly, Damian grabbed a portion of pumpkin and aimed for Jason’s leather jacket. ‘NOT MY JACKET’ several minutes later, Drake was covered in the orange flesh from head to toes. He was in urgent need of a bath. Grayson was smart enough to grasp a breakfast tray and use it as a shield, however it didn’t work for long. Damian and Tim teamed up to caught him on the top with a surprise attack, Drake sneaking behind his back. Needless to say the kitchen was in shambles at this point. Good thing Pennyworth has been busy the whole day reorganizing the library.

“What’s all this mess in my kitchen?! Master Richard I demand a proper explanation!” A very agitated British voice came from the doorframe. Alfred very upset, furrowing his grey brows appeared looking utterly baffled by the chaos.

Oops.

“Fuck me” Jason and Richard grumbled in unison from the floor covered in pumpkin pulp. Soon they broke out in bowls of laughter all four of them. Damian genuinely laughed at his heart’s content with the innocence of a normal child. His family may have been unstable and insane, but canned if they weren’t entertaining and the best part of his new life.

Some mandatory batbros bonding October prompt 🎃 🙈🙈🙈❤️💜💜

Also I’m celebrating 1.8K followers. Thank you so much for your support and reading my stories. I appreciate it 🥺🥺

Edited here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891536

@sofiii @chromium7sky @deep-in-mind67

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