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dreamersparacosm · 2 years

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austin butler - insecure

warnings ; cursing, angst, a lil kiss kiss but pretty tame if u ask me

request ; anonymous’ ask linked here

prompt ; in which running into your first love causes austin to reveal his insecurities.

a/n ; this was supposed to be published last night but i ended up making plans so i apologize bout that! thanks to the efc gc for choosing henry cavill to play reader’s ex boyfriend (he is one fine man) if that doesn’t suit your fancy, you can imagine anyone else in the role! enjoy :)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

austin butler hadn’t liked new york before you.

he had been shattered for quite a long time, more than he liked to admit. he had been heartbroken over a brutal breakup with his last girlfriend, and he swore in that moment that he would never try to find love in hollywood again. he never thought he would meet someone even close to what she was. but, then, he met you. you were soft, caring, but also outspoken. he loved that you fought for what you believed in, and that you had big dreams that always ended up manifesting. he was intrigued by your acting style, and the way you commanded the cameras. austin fell irrevocably in love with you, but it took you a little while longer with him. you had met just before he left for australia to film elvis during a red carpet event, where he had walked up to you drunkenly and asked for your number. most of the beginning of your courtship was spent over facetime dates and promises to go see each other, until finally, he booked you a plane ticket before you could say no.

there was nothing stopping the landslide of emotions that onset the way you felt about him. you let yourself succumb to your feelings, and he made sure to protect your heart. you had your own trauma from previous relationships, and you appreciated all austin did to recognize that and respect you.

even now, in new york city, austin was willing to bend over backwards for you. he always followed the unspoken sidewalk rule, and tried to fend off paparazzi as much as possible. you two were staying in a luxurious hotel for two months, hoping to savor some alone time before he had to pack up and leave to film dune 2. you appreciated the vacation, since elvis' promotion drove you two crazy. you also knew that once he left, you would fall into a depressive state. long distance was never an issue for you two, which was refreshing to see in hollywood nowadays. however, it didn't mean that saying your goodbyes in the airport hurt any less.

you two walked alongside the piers adjacent to the hudson river, enjoying the sun as it beamed on your faces. it was a gorgeous summer day, and although you hated stepping out in public sometimes, austin made it worth your while. his hand was intertwined with yours, sometimes bringing it up to his lips to press a light kiss to them. even after a year and a half of dating, he still managed to make you feel like a princess.

“you know, i think new york is starting to grow on me,” he spoke, looking over at you and the way the sun illuminated your eyes. he, however, did not appreciate the glow on his face and pushed his sunglasses higher up on his nose.

“aw, i’m glad, baby,” you smiled at him. “i wouldn’t mind moving back here after my career dies down.”

“you think?” he paused in between his words, as if he were pondering an important question. his thumb ran over your fingers, caressing them softly, “i mean, i wouldn’t be opposed to a nice penthouse. maybe a dog or somethin’.”

“i’d like a dog,” you mused, grinning at the thought. comfortable silence crept in between you two, the sound of birds chirping filling the air. your aimless thinking led you to fall into a daydream, and austin could tell. “would you wanna actually live here one day? with me, possibly?”

he was surprised by your question, taken aback for only a few seconds before mulling over your inquiry. the truth is, he would follow you anywhere you went. he hadn’t felt this way about somebody in years, and it terrified him that he felt a gravitation towards you like no other. he had never thought about marriage or kids before, but with you, he wanted the whole damn thing. “i would, baby. i would follow you wherever you wanted to be.”

you couldn’t help the beaming smile that crept up on your face. he loved seeing you radiant like that, the star in his sky of what was once before his never-ending darkness. you had many relationships in hollywood, some of them good and some of them bad, but never like this. it was comforting to be loved by someone who made every moment feel like a fairytale. you continued to walk alongside the pier, making conversations over what-ifs and pondering over what you two should eat for dinner. it was the mundane things that you two enjoyed the most; the moments meant for only you and him.

“[y/n]?”

a familiar voice rang out behind you. a voice you hadn’t heard in years. a voice that had daunted you for years, seeping into your nightmares and taunting you. a voice you had tried to push out of your memory. you felt your blood turn cold, palms becoming sweaty and eardrums ringing. you whipped around to confirm your worst suspicions.

your ex-boyfriend and first love, henry cavill.

people often talk about what it’s like to see the person you fell in love with ages ago. it’s supposed to be heartbreaking, it’s supposed to hurt. it’s supposed to take you back to the days where you used to run freely with them, openly claiming them as yours. but, what do you do when the man you’re currently in love with is right beside you, holding your hand? your heartbeat rapidly thumped in your chest, and without realizing, you had let go of austin’s hand.

austin looked down at your separated hands, his mind reeling in confusion. he knew of your exes, fairly well he would say. he had failed to remember what henry looked like. he knew that he was a successful actor as well, but standing in front of him, he felt tiny. austin thought of himself as much lesser; a downgrade. he wasn’t used to the feeling, and it made his heart ache at the thought that maybe you felt the same way.

“henry?” you finally spoke, a forced smile creeping up on your face. “how are you? it’s been so long!”

“yeah, yeah, it has. i’m good, just in new york for a photoshoot,” his eyes pierced into yours the way they had many moons ago. “you look great, by the way,” austin watched, feeling as though he had faded into the background.

“yeah, so do you,” you gulped nervously, twiddling your fingers. he did look great. it was painful to say and hurtful to think. you didn’t regret leaving him at all, that was not the issue. it was the fact that he was standing right in front of you after you prayed to god for the past five years you would never see him again. austin stepped towards you, hoping for some form of an introduction. awkward silence filled the air as you were consumed with your own thoughts and emotions.

austin had never seen you act this way towards anybody. you usually always had something to say. he shifted uncomfortably again beside you, and you finally slipped out of your trance. “oh, this is my boyfriend, austin, by the way.”

“nice to meet you, man. henry,” he reached his hand out as a form of a peace treaty, and austin shook it reluctantly. austin felt as if he couldn’t break the eye contact that was being held between you two, even though he wanted to so desperately.

“we should catch up sometime, [y/n]. get coffee or something,” henry’s eyes hadn’t left yours for a second. you felt paralyzed in your spot. “i’m here until next tuesday, if you’d want to do something before then.”

words were being formulated in your brain, but the lag of your voice followed. “yeah, i’d have to see when i’m free, i have a few photoshoots to do next week but i can let you know.”

all you knew was that you could not meet up with him. but, being the cool, calm, and collected ex-girlfriend had been your brand for years, so you went along with the act. “that’s cool,” henry nodded, beginning to plan his exit. he could feel austin’s eyes penetrating holes into his skull. “well, i’ll let you get back to it. super good to see you, though.”

“of course, you too, henry,” you smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. although it was a small interaction, it was enough to shake you up. you almost looked behind you as henry walked away, but you forbid yourself from doing that. austin, on the other hand, had never felt more small in his life. he was used to being a background character in your successful career, but he didn’t mind it. when he came face to face with it, he realized that maybe he wasn’t as stone cold as he once perceived.

you two began to stroll again, this time, in complete and utter silence. he didn't reach out to hold your hand, and so you stuffed them into the front of your shorts pockets.

austin was seeing red. his insecurities had now manifested into sheer anger. he hadn’t seen you look at anyone like that before… except for him. he began to wonder how long you were planning on dating him before you told him you were still in love with your ex. you knew the energy between you two had shifted, but you couldn’t even begin to process his emotions before starting with your own.

the twenty minute walk back to the hotel was treacherous. you exchanged small talk on how neither of you were hungry anymore, and that maybe it was better to just order room service later. austin thought he would never eat again. you hoped that maybe austin would ask if you were okay, and let you explain why you felt the way you did, that it wasn’t that easy to see him still. he was your first love, after all. the person who had shown you the ropes of hollywood, the way to properly love someone, and to accept the things you cannot change.

instead, austin spent the rest of the night ignoring your emotions and focusing on his own. neither of you had eaten.

you had showered, laid your clothes out for the next day, all while exchanging a total of four words with austin. he was already tucked into bed, laying there with his eyes closed. he knew he wasn’t sleeping that night. however, he wanted to give off the illusion that he was fine, that he would be able to have a good night’s sleep after watching you become beside yourself in front of your ex-boyfriend. you crawled under the covers beside him, sitting upright. thoughts couldn’t stop entering your brain. it was on overdrive; austin, henry, austin, henry. it was a vicious cycle, one that almost made you feel sick to your stomach.

you knew he wasn’t sleeping. so, you decided to be the bigger person, because you would be damned if you lost austin over a man that had broken your heart ages ago.

“so… are we gonna talk about this, or are we just gonna pretend everything’s fine?” you spoke just above a whisper. you didn’t have to speak too loud, with the knowledge that he was nowhere near having a peaceful rest.

he wiggled around in the bed, still facing away from you, “i don’t know, [y/n].”

his answer did not satisfy you. you sighed, inhaling a deep breath. it was clearly going to be difficult to get any sort of real answer out of him. “listen, i know today couldn’t have been easy. and, i’m sorry-“

“we don’t have to do this right now,” austin cut you off.

“so, when would you prefer we do this?” you crossed your arms over your chest. luckily, he couldn’t see your eyes that had nearly rolled into the back of your head.

“like i said, i don’t know, [y/n],” he mumbled almost incoherently.

you let out a snort, shaking your head in disbelief. “are you really going to be immature right now? is this how you want to play it?”

that set him off, like a ticking time bomb waiting for its fuse to be lit. he rolled over in the bed to face you, his eyes black with rage. “i’m immature? are you fucking serious?”

“yes, because i’m trying to talk to you. you’re clearly upset over-“

he sat up hastily, his face at eyes length with yours. “no, no. i’m not upset. i’m fucking pissed. do you not see why i’m maybe angry?” he couldn’t even help himself. he saw the look in your eyes and knew better, he should’ve stopped himself but he couldn’t. he had to twist the knife into your back the way he felt you had done to him. “how would you feel if we saw vanessa on the street and i just started eye-fucking her and making plans for next week?”

your mouth gaped open slightly in shock at his words. “i was not eye-fucking him! i didn’t even say yes to his plans, i told him i would have to check my schedule. i wasn’t even thinking about going, i just said that!”

“you fucking let go of my hand, [y/n]. in front of him. do you know how that made me feel?” he shook his head in disgust. he still felt as small as he did standing on that pier earlier. “you didn’t even want to introduce me, i had to stand there like a dumbass waiting for you to say, ‘oh yeah, this is my boyfriend by the way.’”

“okay, i’ll admit that i forgot to introduce you,” you tried to compromise, knowing that if you didn’t, the two of you would start screaming at each other. “but it wasn’t even like that, austin. i haven’t seen him in years. last time i saw him, i wasn’t even the same person i am now. he was my first love, what do you expect?!”

“i’d expect you to do fucking better,” he seethed. he got up from the bed, trying to distance himself from you as much as possible. facing you, his tone became accusatory, “i wouldn’t expect you to stand there like a bitch in heat and forget that i was standing right there.”

if he was trying to start a fight, he was right on the target. his words had stabbed you right in the back, twisting the knife in further and further until it was so far gone it couldn’t be pulled out. “just admit that you’re fucking insecure, austin. just say it, because that’s what this is about. you can’t handle that maybe i have an ex that might still be interested!”

“no, it’s because you acted like you didn’t give a fuck if i was there or not!” his voice raised several octaves, nearing a yell.

you pushed yourself to your knees on the bed so that you could reach his height, wanting to feel taller in the situation that was now making you feel tiny. “how are you gonna tell me how i feel? am i not allowed to have emotions after seeing a person i shared my first everything with? i lost my virginity to him, and you think that just goes away? it doesn’t!”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “oh, please. don’t give me that. i wouldn’t do that to you in front of vanessa. ever. i have always claimed you so openly, and i would never have let go of your fucking hand in front of her!”

“so, that’s what this is about? the hand? god, austin, you sound so insecure right now,” you were just spitting out insult after insult, not caring which ones struck him.

“well, at least i’m not the one still in love with my ex!” he yelled out, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“i’m not in love with him, austin! what the fuck is wrong with you that you can’t see that?” you argued, your arms flailing around in expression.

his face softened, shaking his head to himself. you two weren’t like this. you never argued before, not like this. you had prided yourselves on keeping a healthy relationship. he had promised he would never be like anyone you were with before, but he realized he had turned into that same monster he dreaded. “i saw the way you looked at him. that’s the way you look at me,” he mumbled.

“that’s not true,” you moved towards him. “i swear to god, i was just shocked at seeing him. i-i wasn’t expecting to turn around and see him. i mean, i’ve spent years dodging him.”

austin was silent. he was mulling over his options in this argument. the fear of losing you over his own insecurities was a risk he was not willing to take. he knew this was silly, but he just had to make sure he was making the right choice. and, so he asked, “do you still love him?”

“no,” you breathed out, so fast it almost flew off your tongue. you had never been more sure of something. it was mind boggling that you had seen him, but seeing henry earlier didn’t make you feel the way you felt when you saw austin coming down the street, or the way it felt when austin pressed his lips against yours. “no, not at all. i’m so in love with you. i’m not even kidding, the way i feel about you has never compared to anybody.”

he knew you were being real. austin didn’t want to let it come between you two; in fact, he refused. “fuck, [y/n]. am i being an idiot?”

“no, no,” you rushed off the bed, going over to where he stood. you cupped his cheeks in your hand, forcing him to finally meet your apologetic gaze. “i feel so dumb, austin. i shouldn’t have reacted like that, letting go of your hand. i was just really shocked, and scared. i never thought i was going to see him again, especially not with someone like you.”

he felt at home looking into your eyes. his hand reached up to meet yours on his cheek, rubbing his finger over it lovingly. “i just got so insecure, [y/n]. i’m so sorry, i should’ve asked how you were feeling. i know that wasn’t easy.”

“it’s okay,” you smiled lightly. “next time, i’ll be honest with you if you’re honest with me. i don’t want to lose you, baby.”

the last part made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. it was relieving to know the feelings were reciprocated. “me either. and i know you love me, i just felt so small in that moment. but, i’ll do better, i swear,” he ran a finger over your cheek, staring into your bright eyes. he had missed the sparkle, even if it were a few hours that he had gone without it.

“i do love you,” you inched towards him, wanting to feel a little closer to the man you loved the most. “too much for my own good sometimes.”

he finally let a smile appear on his face, his lips curling up. he couldn’t help but glance down at your plump pink lips, moist with the vaseline you had put on them before attempting to go to bed earlier. he felt closer to you than ever, and he wanted nothing more than to indulge himself and kiss you. you wanted that as well; scratch that, you craved it. you pulled him towards you by the nape of his neck, his right hand reaching to cradle your cheek. his lips moved against yours passionately, a warm fire bursting through your chest. your hands traveled down his broad shoulders, feeling him to bring you even closer towards you. it felt as if it was your first kiss with him all over again; slow and burning with desire. he pulled away, breathless, resting his forehead against yours, “i want this to be forever. i’m serious, [y/n]. i’ve never met anyone like you.”

you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before a toothy grin appeared on your face, “me too, baby. forever and always.”

now, he loved new york city more than he could have ever imagined.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#austin butler #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler smut #henry cavill

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fromasgardandback · 2 years

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The Dungeon Master and the Theater Nerd

Eddie Munson x Reader

description: Eddie meets a girl who’s in the theater club while setting up for hellfire.

word count: 1.1k

warning: none, pure fluff

a/n: did i write this because i’m a theater nerd and would’ve loved to have someone like eddie? yes.

masterlist | oneshots

Y/N was a senior at Hawkins High and the star pupil of the Drama Club. She was a very talented actor and aspired to go on to be one of the best actors of her time. But growing up in Hawkins didn’t show her what she could really do with her life other than being a caddy housewife to an unloving husband. She knew that this was not something she dreamed of, yet that’s where her life was headed. Ever since she was young she was different than her friends. While being different from the others in town, she was left out of a lot. It was easy for her to fall into being someone different for the night. She spent all her time outside of school devoted to the Drama Club and everything that had to do with acting. Her parents were the opposite of the romantic love stories she read in books and plays. So when the opportunity showed itself to be away from them, she took it.

This night was not any different. There was a week before the school’s opening of the play and Y/N was still working on set designs. Friday nights were also the nights that the Hellfire Club would meet backstage in the auditorium where the storage was. Eddie was in there alone setting up for the campaign when Y/N walked in.

“Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your game. Just wanted to get a few items.” She said, blushing slightly seeing her crush look this good in the low-dimmed lighting of the room. Eddie slowly looked up, hearing a soft female voice.

“Uh. I-it’s alright. Get what you need, you’re not bothering me.” He offered a gentle smile. She nodded awkwardly, walking past him to get the items. There was a few moments of silence before he looked over and spoke.

“Uh, so how's the play going?” Eddie mentally smacked himself upside the head.

“It’s going good. Just trying to finish the sets. Hopefully, by early next week, they will all be off-book, then we can really dig deep into the acting.” She smiled at him. “How’re your campaigns going?” She said standing up.

“They’re good. Didn’t realize you knew anything about D & D.” He leaned against the table.

“I’ve seen and heard my cousins play it. It sounds really fun and it's fantasy, maybe one day I’ll bribe you into teaching me?” She chuckled. Little did she know that he would love that. He has been trying to find a common ground to even speak to her.

“You don’t need to bribe me, but I won’t be opposed.” He slyly smirked, earning a giggle from her.

Eddie’s campaign went on while she went to work on the backdrop. She paused her music taking a break. She could hear them laughing and yelling at each other. Y/N smiled to herself finding it adorable, only to imagine what Eddie looked like at that moment. She’d be lying if she said she wished to be sitting outside the room to hear them clearly. She knew Eddie since they were in kindergarten. He was always kind and loving, but something about him just made him stand out. Then in middle school, he became more interested in different music, games, fantasy, etc. Y/N liked those things too but liked to keep that part of herself to only a few people. Not that she didn’t want to be outcasted, cause she already was, just that she wasn’t as into it as Eddie was. Y/N admired Eddie for being different and loved everything about him. Her crush truly started when they were kids and it just kept growing.

Their campaign ended for the night and while Eddie was packing up he could still hear Y/N’s music in the background. He walked around to see her moving some heavy boxes on the stage.

“Y/N!” Someone called her name. She turned around to see Eddie running towards her. “Hey, let me help you with those.” He took the boxes out of her hands, walking back into the auditorium with him.

“I didn’t think you were still here. Thought your game ended a while ago.” She said leaning against the stage.

“It just ended, but I was cleaning up. Then got an idea to add to the storyline, so lost track of time.” He smiled lightly at her.

“Well, I’m near my curfew, so I should get going.” Y/N frowned a little.

“You driving?” He asked.

“No, walking. Can’t afford a car.” She shrugged.

“Let me give you a ride. It’s late and Hawkins can be creepy at night.” She graciously accepted his offer. Eddie led her to his van, being the gentleman that he is, and opened the door for her. They talked the whole way to her house about their shared interests. Being in theater she loved stories and being in the hellfire club he wrote stories. Their creative brains connected on a deeper level than either of them expected.

“Oh my gosh, I love Star Wars! It’s so cool and George Lucas is a genius in his works. The only thing of his I don’t like is Labyrinth. Puppets freak me out.” She shivered talking about it. Eddie just looked at her and laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s been a fear of mine since I was a child. Muppets, puppets, literally anything Jim Henson freaks me out.” She said hitting his arm.

“Woah, not even the Dark Crystal?” Eddie gasped when her reaction was a no.

They continued talking and laughing, eventually having to end the conversation when he pulled up in front of her home.

“This is me.” She sighed. “Thank you for driving me home. You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t really have a choice. Can’t let a gorgeous girl go missing because I didn’t care.” Eddie smirked. He didn’t realize what he was doing until it happened. Eddie leaned over and gently held the side of her face in his hand. Without thinking, he kissed her. She was surprised but quickly kissed him back. After a few minutes, they pulled away, both faces redder than a tomato.

“Go out with me tomorrow night?” Eddie asked boldly.

“I’d love to.” She kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Eddie.” She wrote her number down on a piece of paper before getting out and walking into the house, waving him goodbye. He loved this newfound confidence and cannot wait until tomorrow night.

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lovely-oh-so-lovelyyui · 2 years

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Hey could you do Richter headcanons the day when he was born and his childhood?

Poets gone mad.

Richters birth was a lovely affair compared to Karls (still a toddler), perhaps the difference was in their mothers. Lady Adaline was a meek woman who rarely liked involving herself in court affairs as opposed to Lady Inga who was a formidable opponent as the only ducal princess of the vampires.

She was the only child of the baron, and she spent her days making flower bouquets, sewing, and singing. It was her musical talents that caught the king’s eyes, with her dark mossy tresses with braided gold beads throughout and her twinkling sage eyes humming to herself as the harp player changed tunes.

He had asked her for a dance and it wasn’t long till they were wed, it was also no secret the demure lady had made a rather comfortable place in the king’s heart.

So you can only imagine her joy when the imperial doctor told her she would soon have twins, and the king’s joy overflowed. It was an occasion to celebrate. Arguably one of the largest banquets was thrown for her baby shower.

He was right by her side through her delivery when the twins were finally born. Richter and Reina.

It was a cool night where the birds chirped and the breeze was playful.

Reina means queen of the night, after all the baby was her sire’s carbon copy. With thick dark eyebrows and long lashes, crimson eyes and pale as ivory only inheriting her mother’s curls, that too in a darker shade of green. She was her father’s darling, he bought trinkets from every empire for her and cherished everything his daughter did from yanking his dark hair to haughtily giggling at her brother. She was a true blue blood.

Richter on the other hand was the calmer twin, his name meaning the judge. A steadfast and composed presence, it was rare to see him react to much aside from his mother or sister. He on the other hand resembled their mother far more, with thin eyebrows, high cheekbones and full lips with identical mossy hair that stayed in a ponytail. He wished to grow strong like his father, envious of his father’s and brother’s regal posture compared to his lankier stature.

Hidden from the public eye the twins had a far less strenuous childhood compared to most of their siblings, they resided in a villa hidden by the woodland and the large waterfall, rumoured to be one of the most guarded estates.

They spent their childhood reading from the vast libraries of classics and militia coups staining the copies with sticky hands from the cherry pie they had stolen from the kitchens, chasing each other through the woods then jumping in the waters as it rained down on them, adopting whatever wildlife caught their interest, as well as developing skills in the art of warfare only to return home to their mother all grimy and muddy for warm dinners and idyllic evenings stargazing or watching the sunrise.

Now Richter was a poet at heart taking his mother’s artistic talents. It was his writing and dramatic flair that stood out the most, even the short stories and poems and epics he formed for dinner times stunned his mother and sister as well as his father when he chose to join them.

The twins were attached at the hip quiet affection under barbed taunts, however, both doted on their mother, bless her. Whether it be Reina’s talent for political debates or judicial interests or Richters fanatic stories and stunning plays they were popular throughout the noble society as the twins who were so perfectly balanced as a whole.

It was a drastic change when his mother and sister were murdered, as predicted the king’s interest was short-lived in lady Adaline finding another skirt to chase. This left his mother heartbroken, in an effort to stay in his affections she nearly starved herself to death and his sister, unable to watch, left their home for the capital. Among the chaotic conflict in a race for the throne, one of their siblings had sent an assassin after her and his sister’s body was delivered to him a couple of months later. His mother took her life grieving her daughter.

All changed after that their estate no longer seemed warm, the shadows followed the young boy around. He spent a year grieving, his hair grew long past his shoulders and his regal cheekbones soon looked gaunt, his poems wept with him, purple hues made a home under his eyes. Once he was the tallest of his siblings at 6’0 (at just 13) with his head held high now he slouched as he walked, his lips pressed tight as if to keep inside the weeping sorrow that dared to spill out.

By the time it came for his debutante into high society he was a shell of his former self, his brilliance had turned to rage and anguish, and his once delicate hands that formed art had become bruised and calloused from the hours he spent training with better aim than anyone his arrows piercing stags from miles away, there were tales Artemis had taken a liking to him that how polished his skills had become.

This did not sway many women however his mysterious allure and solemn looks did little to hide how fine of a man he was; after all memories only last so long but penmanship is immortal. The way he wrote of women.

Inspired by his meek yet wonderful mother, or his headstrong yet graceful sister, Richter caused the ladies to frenzy to see a man to saw women as more than trophies but as something cherishable.

He was at his peak siding with Karl when the fight for the throne came to climax, to avenge his sister of course. Coming back victorious battle after battle, his calm head and compassion for his soldiers were well known, aside from his title as a prince he was even gifted the duchy of the eastern ports where everyone knew the trade was most successful.

Not to mention his looks, I mean Karl was dazzling. But darling Richter was a sight to see, he kept growing in height nearly 6’7 with his thick locks held up by the finest silks. His lean figure did little to hide his broad shoulders and well-built figure. His face was sculpted and his teasing smirks or if you were lucky his gentle smile was enough to send you into a frenzy.

Then he met Cordelia, Cordelia who came with the foreign advisors, who came in the finest silks of black and green and gold. Who danced and danced till she tired, who bit back with twice as much force when someone dared question her.

She followed him around demanding things as his brother kept blowing her off, eventually, she became more than the silly girl who befuddled and flustered him to no end betrothed to his brother, the one who wanted to hear more about his mother and claimed she would’ve befriended his sister, Cordelia who snuck out with him to dance under the stars.

She was his muse, and perhaps that’s what finally caused the poets to go mad.

#diabolik lovers #diahell #yui komori #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #shu sakamaki #diabolik lovers headcanon #sakamaki richter #richter sakamaki #backstory #dl #diabolik lovers fanfiction

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voraciousvore · 6 months

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Boarding School for Giants (9/25)

------ Chapter 9 ------

Mr. Henderson dropped me off at the human dormitory and left. The sun was spent, swathing the campus in the velvety darkness of night. Towering streetlamps provided sparks of light to weakly illuminate the sidewalks in a soft glow. Insects that presented as nothing more than sentient white specks floated around the lights. Crickets chirped enthusiastically, providing a soothing ambience.

The night was calm, but inside I was churning with desperate turmoil. Fate must be playing some sort of cruel trick on me. If I had any doubts that my mother didn’t want me anymore, they had been cast aside. I just couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept it. My life was falling apart before my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I could make it through another day here, alone, much less an entire year of school and beyond. I felt as if I were imprisoned within my own personal twisted version of purgatory, atoning for my past wrongs. Sighing heavily, I went inside and prepared for my day tomorrow.

At least tomorrow was Friday. I just had to get through one day of school and then I’d have the weekend to cool off. A whole weekend of hiding out in this building, praying that nobody would open the roof and torment me or steal me away. Ugh. I’d have to find a secret place somewhere else on campus to hide out, some place where only a human could fit and no giants would find me. It would also be advantageous to have a spot to hide within the dormitory. Scanning my surroundings, I checked the cabinet beneath the sink. The small compartment underneath wasn’t the most comfortable, but I could fit inside if necessary. I made a mental note to remember the cramped space if I got in a pinch.

Next, I looked over my class schedule for tomorrow. The school worked off an alternating schedule, with six total class periods, three per day. Friday, the odd day out, rotated on a weekly basis. This week’s Friday consisted of periods four through six. Since I didn’t have PE, my sixth period was an empty slot, meaning I just had to get through two classes, history and chemistry, and then I could leave. I could manage that, hopefully. Being optimistic wasn’t in my nature, but I made an exception in this case. I couldn’t allow myself to imagine all the horrible ways that my day could go wrong, or else I’d have another mental breakdown. Trying to drown out all the troubled thoughts rattling around in my brain, I went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, my legs were very sore. My muscles had been worked a lot more than usual traversing the giant campus, and I had never biked so much in my life. I groaned and stretched and rolled out of bed. After I got dressed and was all ready to go, I collected up the textbooks I would need into my backpack and stepped outside, after checking that the coast was clear. I hopped on my bike and began the long journey to the giant school.

I considered myself lucky that I actually enjoyed biking, because otherwise I would have been even more miserable than I already was. I just wished my legs weren’t hurting as much as they were. Since I had left early, there weren’t too many giants out and about yet. They were fortunate enough to be able to stumble out of bed and take a few steps to get to school, as opposed to biking a marathon like me. I was very skittish, giving everyone I saw a wide berth, especially after my little accident yesterday where I had scraped my knees.

I eventually succeeded in my quest to reach the cafeteria, which had opened for breakfast only a few minutes earlier. My food wasn’t there, so I waited around nervously. After my terrible interaction with that one student in the cafeteria, I was on high alert, fearful of any eyes that may wander my way. Right now, most of the students filing in were waiting in line for their breakfast, so nobody was looking at me. Distracted, I didn’t notice the lunch lady who stepped around the counter with my breakfast until she was practically right on top of me.

“Excuse me, dear,” the plump elderly women announced her presence, kneeling over me. I squeaked in surprise and jumped back about five feet. “Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here’s your breakfast sweetie.” She held out a small brown paper bag pinched between two gloved fingers, being careful not to smash the contents.

“T-thanks,” I managed to respond. I took the bag from her fingers and looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Also, I apologize for not having your meals ready for you on your first day. There was a miscommunication, and nobody told us there was a human attending the school,” she explained to me, smiling kindly. “If anything like that happens again, don’t be afraid to come talk to one of us in the kitchen, alright?”

“Okay,” I uttered, barely above a whisper. She returned to her full height and walked off, and I stood there holding the bag, stunned that somebody had actually been nice to me. I opened the bag, revealing a tasty-looking breakfast burrito, a cup of chopped fruit, and a carton of chocolate milk. I marveled at the thought that giant hands had been able to meticulously craft my tiny human meal. The sentiment was kind of sweet, considering the staff could have just cut up some giant food and sloppily thrown something together, rather than carefully wrapping up a mini burrito.

I was about to sit down and partake in my repast, but I noticed some giant students shooting subtle glances my way. I didn’t want any attention or trouble, so I exited the cafeteria to find a more secluded spot to eat. I decided to go to the library. I snuck inside and parked my bike just inside the door where it wouldn’t get kicked or stepped on. I walked over to one of the human-sized tables and made myself comfortable, taking a big satisfying bite out of the breakfast burrito.

A giant pair of black high-heeled shoes clicked down loudly next to me. I looked up with my cheeks puffed full of food. My eyes traced a sleek pair of feminine legs wrapped in a tight pencil skirt, topped with a white blouse, up to a stern face with glasses. I could only assume she was the librarian. I swallowed and nearly choked.

The giantess aggressively cleared her throat. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked angrily. I was at a loss for words and stared up at her blankly. She pointed at a sign on the wall, miles above my head where I had completely missed it. “No food or drink allowed,” she recited, glaring down at me.

“S-sorry,” I stuttered in apology, avoiding eye contact and grabbing my things. I scurried out in a rush, taking my bike with me. Although I didn’t want to eat my breakfast in the bathroom, I couldn’t think of any other place to go where I would reliably be left alone. Sighing, I crept into the human bathroom and finished my meal in solitude. The whole morning had been quite jarring. One moment somebody was being nice to me, handing me a custom meal, and the next somebody was yelling at me to get out. The latter confrontation left me consumed by anxiety, and I hadn’t even started my first class of the day yet.

Reminded of class, I realized it would be in my best interest to get there early, before the hazardous flood of giant students rushing to their respective classrooms. I left the bathroom and biked to my next class without incident, dodging feet as I went. Not surprisingly, I was the first in the room, and I took advantage of that fact by taking my time setting my bike in the rack, climbing the stairs, and picking out the optimal place to sit. I pulled my class materials out of my bag and waited.

Soon enough the teacher strolled in. He was an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard and thick bifocal glasses. He wore a tan suit with a muted plaid print design, a brown bowtie, and brown loafers. He presented exactly as I imagined a history teacher should appear, dusty and faded. He didn’t notice me at all, and started writing on the chalkboard at the front of the class. Giant students began filtering in. A few of them glanced over at me and my stomach cramped up with discomfort. Was it just my imagination, or were more of the giants becoming aware of my existence? I had almost preferred to be invisible. I was scared that the increased attention would cause more problems for me.

I supposed, at a school like this with relatively few students (I couldn’t exactly refer to it as a “small” school, now could I?), where everybody lived on campus and knew each other, word would get around quickly. I was sure the expulsion of a student for consuming another student would be a hot topic for gossip. How could such a crazy concept not make the rounds? I didn’t like the idea that everybody already knew about my humiliating, traumatic experience, that being small enough to fit inside someone’s stomach would be my defining characteristic before they even got to know me. Just being reminded of the incident made me sick and agitated. I started to feel like I was falling into an endless abyss, panic welling up within me, until the sound of the bell snapped me out of my trance.

“Ok, class. Today we’ll be discussing the topic of human slavery in giant society. Please open your textbooks to chapter six,” the giant teacher announced. Did I hear him correctly? I obeyed and flipped open my textbook to the correct chapter. A grisly image of humans muzzled and chained up in a giant hand greeted my eyes. My blood ran cold. I turned the page to expose more images of humans constrained with black leather harnesses, working under the supervision of giant slavedrivers. There were pictures suggesting torture, and humans being cooked and eaten. My mouth dropped open with horror. I had never heard of such a history from any human textbooks.

“So, the time period we’re discussing now predates the construction of the wall, when humans and giants still lived together in a single society. Clearly, as giants were and still are the physically superior species, humans were delegated to the role of slaves,” the teacher lectured. As the teacher surveyed the class, his eyes finally found me. He stopped, plainly surprised to see a human among the students, and raised an eyebrow. However, he recovered quickly and continued his lecture without a hitch.

“While some humans were put to work in the fields, they were unable to operate farming equipment, due to their miniscule size. Thus, humans were best put to use as domestic servants or personal assistants, and were oftentimes utilized for personal pleasure.” I shuddered hard at this revelation. Just the other day, I had almost been forcibly conscripted for such a nefarious purpose.

“Humans who resisted were sometimes brutally beaten or tortured, but most often were simply eaten,” the teacher continued. “Of course, humans could not provide any effective resistance against giants, so no wide-scale revolts ever materialized.” That fact was hardly surprising to me, considering how powerless I personally was among giants.

“Eventually, economic and social change ushered in a new era of development, and slavery fell out of fashion. A group of giants sympathetic to humankind pushed to end the barbaric practice, and through peaceful political means a law was passed in the legislature banning slavery. Humans were allotted their own land, and the wall was built to keep the two societies separate. In order to foster healthy relations between humans and giants, humans agreed not to teach to future generations the ugly history of slavery, so as not to breed resentment towards giants.”

That last statement explained why I had never heard anything about the subject, or giants in general, and why the two societies remained relatively insulated from each other. I was skeptical of the reasoning, however. I doubted such a sensitive topic could simply be discarded and forgotten. The humans were likely coerced into the agreement, forced to accept the condition in exchange for their freedom. It was history, and in the past, but considering my current circumstances I was nonetheless deeply disturbed.

The teacher droned on for a while, going into detail about specific dates and historical figures. He assigned us a passage in the textbook to read and an essay on the subject. Great, my first homework assignment. Yuck. At long last, the bell rang. I was in no hurry to leave, since braving the halls would be easier once most of the giants cleared out. I took my time gathering up my stuff and plodding down the stairs.

By the time I collected my bike, most of the other students had left. I rolled my bike toward the doorway and was about to get on when a giant brown loafer blocked my path. My heart jumped into my throat. I gazed up at the colossal giant towering above me.

“Hold on,” his voice rumbled like thunder. “I need to speak to you for a moment.” He bent down to be closer to my level, wincing slightly when he put weight on his knee. Even when he was in a crouch, his gargantuan form still loomed over me.

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I won’t be able to read any handwritten assignment you turn in,” he pointed out, adjusting his glasses. I hadn’t thought it through until then, but it dawned on me that he was undeniably right. A paper my size would barely be the size of his fingernail.

“You’ll need to pair up with another student and have them type up your paper and print it for you, alright?” he instructed. I gulped as a heavy blanket of dread smothered me. I didn’t have anyone to help me. I was alone. I was too nervous to protest to the teacher, though.

“Okay,” I agreed in a weak, high-pitched voice.

“Also, as regards the subject matter of today’s class,” he added, “be careful. Human slave trafficking is illegal, but in rare cases it still happens today, in defiance of the law. Don’t let yourself fall into the wrong hands.” He gave me an earnest look.

I could only nod dumbly. The giant stood back up and moved his foot out of the way, allowing me to pass. I hustled out of there as fast as my bike would carry me.

Next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731604787749060608/boarding-school-for-giants-1025?source=share

1st chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731600430392639488/boarding-school-for-giants-125?source=share

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant #tiny #giant tiny #sfw g/t #gt fluff #g/t writing #boarding school for giants #size difference

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krshush · 11 months

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thinking abt Dragon Age instead of playing it. I was in the shower and considering whether or not DA2 is my favorite. But also, several reasons its my favorite also tie into why it's also not the best/most definitive game in the franchise and also is a part of the key differences between it and DA:O+DA:I (and, with all that's being stacked into it, DA:DW most likely)

Because, here's the thing: I really do like that DA2 is just Hawke & Co surviving and dicking around in Kirkwall for several years as tensions mount higher and higher in the citystate's powers that be, as opposed to DA:O and DA:I as they are Mad Dashes to Save the World.

But maybe the best example, the MOST defining way I can put my like for the game that also is an Achilles Heel of its existence is that I fully think Kirkwall is much more sprawling than we ever see in-game via the countless recurring maps and enemies and lines, I fully believe the lives of each party member and relation to Hawke is more varied than we actually get to see, but that we don't see these things is fine to me particularly because I love remembering the framing device: Unlike DA:O and DA:I, we are not playing through a yearish long crisis, we are not playing Hawke's day by day for seven years straight either, we are playing Varric's recounting of the past to Cassandra. And yes, she threatens him for the real account of the Champion's life, not some embellished story like he's penned and peddled already, but Varric is a storyteller, and a good liar too, he knows where the audience needs to focus and where they don't, and it's not like he's gonna remember nor particularly care what every alleyway brawl or coastal cavern adventure looked like, or unpack every single sordid detail of every night for seven years. He knows what Cassandra's asking for, and maybe gives and takes in places she doesn't need nor notice.

...But by using Varric as an excuse at a Watsonian level then excuses BioWare at a Doylist level that is not necessarily my intent in this line of thought either. Because, here's the thing:

I do like Hawke's place in Kirkwall, but also the fact you are stuck playing as a human when part of the appeal in the games is typically playing the other fantasy races is a valid disappointment to have. Wishing they had spent more time fleshing out everything in DA2 is completely fair, even if Hawke was always gonna be the anchor to the story in particular. The fact is the bones of its predecessor are still so Clearly there in a way that a game only quickly spitballed back out the way DA2 was could be. And I don't mean that harshly, but I don't mean it kindly either given its several bugs and the quite small, repetitive maps, strange character choices and and and etc

TL;DR DA2 truly is the blacksheep of the bunch and primarily because of its quick development time, but also I love the pack of weirdos you amass and befriend/berival across in-game years that Hawke & Co aren't spending in Crisis Hero Mode all the time, and I really like that it is Varric's recounting of it all, from the fake start prologue to the thought of how/if he actually knows all of Hawke's romantic endeavors to the way much of the Act 3 banter makes every companion sound more like a character aware of their story than before, and whether or not they actually said those things or if Varric wishes they had (or knows they wished it, maybe)

TL;DR maybe I should just restart DA2 right nyeow but I'm kind of committed to finishing DA:O and THEN doing that at this point. Maybe.

#K.R. shush #long post #sorry but also Tumble's got its own auto-readmore feature I trust your judgement to turn it on or else Scroll Past This Fast #if you do not care abt my regression back into DA #DA Blogging #K.R. can't play DA2

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hoebaring · 2 years

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Sorrowful Love (Two Shot) | Jung Hoseok

"There's no sorrow that lasts forever and there is no love that lasts forever." He says, hands in his pocket looking at the beautiful girl walking beside him. "I say there is" she replies as their eyes meet. "Which one love or sorrow?" "A sorrowful love"

Tags/Warnings :- Angst, heartbreak, mentions of idol!hoseok, breakups, basically emotional PAIN, so y'all please be ready to cry before you start reading it, there might be a part 2, I warned you guys. That's all, ig. Enjoy..? 😆😭

Cross posted on Wattpad

Written by Author A

Word count :- 1.8k Words

Masterlist

CRUSH 'Beautiful' 01:43 ━━━━●───── 4:14 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

CHANYEOL 'Stay With Me' (Ft. Punch) 01:43 ━━━━●───── 4:14 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

****

|| 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 ||

(A/N :- BOLD is the journal)

There's no sorrow that lasts forever and there is no love that lasts forever. He was right after all. She writes down on the last page of her journal. The journal she started solely because of the man who was now the cause of the tears that flow down her face.

With a sigh, she turns to the first page, the start of their love. She had written down in the journal is every moment they spent together with passionate feelings, from the first meet to the last which wasn't long before, just a few hours ago. The end of them. The end of everything.

As she stares at the playful picture attached to the hard bound cover of the book, a pained smile makes its way onto her face. Their first date. At an amusement park. Cliché, but beautiful. The photo was funny to say the least, some ice cream on her nose, eyes widened in shock from the embarrassment she had to face, and him beaming at the camera with a smile that reminded her of the cheerful sun.

Yet now, opposed to the bright feelings that the picture portrays, a tear trickles down her cheek, dramatically staining his face on the polaroid.

She opened the book filled with beautiful and precious memories. She flips through the first few pages of the book, turning to a page that held so much meaning to her. It read 16/06/XXXX, it was their prom day. The day when she had told him about her feelings.

Outside the building from where you could hear loud music with people dancing to the beat, stood a girl adorn in a baby blue gown. The moon light reflected on the small gems present on the gown made her glimmer. She fidgeted with the end of her puffed sleeves as she waited for someone.

Someone who means the whole world to her, whom she could have all sorts of interesting conversations with, someone she had always trusted and someone who she was ready to trust all over again.

A series of hurried footsteps approached her, making her turn.

"Hey, everything okay?" Hoseok asked breathing heavily, making Ava aware of the fact that he had run all the way here. She cracked a small smile.

"Yeah, I just have something to say," she says, looking at the sky, avoiding any sort of eye contact.

"Go on then," he replies making his way next to her, hands in his pocket as he also, looked at the night sky.

"I..um.." Ava begins, trying her best not to stutter, her legs shaking as she held the side of her dress.

"I like you," She choked out, turning to the man next to her, only to see him tilt his head still looking at the sky.

"Sure," he simply replied, causing Ava to look at him in pure disbelief.

"What do you mean by 'sure'?" she questioned, her heart beating extremely fast because of the annoying suspense.

"The more I react the more nervous you're going to get." he says, monotonously, not moving an inch, the bright moon light, as if they were in a play, acted like the stop light. They stood in silence with the gentle breeze blowing and making a soft whistling sound.

"Just tell me if it's a yes or no." she pleaded impatiently, waiting for a proper answer.

"Yes," he spoke, still not making eye contact.

"W-what?" Ava said, staring at him with wide eyes. She was not expecting this, since she had prepared herself for a rejection and now, she had no idea how to react.

"I said yes, we should date." he stated, finally looking at her. She noticed the reddish-pink tint on his cheeks, the way his jet black hair was gelled back revealing his forehead. How the moon light illuminated his side profile ever so gently. Even with the intense music in the background, to them it was a silent and peaceful moment as they stared at each other.

The restof the page was just about the extreme bliss and euphoria she felt when shewent to bed later that night, and thought of the surprisingly lovely day she had. Oh! How excited she was to meet him the next day.

Ava flips through a few more pages, refreshing the memories of how cheesy they were. She had penned down ever single thing. Like the one time they winked at each other throughout class or the other time when her friends had forced them to sit together for lunch. A sad chuckle left her lips.

Turning another page, she came to their first proper date at an amusement park.

It had almost been a month now and as a break from their exam preparation, Hoseok had taken her to a nearby amusement park.

Fitted in a pair of mom jeans and a soft yellow top, there sat Ava waiting for Hoseok to get them ice-cream. It was a beautiful, sunny day filled with laughter and screams from the little excited kids that frolicked around the park. She couldn't believe that the day had already come to an end.

The sky was hues of blue and purple. They had stayed this late so that they could have a romantic ride on the Ferris wheel, but since it wasn't running anymore they had come here to get their second round of ice-cream.

"There you go" Hoseok said as he handed her the softie dipped in chocolate, just how she liked it. Sitting beside her, he gets his phone out to click a photo.

"Ava! Look here," Hecalls out for her and clicks a picture causing her to turn with such swiftnessthat a little bit of the ice-cream smudges on her nose making her eyes widen.

"I wasn't ready Hobi!!" She spoke rising her voice slightly, you would expect her to be slightly annoyed right? But nope, instead she had a smile on her face; happy because of the fact that Hobi, her Hobi, was having a good laugh because of something she had done.

The way his eyes closed when he laughed, revealing his hidden dimples. How every time she looked at his smile all she could think of was the sun. The bright laughter filled the air as she also giggled a little.

Another pained smile, another sad chuckle left her lips as she stared at the page, wondering what had happened to them now? Sure they had ended things on a good, hopeful note but that didn't mean she was not sad, or heart broken.

Flipping through another good thirty pages or so, she came to a page that she had written on a few day ago, a weird and curious conversation. Something that she had not thought of so deeply then, a conversation in which she felt proud of her witty reply.

It was beautiful morning. The duo decided to walk to their school together. They kicked the stones on their path whilst holding hands. They talked about anything and everything, be it the birds chirping or how badly they wanted their math teacher to be absent so that they didn't have to give their test.

When the topic of shows came up, they bonded over the one drama she loved with her whole heart, the one with a sad love story, a genre she always enjoyed when she read books or watched series.

"And then he gets shot in front of her, but later towards the end she realizes that she has to move on." Ava finishes with her hand still mid air.

"That's why I say," Hoseok begins.

"There's no sorrow that lasts forever and there is no love that lasts forever." He continued, placing his free hand in his pocket as he looked at the beautiful girl walking beside him.

"I say there is," She replies, as their eyes meet.

"Which one ? Love or sorrow?" He asks, as they near their class.

"A sorrowful love." She replies with a slight shrug, as they enter their class, take their respective seats, and wait for the teacher to begin.

Her eyes water again as she realizes the journal is coming to an end, not wanting to cry anymore she directly skips to the end.

There she stood, in front of her house, the cool evening winds blew through her, causing her to rub hands together in an attempt to warm them up. It was only five in the evening and Hoseok had asked her to meet up in front of her house, saying he had something important to say.

"Hey!" She greeted, making her way towards him.

"Hey" He said, sounding pretty tired.

"What is it?" She got straight to the point knowing he had just got back from practice and that they didn't have much time before he had to go back to the company.

"I want to break up." He said with a straight face, which was in contrast to the confused and hurt expression Ava wore.

"It is a prank right? The others are hiding, aren't they?" She asked. More like tried to convince herself that he was just joking around with her, as the result of his and the boys' dares.

"No, I am serious Ava, but before you say anything, please let me explain." He spoke as both his hands gestured her to wait and let him complete.

"We are going to debut in a few months and I think I will not be able to give you the time and love you deserve. Neither will I be able to focus on performing. This might sound extremely cliché, but when I am fully settled-" She cut him off shaking her head vigorously, teary eyes, runny nose and cheeks cold.

"No, you don't have to come find me, I don't want you to waste your time and energy in finding me, not when I know I will move on and will be living the life I want " she said choking on her tears, as she turned her heels and left without another word or waiting for him to say anything.

She closed the book and looked at the clock. It was ten. Her usual bed time. She set the book on a table and took a quick bath before changing into her saturn pajamas. She turned the lights off and got under the sheets of her soft bed. Closing her eyes she thought

She will get over it. She promised him. She promised herself. She promised that she would live the life she wanted, that she would go after her all her dreams.

Well- not all of her dreams.. sadly, he was no longer something she could go after. Not for now, at least.

♥♥♥♥

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tenacioususedcars · 4 months

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Should Parents Buy Their Teens Their First Car?

As far as requests from teenagers go, it was pretty tame I suppose, but it’s one that’s sparked a lot of debate in our household over the past couple of months: “Mum, will you buy me a car as soon as I get my driver’s licence?”.

I could see why my daughter might have thought a response in the affirmative was even a remote possibility. She had, after all, witnessed plenty of family friends purchasing their own (older) teens' brand-new cars from which to slap P-plates. Why would I think any differently, right?

Call me crazy, but I’ve actually always felt sorry for kids whose first car is a luxury vehicle purchased entirely from the bank of mum and dad. What about the thrill of attaining something you’ve saved really hard for?

What about all the useful skills you learn from having to drive around a used hatchback? Studies show humans are happiest when we’re striving for something, so what could our kids possibly have to work towards when their first car is given to them with a big red bow?

My parents purchased my first car – a 1982 Toyota Corolla that looked as though it had been dumped, as opposed to parked, outside our home – for $2000 when I was 17. I had it for two days before they realised they couldn’t actually afford it and the Corolla went back to wherever it came from.

Traumatic? Absolutely, but I made do by driving mum’s decade-old Nissan Vanette; a vehicle so battered that I soon learnt all about car maintenance. So much so that by the time I had my full licence, I knew how to change tyres, perfect the art of the push start, and get to know all the roadside-assist guys at the NRMA so often did this thing break down.

More than that, I was filled with a burning desire to earn enough money to buy my own car. The kind that started the minute you turned the key in the ignition (and preferably had air-conditioning), and one that couldn’t be taken away the minute I closed my eyes.

Finance experts love the topic of whether parents should ever buy their teens a car, with most of them resolute that kids should make their own way to on-the-road freedom for their own good.

Some – including some of our most prominent talking heads – insist buying teens a brand-new car will not only leave them ill-adjusted for the real world but that we as parents would also be taking away a fantastic opportunity to learn essential life-long money management skills.

At face value, I agree, but when I think about all the long hours I spent in the middle of the night waiting for roadside assistance, I feel a little green around the gills. I want my girls to have money management skills and appreciation for everything they have, but I also want them to be safe.

So after a few weeks of rolling dialogue, we’ve agreed on a system where we will match our teen dollar-for-dollar to put towards a (roadworthy) second-hand car, be it a hatchback for sale or a sedan. This means she still has a goal to save towards, but she won’t walk away from her endeavours with a car that falls apart on the M4.

What’s the best way of choosing a second-hand car for your teen?

At an absolute minimum, be sure to:

Check out safety ratings for the car in question by visiting How Safe is Your Car.

Check online to see if that particular model has been recalled.

Have the car checked over for safety and reliability by a mechanic.

Select a popular used hatchback for sale that has six airbags (preferably).

Read reviews from other owners to determine how well the car performs.

And above all, resist the temptation to buy a car only to take it back a couple of days later. Believe me, that kind of thing sticks with you for a lifetime.

Article source: https://www.drive.com.au/caradvice/

#first time car buyer #first car #used cars

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learningnewways · 6 months

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Week one

Week one has come and gone, and it has been better than I ever could have imagined.

Last year my first week was pretty rough. It thundered almost every night so loudly that it would shake the house, and even with headphones on and music pumping I could still hear it, which was very frightening. Of course, it is ridiculously hot here, so sleeping was already difficult without the added anxiety. At my accommodation, we would experience power outages that lasted days at a time. I also didn’t know anyone, I didn’t know how to get around, and overall it was just an awful first week. It did get better slowly, especially when I met Antonia at church, who had also just arrived and was finding it very hard.

This year, my first week was full of catching up with friends, making new connections and settling into my new accommodation. The heat is still extreme of course, but while the power goes off fairly regularly, it doesn’t stay off for anywhere near as long as my old accommodation, meaning I can sleep much better. The thunder is not as frequent and nowhere near as loud this time! Other than the thunder and extreme heat, the other main thing that had made my time so difficult early on in my stay last year was the isolation. I was staying alone on the compound and the only other person I knew was Marian. As the months went on, connection was still hard, especially when Marian went overseas for a month. There were no small groups at church to join and the only friends I made were other expats like the Swiss family and American family. I love being by myself and having alone time, but I also love having a strong community. When being alone is all you have, it gets very isolating.

Because of this, I had been praying for more connections over here this time. Perhaps a small group to join or some new friends. That’s the main reason I moved accommodation this time, as the place I live now also houses other volunteers from overseas. Well… God is good! And He has definitely provided for me! In the first seven days of being here, I attended four different evening Christian groups. FOUR!! As opposed to the zero I attended last year. I had a Sunday evening Bible study, a Wednesday night prayer service at church, a Thursday night fellowship meeting on my compound, and a Friday night youth and young adults church meeting. It was crazy! Is it a coincidence that these things were all happening the week I arrived? I think not. In fact, three out of these four meetings only began in the last week! Talk about timing! Praise God!

Another amazing thing about where I am living is the people I have met here already on the compound. There are many people living here that come and go, but there is a group of five of us who have connected and plan to hang out and meet for regular Christian fellowship. Amongst this group is a woman also called Kim! Cool name right? She happens to be my neighbour too, how funny! But you know what’s even funnier… Guess where she is from…? Yep, she is from little old New Zealand. Kim and Kimberly from New Zealand, in The Gambia?! What are the chances?! Again, God is definitely at work here and I think He has a sense of humour, given I have only ever met one other person from New Zealand in The Gambia.

Other than attending Christian groups in the evenings and trying to make connections here, I have also been visiting Marian at Samaritana and easing my way back into the work here. After my mild heat-stroke case on Monday, I tried to take it a lot slower for the rest of the week and look after myself. On Tuesday I focused on setting up my room. I shopped for cleaning supplies and basic groceries, cleaned out all the cupboards, unpacked my bags and familiarised myself with the local area. Since I am living in a different area, it will take time to figure out where my new go-to shops will be, so I spent a bit of time wandering around, checking what stores have and their prices.

On Wednesday after spending some time with Marian in the community library, we met with Danielle who had organised for us to have an afternoon prayer time. It was really nice to sit with these two women and spend time with God. It is something that Marian and I didn’t really do much of last year together, so having Danielle here to help lead that is really nice. We planned to meet for prayer regularly, particularly to support Marian in her challenging and demanding role.

On Thursday Marian and I visited the child welfare office to discuss our intentions of visiting the government shelter regularly. This is something that we did last year and even when Marian was away, I continued to visit once a week. The government shelter is where orphaned, abandoned and trafficked children live, and it was my favourite place to be last year. The stories of these children’s lives and how they live now are absolutely heartbreaking, yet I was able to learn so much about God and His love by spending time loving the most vulnerable.

Since I left The Gambia, there has been a change in manager at the shelter, so the new manager does not know us. We had a really good relationship with the previous manager who always warmly welcomed us in, however we now essentially have to start from scratch again with the new manager. When we went to the child welfare office, the person we were looking to talk to was not there, so we got their number off one of the staff and called them. They said we needed to write a letter explaining what we wanted to do, so that afternoon I spent time writing a letter asking for permission for us to visit, explaining all we had done in the past with the shelter.

I delivered the letter on Friday morning, but unfortunately, once again the person I wanted to speak with was not on site. I am really hoping and praying that they accept our request to visit the shelter as soon as possible, as it is the main reason I came back to The Gambia. While I enjoyed most of the work I did last year in The Gambia, once I got home it was the children in the shelter that I could not get out of my mind or heart. Knowing that they were still there while I was back home in New Zealand was devastating. The shelter is supposed to just be temporary, yet some of these kids have been living there their whole lives. So please pray that child welfare approves of our request so I can begin visiting the shelter and supporting the children there.

After my time at the child welfare office, we visited the office of an embassy for a country where many trafficking victims come from, to touch base with them. It is clear that Marian has been working hard to form connections with different organisations. After these meetings, I walked 30 minutes in the heat all the way to… IceLand, my favourite ice cream shop! Wahooooo! Luckily I managed to catch up with Q on the phone while I was walking, so it made the time pass a lot faster, but once I arrived I was a very sweaty mess! Sadly upon arrival, I discovered their ice cream was not ready yet, I had come too early in the day! Apparently people don’t tend to buy ice cream before midday? Uh… Well I do, obviously! Thankfully they had some out back that they could offer me, so I joyfully sat in their air conditioned shop and slowly ate my delicious ice cream. Yum!

On Saturday I walked with Kim, my fellow Kiwi, down to a cafe where we sat and talked for over five hours! Wow! We enjoyed the air conditioning and some yummy fries and I learnt about how she came to be in The Gambia and what ministries her heart is for. I chatted a lot about the challenges and disheartening things I struggle with in the area of sex trafficking and orphaned children, and she also has a heart for this which was amazing. Hopefully I can connect her to Marian as I’m sure they would do amazing things together in this area. Of course, being that it was Saturday, the elections had just happened back home, so we chatted about that too, as well as the rugby. Classic New Zealanders…

Overall, I have found people to be really welcoming, supportive and looking out for me this time, which is so nice. More so than I remember happening last time, but perhaps it is because people know who I am this time or maybe I am more open as I feel more confident? Either way, it is really nice. I don’t like walking alone at night over here as I’m not sure it is safe for me, so every time there has been an evening meeting, someone has kindly offered to walk with me. Often these people are strangers that I don’t even know but have been passed their details by someone at church because they are going to the same event, and they have all been so nice about it. Walking together is good too as it means more time for connection. I’m feeling like people are valuing me being here, even if just for a short amount of time. Thank you Lord!

Another thing I was hoping to find this time was an acoustic guitar, as I love to play and sing. I had looked online but couldn’t seem to find an affordable one anywhere. Well… It turns out that one of the other volunteers on my compound has access to one and is happy for me to borrow it regularly! Whaaaaat?! How cool! I played for an hour or so on Friday afternoon and it felt so wonderful to have a guitar. So awesome! Again, thank you God!

As you can probably tell, I am feeling much more positive after my first week than I was last year, which I am immensely thankful to God for. I think having been here before really helps as I am familiar with my surroundings and can confidently find my way around, but to have everything else go so smoothly, to connect with so many wonderful people… That can only be God!

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vivelareine · 3 years

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Did you know? According to Louis XVI’s record-keeping, Marie Antoinette went to the Petit Trianon for 216 days between 1779 through 1788. He recorded the most days in 1784 (39 days) and the least in 1783 (6 days).

#marie antoinette #french history #petit trianon #18th century #history #it's unclear whether or not he meant 216 days -total- or 216 journeys to the Trianon without recording the days #it would be worthwhile #to compare this info with other documents to see how accurate it is #it could also mean only days where she spent the night (as opposed to #going there for a fete & coming back to the Versailles chateau)

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slasherscream · 3 years

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hear me out crazy ass boy gang with a s/o that writes them songs but has never shown them. randomly the guys find them knowing them some are gonna be insufferable with the amount of arrogance they now possess and some of them have no clue what to do with the concept of someone loving them and verbalizing it 🥺

A/N: oooh my gosh i'm obsessed with this concept

billy loomis: Was waiting for you to get back from school/work, and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t necessarily trying to find anything, but the book was on your desk- you were asking him to read it, at this point. He’s only halfheartedly looking until he realizes the words are lyrics. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the love songs are written with him in mind. At first it makes him smirk. But he can see the evolution of your relationship through the lyrics. General feelings of infatuation melting into the deeper connection of being in love with him, as opposed to being in love with love itself. It’s an ego boost, for sure. Mostly it’s a relief. Here are your feelings, written out on page, clear as day. Your every unfiltered thought. He doesn’t tell you he read the book. He just walks around with a knowing smirk on his face that you’re very suspicious of. You’re easily distracted from this onset of smugness by his sudden romantic nature. He’s never been a bad boyfriend, but he’s certainly never been so downright doting. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you decide to just enjoy this random streak of tenderness.

josh washington: You two were moving in together and he was just trying to unpack some of your boxes for you. He’s honestly just setting up your desk for you. All the boxes are marked so that either one of you can unpack anything inside with at least a vague idea of where the stuff should go. Something about the unmarked notebook that doesn’t look like its for school makes him take a look inside. When he realizes how personal it is he wants to put it down. Then he spots his name... and well, he isn’t a saint.

He melts as he goes through the pages. He knows the two of you love each other. You have to love each other, with all the bullshit you’ve been through. But he knows it’s not easy to be with him. Sometimes he worries that you’ll wake up one day and be done with him. Be done with all the problems that come with being with him. He wouldn’t blame you but the thought leaves him hollow. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. He doesn’t know if he could handle you being gone. You love him though. It’s inked into the pages. Some songs written out slow and careful, and others written out sloppy and fast, like you had to get all the feeling out of your chest because it hurt to have it all trapped inside. You’ll walk in carrying takeout and find Josh crying. You nearly drop the food to run and comfort him. When he tells you what’s wrong - or really, what isn’t wrong, you won’t even have the heart to be angry. He looks somewhere between overwhelmed and awe. All he can think to do is pull you into his arms. He holds you so tightly you wonder if he’s afraid someone will come and take you away.

stu macher: He was just going through your stuff because he was bored, honestly. He wasn’t expecting to find anything juicy. The minute he realizes he’s holding onto a notebook full of songs he’s giddy. It’s practically a diary! You'll come into your bedroom and see him poring over your words without shame. He won’t even have the decency to stop. “Hey babe!”, will be his absentminded greeting as his eyes stay glued to a far-too-familiar book. You’ll have to literally snatch it from him. “Didn’t know you felt this way about me.” His teasing will be relentless. You’ll have to threaten to break up with him, and give him a bit of the silent treatment too. Eventually he’ll ease up on you, his grin going soft around the edges. “You should show me them on your own next time. Else I’ll have to go hunting for ‘em.” It’s not an idle threat. Now that he knows the book exists he’ll really tear up your entire house looking for it. Don’t bother trying to hide it. It won’t be worth the headache.

jd: His first instinct is to become insufferable. As he reads more of your lyrics, he starts getting overwhelmed. Even as he holds the proof in his hands, he can barely wrap his head around you feeling so strongly about him. He traces over your handwriting and relishes every word. You'll catch him in the act but you won't have the chance to get angry. He kisses you like a man starved. Whispers every thought of love he's ever had against your lips, uncaring if he sounds obsessed. He was allowed a glimpse at your soul. It's only fair that he bares his in return.

kevin khatchadourian: Honestly was indifferent at first. He was going through your things because ‘why shouldn't he?‘ when he found all the songs. Page after page he reads. Slowly but surely it starts to get to him. The only person who's ever loved him is his father, and that love is built upon an endless tapestry of falsehoods and manipulation. His father loves someone who doesn't exist. His mother knows him, always has, but she despises him. Celia loves him, but it's pathetic. The hopeless and unthinking love of a dog. And now there's you. When he's with you he drops the act of normality he puts on for everyone else. You were around so constantly that he couldn't stomach wearing the mask 24/7. Beyond that though, there was something about you that made him want to show you everything. At first he thought he wanted to scare you. Now he doesn't know what he really wants from you.

As he reads through the pages he's sifting through your words, finding the deeper meanings. Watches as you stop writing about his mask, and start writing about him. Jagged and malicious and apathetic as he might be. You're infatuated maybe you even love him. You've written out the words in a hundred different ways. He can see it every time you look at him, reach for him, follow him, talk to him. Reading it is different, somehow. You probably never wanted him to see these words. To know the depth of how you feel. You were probably afraid he'd mock you. A few months ago he would have. Now? He puts the book back, exactly where he found it.

He won't tell you about reading it, but the words are always on his mind. You'll think you misplaced the book one day and be beside yourself over losing it. Eventually you’ll find it again, out of the blue. Something is off about it though... but you’re not sure what. You’ll never know that what you have is a replica of the original book. A good replica, granted, but a replica nonetheless. Kevin thought about the songs too much, and committing them all to memory hadn’t scratched the itch. The constant cycle of the words running through his head. The irritation he’d feel when he forgot a part of a song, or mixed lyrics together. Having the book itself? It quieted his mind. He’s uncomfortable with the fact that he keeps it under his bed, tucked away inside a lock box, just so no one would be able to look at it. He’s never felt so protective over an item before. He tries not to think about it too much.

nathan prescott: He actually looked at your song book on accident. He needed to borrow some notes for a class and you told him he could just go to your room and grab them. He would never go searching for something like that. Saying he values his privacy would be an understatement, so he'd never disrespect yours. As soon as he realizes these are songs he wants to stop reading... but he's desperate to know what you think of him. People lie so easily, but here's a chance to see the raw truth of how you feel. He's terrified as he starts to read. Then he's just shocked. He'd hoped you weren't like everyone else around him. Wanting him to fail, to lose it, waiting for some sort of pay-off or trickle down. Even if you were, he wanted you so badly he was willing to have you any way you came, as long as you stayed. But here you are, your deepest feelings written out in ink, and you love him. You don't even pity him, you ache for him, want him. The next time he sees you he tells you he loves you for the first time. You'll never know that he read your songs, you'll only notice how much your relationship seemed to change over night.

sebastian valmont: Has to deflect. The only reason he’s being such an asshole about your songs is because he’s trying to deflect. He’s the only one here who has also written about you. Maybe not in lyrics, or in poetry, but he’s written about you. His diary is full of you. He started writing about you the moment he met you. Not unusual for him, considering absolutely everything is in his journals. But from the start there’s been something different about the entries that mention you. All his words suddenly become electric, leaping off the page. His descriptions of you, of the time you spent together, nearing obsessive in their detail. As if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

If there’s anything Sebastian is good at its manipulation. He knows he has you. He can have anyone, if he puts his mind to it. He’s made people fall in love with him before. There’s a long line of people who wants his head on a platter for that very reason. You’re the only prize that’s ever mattered, though. He has you now, sure. But what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? It’s easy for eyes to wander, for the heart to turn fickle. Sometimes he watches you and tries to imagine what you might want from him. Tries to figure out what he could do to keep you interested from moment to moment. If he ever shared his worries with you, his worries that you could just get bored with him and leave, just like that - you’d tell him you don’t want him to be anyone but himself. And Sebastian doesn’t want to be anyone but himself, he doesn’t. But people contain multitudes, are more than a single face. He’d rather be a version of himself that captivates you then a “true” version of himself that you can grow tired of.

But here’s written proof that you love him. As he is. All the long nights you’ve spent talking to one another, side by side. The conversations where you traded barbs and philosophy, and everything in-between. The dinners, and picnics, and phone calls, and rooftops. He was so busy observing you, and trying to create a version of himself that you could love, that he forgot that there was something real for you to fall for. Didn’t even know how much of himself he was earnestly offering to you. Now he can see it in ink, and it’s scary, even with how much he loves you, to realize how much of the real him you know.

So he’s an asshole for a few days. When you confront him he falls apart like a wet sandcastle. You won’t have time to get angry before he’s pushing his own journals into your hands. Sebastian has never played fair, but something about you seeing through him despite all his masks made him want to show you more. As scary as it had been, it was also a moment of pure connection. The most electric, addicting thing he’s ever felt. He wants to feel it over and over again.

#billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jd x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #nathan prescott x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #josh washington x reader #crazy ass boys gang #heathers #scream #scream imagine #until dawn imagine #i am not proofreading this if you see an error no you didn't

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

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Vicious

Part II

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1891.

Part I

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

P.S. To avoid any confusion, I changed the name Savages -> Vicious.

________________________

The next day you spent doubting your own decisions. Was it really wise to leave everything to Steve? How could he find those students all by himself and deal with your problem? Could he really stop them from acting like that? You thought once again it would be so much easier to ask for a transfer, but you had already given him your word to meet him today at 5. It would be very inappropriate not to come when he was trying to help you.

When the time came, you were sneaking in the student council room as if you were some petty thief. You were afraid people would start talking: if everybody knew who stole your things, they would understand you came to Steve for help like a little girl. It was embarrassing - even in a situation like this. Besides, somebody could be following you since at 5 pm the academy was almost empty.

By the time you reached the right door, you heart was beating as if you had just run a marathon. You really, really hoped Steve found some solution, and you wouldn’t have to be humiliated by the student advisor for wanting to leave the school.

Opening the door, you saw a couple of students on the sofa and quickly stepped away, afraid the student council was still having a meeting, “Ugh, sorry!”

“Come in, please,” Steve said calmly behind the door, and you shyly got in again, watching four other guys staring at you with interest. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“What, they too?” You were so perplexed by his words you forgot your manners, speaking of others as if they weren’t in the same room. “I’m sorry, I mean, I didn’t know you were involved.”

Wait, were they the ones who stole your things? Did Steve bring them here for you?

“No need to be so nervous.” One of them, a guy with long, jet black hair forming waves around his shoulders told you, motioning you to come closer and sit in one of the chairs opposing the sofa where he sat. “We’re here to help you.”

You remembered his name was Loki. A mathematic genius, he was considered one of the top students of the academy.

“That’s right! Come, come!” Seeing Peter among others was surprising, but his smiling face made you calm down a little, and you smiled at him in return.

No, they weren’t those guys who stole your underwear, for sure. Apparently, Steve asked them to join you because they knew something and could give you a hand in finding those bastards.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me.” Feeling a little self-conscious among five different men you'd barely known, you landed on one of the chairs and saw that the other two were Bucky and a captain of the academy’s basketball team, Thor. “Did you find out anything?”

“Yes,” Steve said with a loud sigh, “I know exactly who they are. I can hand them over to the school’s officials and get them expelled by tomorrow, but that’s not the real issue here.”

You felt the chills ran up your back. What did he mean by the real issue?

“Is there something else?”

When you saw Loki smirking at you, you suddenly realized you were among five strong men in the student council room on the fifth floor where most classrooms were already empty. If you screamed, nobody would even hear you.

“Stop it.” Bucky’s angry voice cut through the silence, and you saw him literally burning a hole in Loki’s face. “Don’t make her scared, freak.”

Obviously, he wanted to say something offensive to Barnes in return, but Steve silenced them both with his icy glare. Loki sent him an innocent smile while Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes in irritation. It felt like they were in the middle of some school play, and you bit down on your lower lip, having a feeling something was going horribly wrong.

“The thing is, even if we got those ones expelled, it probably won’t stop the others from doing something similar.” Steve leaned up against a desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “I feel terrible admitting it, but many of our students are completely wild. I’m afraid they might keep harassing you.”

“Oh.”

You averted your eyes, realizing your attempts to find a solution were futile. Obviously, Steve could do nothing - he wasn’t a knight in shining armor, ready to protect you day and night from those delinquents who followed you everywhere. As you thought before, the one thing that could help here was leaving the school for good.

Shit, you didn’t know how to explain it to your family, Even your friends thought it was too bizarre to be true and laughed at your worries, saying you probably lost your things yourself. You would have to find a better excuse for a transfer in the middle of the semester.

“Well, anyway, thank you for trying,” you nodded and smiled apologetically at him as if it were your fault, “tomorrow I will talk to the student advisor about my transfer. Sorry for the trouble!”

“I don’t think it’s real to get transferred by now. It’s passed all the deadlines.” Shaking his head, Bucky raised his voice, and you felt suffocating.

Apparently, you would really have to skip a whole year of school. Explaining everything to your family, looking for some garbage job to have enough money to rent a room and pay your bills... Fantastic.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve found another way.”

Immediately, you raised your head, your pupils dilating.

“You see, the reason they are doing that is because you have no one to protect you. They know the administration won’t take it seriously because they’re a bunch of old misogynists, and you also have no means of protecting yourself. It would be better if you started dating someone, someone strong enough to make these guys back down.”

Steve looked deadly serious for someone saying such nonsense. A boyfriend? Now? Was he for real? Did he think you'd be using someone like your personal shield? Besides, even if you chose the strongest guy at school, it didn’t mean he would be stronger if several people attacked him.

But when you shared your thoughts with Steve, you saw others smiling at you as if they knew you would say that, and you felt uneasy.

“That’s true. That’s why you need more than one boyfriend.”

“What do you mean? How can somebody have more than one boyfriend?" Puzzled, you stared at him wide-eyed as if he said something stupid.

What on Earth did he mean by that? Were you to have your own squad of bodyguards at all times while you were in the academy? This was so foolish you couldn't believe someone like Steve said it out loud.

But then you caught glances of five men in the room and forgot how to breathe for a second. They weren't serious, were they? Steve didn't assemble all these guys here to make them into your boyfriends. It was preposterous even thinking of that, right?

Right?

"Please tell me it's not what I think it is." You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as if trying to protect yourself.

"Why are you being so nervous?" Baring his teeth, Loki smiled at you. "Some other girl would be happy if five men were to be her boyfriends."

"It's a joke, right? You're all joking."

You hoped to see any of them laughing and nodding their heads, saying they simply wanted to cheer you up, but all you saw was a guilty expression on the faces of Bucky and Thor and the excitement of others. They really gathered here to offer you this.

"All of us here," Steve looked upon others, becoming a little displeased when his gaze fell upon smiling Peter, "are perfectly capable of helping you. If each of us were to accompany you one day a week, others won't be so brave. I'm sure they will no longer be a nuisance to you if they know what we can do to them."

There was something very dark in the way Steve said that, and for a couple of seconds you weren't sure whether you have to be more scared of him rather than those who was stealing your things.

"But it would be very uncomfortable for everyone, wouldn't it? I mean, going with me everywhere, not using your own time as you'd like. And, well, surely, others will see that we won't act like a real couple, so they might still keep harassing me. I don't think it would work."

Apparently, Loki was bored with this talk, you thought as you heard him clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"Then don't pretend. Act like a real girlfriend. Kiss in public, hug, go to the cinema together, what else girls do?"

"Wait, you mean, with ALL of you?"

"Yeah? Do you think anyone gonna be against it?"

You very much hoped they would be. Being followed by someone like your bodyguard was one thing, but having a real boyfriend was very different. Did they really want to pretend to be lovey-dovey with you? Act like you were close to them?

Oh. Of course, they would. They belonged to the same kind of touch-starved barbaric men they were trying to protect you from. They would do all those things to you, too.

You realized you were crying only when Peter flew off his seat in a hurry and squatted down beside you, taking your shaking hands in warm his.

"Please, don't cry. Nobody's gonna force you into doing anything, I promise. You will only do things you're comfortable with, ok?" Handing you his pearly white handkerchief, he smiled to comfort you. "No one of us gonna say anything."

"And if she starts dating one of us for real? What's then?" It was Loki again, cocking his head to the side and obviously provoking Peter to yell at him.

"We'll be ok with that, too."

The silence felt heavy. As you opened your eyes, Peter's handkerchief in your hands, you realized it was Thor who spoke for the first time, and the way he looked at you softly made you feel a little better. Despite the fact you knew little of him, for some reason, it felt like you would be safe with him - certainly safer than with Loki.

"Naturally, if any of us will bring you discomfort or do something unacceptable, you need to let us all know, and we'll decide what to do with that person." Raising his voice, the head of the student council made everyone to turn their head to him. "We will be meeting here, in this room, if anything happens. Each of us will give you our phone numbers. We will also make a schedule who accompanies you every day of the week."

It seemed he no longer asked for your opinion if you even wanted it to happen.

__________

"Bucky will be with you on Mondays, Loki on Tuesdays. Wednesdays are Thor's, on Thursdays Peter will be following you, and on Fridays it will be me going with you. Of course, if you need any of us to watch over you on weekends, feel free to contact whoever of us you like more."

Part III

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegarden

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark thor #dark loki #dark peter parker #yandere

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yuzukult · 3 years

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acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”

#ficscafe #nct fanfic #johnny x reader #johnny fanfic #johnny suh #johnny nct #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfic #suh johnny #gyukultfics #idk what else to tag #hopefully this does well :|

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ncitygirls · 3 years

Text

only - changbin x f reader

angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k

you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.

to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.

your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.

‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’

‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’

‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’

‘i am the smart one.’

‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’

with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’

‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’

‘scribbles.’

‘i must make you my wife.’

‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’

‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’

‘i do no such thing-’

‘it’s cute.’

‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’

‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’

‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’

‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’

‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’

‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’

you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.

‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’

that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.

in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.

‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’

it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.

“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”

“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”

“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”

only, falser words had never been spoken.

you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”

“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”

“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”

“heard from who?”

“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”

“informed of what—”

“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”

“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”

“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”

“official word of what—”

“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”

“king hyunjin!”

gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.

“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”

“i-is he there? is he okay?”

“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”

“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”

“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”

“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”

“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”

“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.

“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.

“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”

only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”

hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.

‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’

‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’

‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’

‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’

‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’

‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’

‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’

‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’

‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.

with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’

‘and this all worries you?’

‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’

‘how can you say that-’

‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’

‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’

‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’

‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’

‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.

‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’

‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’

‘do not mock me.’

‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’

‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.

‘you seem to have thought this through..’

‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’

‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’

‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’

‘maleficent.’

‘hm?’

‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’

‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’

‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’

‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’

‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’

‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’

‘hm?’

‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’

‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’

“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”

the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”

“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”

“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”

“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”

“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”

“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”

“where is he?”

“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”

further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”

“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”

“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”

“yes, sir.”

hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”

the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.

and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.

“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.

“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”

“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”

“and before?”

“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”

“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”

“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”

“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”

“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”

you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.

he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.

“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.

“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”

“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”

“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”

“i might have been here sooner if-”

“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”

safe.

“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”

he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”

because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.

#so #changbin #seo changbin #changbin smut #changbin fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #dno if it counts as angst #stray kids au #ncitygirls #skz au #skz smut #skz changbin #lol it is angst #skz angst #changbin angst #stray kids angst

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Just Friends - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 5034

Foreword:

I have never written anything for an actual person. For my own comfort, I will not be referring to Cillian’s actual family and, instead, I have created two small biographies for the Reader and Cillian.

Biography:

The Reader:

The Reader is 24 years old and recently moved to Dublin with her 5 year old son, Max in order to take up a fantastic job offer.

Max’s father isn’t interested in a relationship with his son and separated from the Reader pretty much as soon as she found out that she was pregnant.

The Reader is a novelist and editor for the Irish Times.

The Reader’s interests include books, listening to records, theatre and attending live music gigs.

The Reader has a close relationship with her grandmother who is 65 years old and a writer herself. She also lives in Dublin with her second husband, who is originally from Galway.

Cillian:

Cillian is 42 years old in this story. He is divorced from his wife Siobhan and has two kids, Charlie (6) and Hendricks (8).

He lives in a town house in Dublin and shares custody.

In this story, he finished filming Season 4 of Peaky Blinders about three months ago, which is when the Reader first met him.

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

JUST FRIENDS

Three and a half months ago you moved to Dublin to take a position as editor at the Irish Times. Initially, the move was daunting to you as you were a single mother and moving your son to a different preschool concerned you.

Fortunately, your grandmother was living in Dublin as well and offered to help you with looking after your son, Max. She was a retired novelist herself and you always had a close relationship with her. Having her around was a blessing.

Over the years, you also met some Irish writers and established good relationships with them. Therefore, finding friends in Dublin was not an issue.

One of your best friends was a play writer from London and was working in Ireland at the time, promoting her theatre play called ‘Blessings’. She introduced you to a bunch of people, most of which were working in the entertainment industry in some way or another.

Whilst all of your new found friends were a fair bit older than you, you related to them. You had interests in common and most of them had children, just like you. They understood that sometimes plans had to be cancelled and flexibility was limited. Having children is a commitment which many of your younger friends didn’t understand. You weren’t interested in late nights because a young child meant early mornings. For this reason, you would much rather attend a dinner and board game night as a opposed to a night club.

And this is how you met a very interesting man named Cillian. Three months ago, your friend Orla invited you to a board game night with a couple of her friends. Cillian was pretty much the only other single person in attendance and, since this was a board game that had to be played in teams of two, you and Cillian were paired up with him.

He was funny and smart and very attractive. You had a good time that night and even won the game with your combined knowledge of random trivial facts.

He was a fun person to be around and you had several common interests.

Over the next few months, you spent a fair bit of time together, mostly with other friends but sometimes alone when your friends were doing things as couples with their partners.

Just recently, you went record shopping together and the weekend before last you and another friend of yours would take all of your kids to Dublin Zoo for the day. Your son Max developed a great friendship with Cillian’s youngest son Charlie. Playdates were a common occurrence.

While both of you separately explored the dating world, you really enjoyed Cillian’s company as a friend and he enjoyed yours and you would often chat about the mishaps you encountered and laugh about them. Dates gone wrong was one of your favourite topics.

The last relationship Cillian had was with a co-worker, which was far from ideal. They’ve met on set of one of his movies about a year after he divorced from his wife, but things didn’t go as planned and the relationship didn’t last. It ended about four months ago, being just one month before you met.

The last relationship you had was over a year ago and it also didn’t last as your boyfriend couldn’t deal with the fact that you were a single mum and that your son always came first.

For Valentines Day this year, your friends set up dates for each of you. It was disastrous. Neither of you were interested in committing at this point and you both were rather flustered about your friends’ efforts after you both had told them not to bother.

You were happy singles.

Theatre Night

As happy singles, you decided to go and see your friend’s new play ‘Blessings’ with some of your other friends on the night you all managed to be child free for once. It took a while to organise but was worth the effort.

‘Hi Max, how was preschool?’ Cillian asked as he opened the door to your townhouse for Cillian while you were in the bathroom, putting up your hair.

Max met Cillian numerous times and got along with him very well. After all, Cillian had a son the same age as Max.

‘Good. Do you want me to show you what I made?’ Max asked while you waived at Cillian from the bathroom.

‘Absolutely, show me’ Cillian said with a smile as he followed Max into the living room.

‘Look’ Max said as he held up two paintings.

‘Wow, is that a T-Rex?’ Cillian asked, causing Max to nod with excitement.

‘That’s very cool…he looks super scary’ Cillian added just as there was another knock on the door.

It was your grandmother who was here to pick up Max for his sleepover at her house.

You opened the door and asked Max to get his bag from the living room which you had packed for him earlier.

‘Nan, this is my friend Cillian’ you said as you introduced Cillian to your grandmother.

‘Hello Cillian, I am Margot. I loved Grief is a Thing with Feathers. It was such an intense play’ she said, knowing right away who he was despite the fact that you had never mentioned him to her before.

‘Thank you Margot and I loved By The Sea, it was a fantastic book’ Cillian responded. He read the book after you told him about your grandmother. Your writing style was very similar to hers and he always loved a good book.

‘Oh thank you very much. Now Max, are you ready?’ your grandmother asked.

Max was ready and you said goodbye, giving him a big hug and thanking your grandmother for looking after him for the night.

While Cillian waited in the living room, you finished your make up and slipped on your shoes.

‘Thank you for picking me up. I really have no idea where this place is’ you said as you grabbed your bag and the two of you were heading out of the door.

‘Any time Y/N, it isn’t far from here actually’ Cillian said.

As you were walking to the Arthouse Theatre you talked about all sorts of things, music, childcare and books.

It was a cold night in Dublin and you were probably underdressed for the occasion.

At the Arthouse Theatre you met up with another two friends of yours. They were both married, to each other, and shared three children. Luckily for them, they had a baby sitter that night.

The play was amazing and you all enjoyed it with a few glasses of wine which were served at the theatre. Cillian had good taste when it came to wine and you usually sought his guidance on what to order.

After you left the theatre, you felt awfully hungry. You hadn’t eaten dinner that night.

‘I am starving, is anyone else up for Pizza?’ you asked your three friends, including Cillian

‘We would love to, but only have a baby sitter until 9pm, sorry’ Amanda said, explaining that she and her husband had to head home fairly soon.

‘What about you Cilly?’ you asked.

‘I would love some Pizza, let’s go to Pizzinis’ he said.

Both you and Cillian said goodbye to your friends and made your way to Pizzinis.

As usual, it was packed and there were no table available.

‘Wanna grab them take away and go back to my place? I’ve got wine and you can show me this new album you were talking about earlier’ you said.

‘Sounds good, let’s do that’ Cillian said before ordering two pizzas.

More than Friends

You arrived at your apartment about 30 minutes later and Cillian put on some music. He found this new Irish band he liked and you were really keen to hear them.

‘Hmm Indie…I like it’ you said as he connected his i-phone to your speakers.

‘Wine?’ you asked as you grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf.

‘Yes please and thanks’ Cillian said as he put the pizzas on the table.

‘I was meant to ask you, how was your Valentine’s date?’ Cillian asked before taking the first bite of the pizza.

‘Oh god, don’t remind me on it please’ you said with a laugh.

‘That good ey? What happened?’ Cillian laughed.

‘He was weird. He basically left after I told him about Max’ you responded.

‘I think that sometimes guys your age might be a bit freaked out by the fact that you have child. I can’t say that I blame them. I couldn’t imagine myself becoming a step father when I was in my 20s’ Cillian said.

‘He was 32’ you responded.

‘Well maybe he was just weird and you are just unlucky when it comes to dating’ Cillian laughed.

‘Yeah, maybe…I am just over dating’ you said…’What about your date?’ you asked.

‘Pretty average. I mean she was nice but had no sense of humour’ Cillian said.

‘Oh what, wait…she didn’t laugh at your Irish jokes?’ you laughed.

‘Outrageous I know. I mean how could she not?’ Cillian joked.

‘Here is to failed dates’ you said as you held up your wine glass for a toast.

‘To failed dates’ Cillian responded with smile.

Over the next hour or so, Cillian and you finished both pizzas and talked about books, including the book you were currently writing, music and embarrassing things your kids had done.

Quite music was playing in the background by then while you talked and laughed together until Cillian brought up a specific book he had read recently, written by a writer named J A Hanson, which he said reminded him on you in a way.

‘I have read all of her books and I really wish I could write romance as well as her’ you said.

‘Her books aren’t exactly romantic’ Cillian responded.

‘Her storylines aren’t romantic, but the character she uses in all of her books involves herself romantically with several other characters throughout the series. The way she writes makes you relate to the character even in these intimate moments’ you explained.

‘She is 60 and probably speaking from experience. I have read in a paper a few months back that she had quite an interesting and adventurous youth in the 70s and 80s’ Cillian said.

‘Free Love…Yeah, I have read this too’ you laughed. ‘Perhaps I just need some inspiration to get over my block, otherwise I will never finish this damn novel’ you said as you poured yourself some more wine.

‘You don’t have to answer this, but when was the last time that…?’ Cillian asked and, before he could finish his question, you interrupted him.

‘That I had sex? Gosh…well over a year ago’ you responded, causing Cillian’s chin to drop.

‘Over a year? Seriously? I mean, surely, a woman like you would get plenty of offers…’ Cillian said, not knowing what else to tell you.

‘A woman like me? What do you mean by that Cilly?’ you asked with a slight giggle.

‘Well, you are attractive, smart and funny. You would get a fair bit of interest’ Cillian responded.

‘So, you think I am attractive?’ you asked with a smirk, causing Cillian to choke slightly on his wine. He regretted what he had said almost instantly, causing awkwardness between you.

‘Well yeah, I think you are an attractive woman’ Cillian said quietly. ‘In a totally objective way of course’ he added, while, just in this moment, you observed his facial expressions.

You observed him drop his eyes to your lips as he said it, and then lower to the place where your shirt opens at the collar, the buttons undone to below your collarbone.

He pressed his lips together. ‘I think I should probably get go…’ he said, and, before he could finish his sentence, you leaned in and kissed him suddenly, like the peck you give a boy you like on the school bus the second before you jump up and get off – a brief bravery without a plan.

He was caught by surprise.

‘Y/N’ he said and, before he could say something else, you apologised to him for what just happened.

‘I am sorry Cilly, I don’t know what just came over me’ you said.

‘It’s alright, I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was inappropriate’ Cillian said.

But, with Cillian’s response, you couldn’t leave it alone and asked ‘So, you don’t think that I am attractive?’ you asked, giggling slightly with some embarrassment.

‘Any man who thinks that you aren’t attractive is clearly blind. But, with that being said, it doesn’t matter what I think, you are 18 years younger than me and it would be wrong for us to take this further. Despite, I don’t want to fuck up our friendship’ Cillian said calmly.

You didn’t know what to say to his comment and, instead of using any words, you ran your hand gently over the side of his perfect face while biting your lip.

‘Just one kiss between friends then, we can blame the red wine after’ you whispered as a comfortable hot feeling washed over you. You felt some sort of attraction towards Cillian since the moment you met him, but didn’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to him.

‘I don’t know Y/N’ Cillian said as you leaned closer towards him and pressed your lips onto his. You knew he was reluctant but he didn’t push you away.

To the contrary, as you kissed him, his hand came up in a rush to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. Within seconds, his tongue slipped between your lips, whispering over your teeth and began dancing with your tongue.

You noticed the brush of his stubble on your cheek, the press of his lips on yours and the way his mouth tasted, a mix of minty gum and red wine.

It shouldn’t have been so hot, but it was. The taste of him, the smell and flavour, and it made you whimper in your throat. You knew this was one off and you didn’t want this moment to end.

‘Are you ok?’ he asked after he pulled back a little and paused. He was scanning your eyes and there was a cautious considering from his side. You could tell that he was surprised about what had just happened.

‘Yeah, you?’ you said as you couldn’t help yourself but stare into his baby blue eyes.

‘Yes’ he said as he cleared his throat slightly.

There was an awkward silence in the room and you couldn’t stand it.

You build up all of your courage again and leaned over him, pressing your lips onto his once more.

Cillian didn’t hesitate then.

His tongue slipped right back into the same spot than before, before his lips then moved over your face and down to your neck, leaving gentle bites and kisses.

Cillian’s hands were busy touching you at the same time his lips were trailing over your neck.

One of his hands was in your hair at the back of your head while his other hand was moving down to press the small of your back so that your body was pulled forward into his.

As you were exchanging passionate kisses, you could feel the shape of him, the firmness of his body against yours, your legs pressing into his and his chest pressing into your breasts. You could also feel his erection through his jeans, hard as anything, rigid and warm against your tummy.

By this time, you wanted more than just kisses.

‘Sleep with me, just that once’ you whispered.

‘I can’t Y/N, you are 24, it is not right’ Cillian said pulling away from you.

‘It’s just sex Cilly, I am old enough for that’ you laughed.

‘Yes, but I don’t want this to ruin our friendship’ Cillian said.

‘It won’t. There are no strings attached, it’s just sex. Unless you don’t want me’ you responded. ‘Although I think you do’ you giggled as you ran your hand over his pants, feeling his erection.

Your comment made Cillian chuckle.

‘This is a one off, alright?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod.

‘One off…and it stays our little secret’ you said before smashing your lips back onto his for another minute or two.

After you exchanged more passionate kisses you stood up.

‘Common, I show you my bedroom’ you said cheekily, taking his hand and guiding him towards the bed.

‘Can you help me with this please’ you asked, turning around to face the bed. Your back was now facing Cillian and you pulled your hair aside so that he can open the zipper of your dress.

Cillian unzipped your dress carefully, exposing your black lace underwear.

As you pushed your dress down onto the floor, Cillian began kissing your back and neck, while running his hands over your breasts and stomach, all the way down in between your legs.

You let out a brief moan before turning around to face him and help him pull his t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly shaped biceps.

Looking into his eyes, your hand glided gracefully, for once, past Cillian’s belt buckle and into the holy crevice of his Calvin Klein briefs. His cock was hard and ready.

You moved it between my your slowly, relishing his obvious eagerness.

You used the other hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, shortly after which he pushed them down to the floor while your other hand never left his warm and hard cock.

After the jeans came off, Cillian pressed his lips back onto yours while using his skilled hands to unclip the back of your bra. The bra also landed on the floor within seconds.

‘Lie down’ he whispered into your ear. You obliged and crawled onto the bed, facing him.

He loomed over you, climbing on to the bed as you scooted backwards further so that he could straddle your hips while you pushed up against him, wanting the rub and friction against you.

Cillian kissed you passionately as one of his hands moved in between your legs.

He could feel your body tensing up as he ran his fingers over the top of your panties

After all, he knew that it had been a while since you’ve been with anyone. He knew to take it slow and give you some reassurance.

‘Just relax’ he whispered into your ear with his thick Irish accent as he edged his fingers over the lace of your panties, his hand leisurely rubbing up and down the length of your squirming crotch, until he pulled your underwear aside and slipped two fingers inside of you.

You could feel your mouth widen and a loud moan escaped you as he teased the full mound of your clit. The stroke of his thumb was purposeful and steady on your firm, dripping pulse while his fingers plunged in and out of you, sinking further and further.

You held onto him tightly as the slipperiness he found made it easy for him to penetrate you with his fingers. You were so wet.

You shuddered at the pattern, shocked to find it could still stun you, unlocking newfound levels of moisture and desire, even when you began to meet the repetition of his thrusts. You naturally tilted and buckled beneath him.

As he was pushing his fingers in and out of you, he trailed kisses down your neck while your hands clutched at his shoulders, scratched down his back, held him tighter to you as I screamed into his skin.

Cillian’s breath grew more desperate and rugged.

‘It seems like we should take these off’ he said, causing you to nod with anticipation.

‘Don’t move’ Cillian ordered as he lowered himself on the bed while removing your lace undies.

Within seconds, Cillian’s lips were an inch away from your crotch, where he painted your inner thigh with tiny and soft kisses.

Cillian pushed your legs apart gently and you knew what would be next. You have read about this many times but this was the first time any man had gone down on you before and you were nervously biting your lip.

You tried hard to relax as Cillian’s lips finally reached your entrance, tasting the evidence of how much you wanted him.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as his head dove between your legs. His tongue prodded you softly, short licks against your clit.

Instantly, all restraint and reservations you had vanished. You were relaxed completely as his tongue danced and writhed inside of you.

With each skillful stroke, your thighs clenched. But you still needed more and he read you just right; he didn’t stop as you pushed yourself up the bed. Instead, he held you steady, causing you to look down at him and watching his eyes widen as they met yours, reacting to the rush of your wetness.

‘Cillian, oh god…you need to stop, I am so close’ you moaned, not wanting it to be over. You never came more than once so you wanted to feel him inside of you first.

‘That’s good, just let go’ Cillian said quietly with a grin before he continued and slid two fingers back inside of you while whirling his tongue over your clit.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, no matter how hard you tried. Your exhales began to emerge as deepening sighs and you leaned my head back and lived out the fantasy that had flashed through your mind all along.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned as your back arched and a rush of ecstasy flew through your body. You grabbed onto Cillian’s hair as he sucked every drip from you as your orgasm flooded your body.

As you came down from your orgasm, Cillian shuffled himself back up the bed, kissing you passionately.

You could taste yourself on his lips and you were ready for more.

‘I want to feel you’ you whispered after your lips drifted apart and while reaching for Cillian’s hard cock.

‘Do you have a condom?’ he asked, causing you to nod. You had purchased some before your Valentine’s Date, just in case you needed them.

You reached for the bedside table and opened the pack of condoms, handing one to Cillian.

Cillian was quick to get rid of his briefs and put on the condom, before positioning himself on top of you, in between your legs.

He shuddered a great rushing gasp of breath as he entered you. He couldn’t believe how good you felt, so tight.

You felt him push into you then, slowly and carefully, filling you completely.

‘Cillian’ you moaned as you held onto him tightly as he slowly began to move.

With every thrust, you gasped, whimpered, soft mewling noises, begging for more.

You felt him all the way to your belly button and screamed out with pleasure, your hands taking the heat as he thrusted fast and deep.

As he picked up his pace, you got louder, groans becoming moans becoming shouts, and the bed frame thumped against the wall, louder and faster and louder and faster.

‘Oh god, don’t stop’ you moaned, his skin slapping against yours.

‘You are so beautiful’ Cillian said in between his moans before pulling out of you slowly and lifting up your legs above his shoulders.

He knew exactly that, this way, he would be reaching your g-spot while he was fucking you.

You were slightly surprised by this position but were flexible enough to run with it.

As he entered you again slowly, you let out a loud moan.

‘Fuck’ you moaned in between the high-pitched noises that escaped you.

‘Does this feel alright?’ Cillian asked, wanting to ensure that you are comfortable.

You nodded eagerly and whimpered a shaky ‘yes’ as he continued to thrust into you. He was right at your g-spot and you could barely control yourself.

He slowly picked up the speed and you could feel another orgasm coming on as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g-spot over and over again.

‘Cillian, oh my god, don’t stop…’ you moaned as you held onto his arms tightly.

You began to shake heavily as your orgasm washed over you and tears of joy escaped your eyes.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian groaned loudly as he felt your walls tightening around him. The sensation coupled with the sounds you were making sent him over the edge and he almost came in sync with you.

As soon as he came, you released your legs from his shoulders and he collapsed on top of you, kissing you passionately.

You could still feel Cillian pulsing inside you when the sudden oddness of what you had done washed over you.

‘Are we ok?’ Cillian asked as he slowly pulled out of you and removed the condom, disposing of it discreetly.

‘I think so’ you said shyly.

‘Good…because I really enjoyed this’ Cillian said as he ran one of his hands over your cheek gently.

‘Me too…plus, I’ve got some inspiration for my book now’ you said cheekily.

‘I am glad to having been of assistance. Make sure you credit me in the end notes’ Cillian said jokingly.

‘Hmm, if I did, it may become a best seller…Sex Scene Inspired by Cillian Murphy’ you said with laughter, causing Cillian to laugh also.

‘I should better get home’ Cillian said as he was playing with your hair. He really didn’t want to leave, but he felt as though it was inappropriate for him to stay the night.

‘You can stay here if you like…’ you offered, but Cillian declined.

After all, this was supposed to be a one off. You are nothing more than friends, or are you?

You accepted Cillian’s decision to leave and weren’t upset by it. You enjoyed your time with Cillian and slept well that night, snugging up in the doona which smelled like his aftershave.

Finishing the Book

The next morning, you got up early to begin writing the intimate chapter of your book. This was the chapter you had struggled with for a while and you finally felt comfortable writing it. If readers would know that, in this particular scene of your book, you were basically reliving your night with your friend, Cillian Murphy, that would be scandalous.

So, you decided to make sure that no one would ever find out about your little adventure.

Unfortunately for you, your grandma seemed to have a good sense of what was going on.

She was on time as usual and dropped Max back at your house at 10am.

‘Had a good night my dear? I can see you are working on your book.’ She said.

‘Yes nan, the play last night was lovely. It has given me some inspiration’ you said.

‘The play has given you some inspiration to write about orgasms?’ your grandmother asked with laughter as she read the screen on your lap top.

‘Nan! Oh my god, don’t read what I am writing’ you said with embarrassment.

‘Oh dear, it’s alright. Believe it or not, I used to write novels myself with a little hint of filth now and then. But, somehow, I don’t think that it was the play that gave you the inspiration to write this little naughty chapter. By looking at the bruises on your neck, perhaps it was your friend Mr Murphy who gave you this inspiration?’ your grandmother said with sarcasm.

‘Nan, no Jesus, please’ you said as your face became flushed.

‘Don’t be embarrassed dear’ your grandmother said. ‘It is good for you. I mean, he is handsome and I saw the way you looked at him yesterday evening…and the way he looked at you’ your grandmother continued.

‘There is nothing between us nan, we are just friends’ you explained with total embarrassment.

‘Alright dear, whatever you say’ your grandmother said, not believing a single word that came out of your mouth.

‘I better go, I have lunch with Alma later… I love you my dear’ your grandmother said before heading out of the door.

‘Love you too nan’ you said.

WHO WANTS A SECOND PART OF THIS?

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy imagine #smut #fanfic

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed!

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face. The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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