#not everyone who turns on the kitchen light wants to be your friend. especially when i’m trying to LAY IN BED
3 Unions and Re-
Here’s a WIP I’m writing for Leif Surana, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, ten years after. Spoilers, and assumed knowledge, for Dragon Age: Origins and Inquisition.
In Leif’s continuity, Warden-General Loghain joins the Inquisition for Here Lies the Abyss, and stays behind in the Fade to save Inquisitor Isten and Champion Hawke. Leif melts down at Isten for this and Isten offers her a boon. When Leif returns (around the Arbor Wilds), she bears an experimental elixir developed to arrest the deterioration of the darkspawn taint and save Wardens from the Calling. The special ingredient is energy from Isten’s Mark. Leif’s second in command Rydan tries the elixir and it doesn’t go very well…
Leif Surana, Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, paced between the two beds in the small sunny room. Her heart had not yet tired of thumping. This room was tucked into a quiet corner of Skyhold. It reminded her of stories of madwomen locked in attics, raising haunts at all hours.
Striking fear into the hearts of ordinary Inquisitionlings. Ah, yes, she liked the sound of that.
Morrigan lay on one narrow bed, often mumbling things or arching her back and clenching her fists. She did not respond to shaking or yelling or light or arcane prods. Leif had tried. Morrigan was trapped in dreams, and had been since she had partaken of some Well of Sorrows. Some stupid body of water had done what a Blight could not. Now Leif couldn’t even get Morrigan to keep a blanket on. Morrigan curled to hug herself tightly over and over, and Leif tried to restore the blanket each time, just in case Morrigan felt cold wherever she was.
And the other bed…Rydan was developing stubble like he had avoided in his career. Her second in command lay perfectly still, his breath rising and falling with serene regularity. He had accompanied her to Skyhold to use Inquisitor Isten’s mark to activate an elixir meant to arrest the Calling of the Wardens. He had drunk it like a second Joining. Now he lay as though he had traded the Calling’s certainty of death for a restful unlife. The not knowing was the worst part.
She sat on a stool between them. She took up a book: Hearts and Hauberks. When she had asked around for something to read, the fabulous dwarf they called Varric had given her what he called a promotional copy of this new book. The warrior called Cassandra had threatened to confiscate it for standard censoring, but, intensely aware of her rank as a visiting dignitary, Leif had held her ground. Cassandra had jumped and pretended to be talking about something else when Varric passed by.
It was, so far, a strange read.
“He had seen sharks, but never had he seen such a beautiful one. The smoke coiled in the whorehouse lounge like the soup that fins may be made into. While she lived it was only angry broth.
“You think you’re too important to die.” Neif smiled with white teeth and he was surprised to learn that they were not pointy. “I do what I must for my people. And what I can to those who murder them.”
He reached for the comforting weight at his belt, which even innuendo could not make more intense.
“You won’t reach it in time,” she said icily. Shadows began to gyrate in the corner of the room.
“Well, shit,” he said. “But you haven’t thought of everything.”
“You, too?” it was a groan in the doorway. Leif jumped. There, blocking the light, was a tall man in a bulky coat.
“Cullen Rutherford,” Leif said, setting the book aside. “I heard you command the Inquisition’s forces.” There. That was all the conversation she wanted with the former Templar.
“It’s something to pass the time,” he said, touching his hair and grinning. He had a scar on his lip. “And you. Warden-Commander.”
“Like a regular Commander but with more darkspawn.”
“When the Wardens in Orlais began their blood magic campaign…I hoped it wouldn’t affect Ferelden. I almost wrote to you.”
That would not have gone well. The Inquisition had screwed with Leif’s life over and over; it seemed only consistent that they hire and promote the man who had been assigned to kill her if she didn’t pass her qualification exams. What next, did they intend to locate and hire Jowan? “If I had known, perhaps I could have done something.”
“Or perhaps you would have gone mad with the rest. In the end the best thing I could do for you was leave you alone.”
Well, hadn’t that been true since the day the Templars had hauled young Leif into Kinloch Hold? “Cullen, I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, just dead.”
“Leliana said you were still angry.”
She shut her eyes. She remembered their last conversation: a brief, intense argument about whether to kill the surviving mages in a Tower gone mad. Cullen had not gotten the better of that day. “The last time we spoke, you had a worse day than I did. I promise you, I know that. All right? They tell me you do a lot of good, and I’m happy for you.” Let no one say she couldn’t be civil.
“Morrigan speaks highly of you.”
“I cannot possibly have heard that right.” They had been friends, but a Morrigan friend was not the usual definition.
Cullen just grinned. It took years from his face. “She has asked about what you were like before she met you. I didn’t tell her.”
“That would only make her curious.”
“I know,” he groaned.
“I will let you know when she wakes.” She turned away.
“Of course. Um.”
She spun back. “Is it better? Commanding an army instead of guarding mages?”
“I do guard them. Against anyone who might hurt them.” He looked completely serious.
Leif’s heart twanged. To feel like he was protecting her instead of waiting for her to fail…wouldn’t that have changed both their lives? “Cullen, that is absolutely ass-backwards.”
He grinned again. “Tell that to Isten. She’s the one who made it work.”
“Isten doesn’t get to just adopt every lonely apostate who comes her way.”
“I think she thinks she can. I had better go, Leif. For what it’s worth…I hope your man wakes up soon. And I hope you end up exactly where you want to go.”
“Cullen, I’m not…angry, at you, specifically. I don’t know you well enough.”
“Talk to me before you leave. We could catch up, one commander to another.”
“Without the threat of Harrowing.”
“Equal footing. That’s a promise.”
“We live in a weird world.”
He left in a shaft of sunshine. Then, thinking fragmented confused thoughts about a circle that wasn’t lined with blades, she returned to her book.
That’s when the crossbow quarrel picked a fight with the glass tabletop. The glass lost, dramatically. Neif threw up a shimmering barrier that nearly took his valuables off. “This is not over,” she shrilled.
“Harris,” he ejaculated, and ran for the door.
He slammed the door like an avalanche that was also falling onto a door.
On the far side, battle descended like a castle kitchen falling down the stairs. Neif’s bodice strained as she spun from the rouge Lendiana’s embrace to shoot boiling lightning directly into her tormentor’s eyeballs.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” muttered Leif, but she kept on reading the story aloud in case Morrigan or Rydan could benefit from her voice. That was the only reason. She could put this down at any time.
As though summoned by her un-name, Leliana appeared in the doorway. Leliana, who was lovely and who represented not just the Inquisition but the Inquisition’s imaginary relationship with Leif herself. Its desire to absorb her as a contributing part to the whole. Just like they had absorbed Loghain, and killed him.
“Leif. How are—”
“If you need—”
Leliana crossed her arms over her chest. “You look as beautiful now as you did when we parted all those years ago.”
Leif boggled a little bit and let the book fall. “That’s not fair.”
“But you didn’t immediately shoot it down.”
Staying annoyed with whoever she was now seemed tricky. “Are you here to check on Morrigan? She hasn’t changed. She mumbles words and I recognize some of it as Elvhen…but I can’t do a complete sentence. I feel like I’m talking to a baby, only the baby is a bundle of ancient arcane powers and I’m the one who can’t get past ‘goo goo.’”
“Do you care?”
“He did a very brave thing, testing your elixir of Warden curing. If he lives and is cured, that changes what Wardens can do forever.”
“I know. And if I did it wrong, I have to give Avernus anything he wants to try a new formula.”
“‘Anything’ is a strong term,” Leliana said cautiously. “Especially for blood mages.”
The Inquisitor’s morality. “The Joining is blood magic. That’s where we started. There is no ‘down’ direction to go in.”
“I don’t think you ever believed that. It gutted you to sacrifice a life for Connor, and you fought for Amelia without considering the bribe. I always thought you resented demons assuming you could be bought. Though you always got close enough to give them a chance to surprise you. Not exactly what a trained mage should do.” Leliana smiled, then gestured at the fallen Warden. “Tell me about him?”
“Oh. Him.” Her heart seemed to steady itself for the first time all day. “The first time I spoke in private with him I thought he was sneaking off to have sex like a normal person, but he was actually going to a Fereldan recruit to practice eliminating his Orlesian accent. Because Loghain hated Orlesians and he didn’t want his background to sink his prospects. Seriously, imagine Loghain Mac Tir being fooled by a shaved-off mustache and a mid-career accent switch. Rydan is ambitious, and too energetic by half.” She took his cool hand and chafed it. “And stupidly brave. When he started experiencing the Calling…he is too young. But he volunteered to test the elixir.”
Leliana’s smile was knowing. “You’re still a little bit in love with everyone you admire.”
“That is a horrible thing to say to someone. You still think people like me have redeeming qualities.”
“Some of them. Sometimes you find them when I cannot. I have a proposal for you.”
What the Inquisition wanted. Leif reserved judgment. “What’s that?”
“I have a stack of correspondence regarding the Orlesian Wardens and where they’ve gone since the Inquisitor exiled them. I can give you access to that stack.”
“Yes,” said Leif. Maybe Isten had given up on them, choosing to scatter them to the winds rather than risk a second campaign of corruption…but Leif was a Warden first.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” said Leliana. “You are the ranking Warden in southern Thedas.”
“Oh, this is how you get me cooperating with the Inquisition.”
Leliana’s eyebrows rose. “I do?” she said sweetly.
“Like you didn’t start planning this the minute I got difficult.” Leif swallowed. “Make sure there’s a quill.”
“And all the ink you can spill. I know how you are when you get started.”
“Right now I just really need to interact with one of my people without getting them killed.” She had no idea how to pay this back. Maybe if she treated Leliana like an Inquisition cog. “I’ll let you know the moment Morrigan comes up.”
“Then I leave her in good hands.” Leliana looked at her. Leliana was not an Inquisition cog. “Rest,” she said gently. “When they wake, they will wake you.”
Leif verified Rydan’s serene breathing on the back of her hand. She picked up the blanket Morrigan had thrown off and gently tucked it around her shoulders. Then she sat between the sickbeds. She wasn’t sleepy.
Neif’s skirts swirled like an Orlesian ball, if an Orlesian ball was swinging a staff of blinding primal energy. Her voice boomed a harsh accompaniment. “I will teach you why the Blight is not the factor you should fear!”
“Oi, we don’t have to fight,” he yelled hoarsely.
She made a sexy little pout, lightning crackling dangerously around her generous knockers. “But don’t we want to?”
Leif didn’t realize anyone was there until the clear little voice spoke. “You struck the age in the center,” it said.
She turned and she knew the boy. He looked like his father, narrow eyes, dark straight hair. He looked like his mother, small sharp features, something of the wild thing about his arms and posture. He eyed her cautiously from the doorframe before sidling in.
“Kieran,” she said. “Do they not let you in?”
Kieran shrugged. “I sneak pretty good.”
She could sympathize. “I think they worry about people bothering her.”
Kieran frowned. “They let you in.”
“This is the most peaceful room in the castle, so they put my friend here. So I am here. And now you’re here too.” She studied him, and concluded that he was probably neither a witch nor a general. “I don’t think you’ll bother anybody.”
“You know my mother.”
“I used to.”
“She awaits the next age, as she waited for her moment in this one.” He squinched up his face and eyed Morrigan while she tossed and mumbled. “She’s sparky.”
A child with the soul of an old god. Leif really wasn’t sure what to expect. Her contribution to Kieran’s existence had ended after she’d convinced Loghain to sleep with Morrigan to conceive him. It was her sole interference in Loghain’s sex life and she still felt like a flesh peddler for it. But it had given Morrigan a beloved son. It had saved Loghain’s life, and given Leif ten years with him. She’d had no wish for any other second in command, Rydan’s ambition notwithstanding.
Morrigan tossed from one side to the other and burst a fluent but incomprehensible stream of words. Her brow knitted up and her voice ran guttural.
“Do you understand her?” said Leif.
Kieran tilted his head. Up close his eyes were more yellow than brown. “No,” he said. “Almost, but no. There is too much happening.”
“What do you see when you look at her?”
“Time hurrying. A cat. A dragon. Something really nasty with skin and fat everywhere. The castle from a mile up. Fire.” He twisted his hands behind his back. “More fire every time.”
Fear was a bad look on the child. “Did she teach you that sometimes plants need to burn back to go on living?”
“No. Is it true?”
“Yes.” She hoped.
Kieran nodded solemnly. “It’s supper time soon.”
“I take my meals here.”
“I have to go or Mother Gisele will try to get me.” Kieran scuffed the floor in shorthand for dread.
“I can tell anyone who comes here asking that you’re taking care of your mother with me,” said Leif. She would have to leave off the literature reading, but that was all right. She liked children, and she couldn’t have them. Besides, if she could stay with Rydan Kieran should get to stay with his mother.
Kieran peered at the book in her hand. “The Warden Neif doesn’t dress like you.”
Leif swallowed. “Maker’s breath, you read that?”
“I know how it ends.”
“Is it happy?”
The boy cocked his head and seemed to listen. “Yes,” he said.
She set aside the book. She squeezed Rydan’s cool hand and held still just a second, waiting for a reply. But there was only one interactive person here. “I could tell you other stories. About how your mother proved our cause to skeptics, and about the archdemon.”
“I remember,” he said.
“Help me tuck your mother in. There are details your soul never saw. Do you know how we got werewolves on our side?”
Cullen, who had grown up when she wasn’t looking. Leliana, deadly at any range. Kieran, who carried something of Leif’s best friend past that friend’s death. Morrigan, who had comforted her after that death. And Rydan, who was brave, and who had not been cured. There was still a chance, if she was patient and if she was good. If she didn’t give up on him.
Hearts and Hauberks fell aside, unneeded for a while. “Werewolves,” said Leif. She went on talking for the benefit of anyone who might be listening. A hard choice and not a cuddly one, that story. She was not a part of this holy Inquisition, no matter how close to the center she strayed.
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Merthur soulmate AU where they can always find each other:
Leon fulfils his self-appointed “older brother” role by helping them get away with it, and Morgana decides the son of her new guardian wasn’t so bad after all, if he came with such a great friend.
Part 2 Part 3
This was requested a little while ago, also Homophobia doesn’t exist in this world and maybe that’s unrealistic but I literally don’t care, let me have this.
Everyone has a soulmate. It’s a fact of life.
No one really knows quite how it works, only that it’s something magical, and has been around since before recorded history.
Everyone can find their soulmate. They feel a tug in their heart, that always pulls them in the right direction, no matter what. No matter what obstacles or distance separates them, they may always be united, they may always find their way home.
Soulmate bonds were the one piece of magic that King Uther left untouched when he started his purge, for he was bonded to Arthur’s mother, and despite his cruelty, he could never find it in himself to deprive others of such a feeling.
(Besides, they were so ancient and global, there’s nothing he could’ve done to destroy them; easier to save his pride and leave them be.)
Very rarely, only a few times in a century, a pairing will appear whose bond is so strong, the compass in their hearts works in a slightly different manner.
King Uther’s son, Prince Arthur, and heir to the throne of Camelot, was one half of such a special pairing.
The first time the Prince disappeared, he was five, and meant to be taking a nap.
This meant that his nannies hadn’t even noticed he was gone before he reappeared in his bed, and no one in the castle knew of his little adventure.
To say Hunith was surprised by the appearance of a very young, very blond child in her kitchen was an understatement.
The last thing she was expecting to see when she turned around from laying her three year old down for a nap, was a noble-looking boy, who definitely hadn’t been there moments before.
After she recovers from her shock, she glances over at the front door (still locked) before looking back at the child with concern. She took a step towards him, and crouched down before quietly speaking:
“Hi there sweetie, how did you get in here?”
Child!Arthur ignores her, instead taking a wobbly step towards Toddler!Merlin, and without looking away from him, asks:
Hunith is taken aback at that, and looks more closely at the child. He was clearly in sleep clothes, but they were made from expensive fabrics, and he looked chubby and happy and healthy, not like most young children around these parts.
She steps in front of Arthur again to try and catch his eye:
“Why don’t you tell me your name, and we’ll try to find your mum?”
Arthur looks at her only briefly as he pouts, before side-stepping again and regaining his line of sight to the dark haired toddler (still sleeping):
“Don’t have a mum. And dad’s busy. I wanted to find my person.”
Hunith tilts her head at that, but before she can ask what he means, Arthur finally looks at her properly, and begins speaking again:
“Are you my person? Or is it him? Nanny Marge says everyone has a person, and we can always find them.” he says it with confidence, and a self satisfied nod.
Hunith blinks, she knows all about soulmates, everyone does, but that still didn’t explain how the child had just appeared:
“Well, my name’s Hunith, and that’s my son, Merlin. Where are you from?”
Arthur yawns and stumbles towards Merlin, wrapped in blankets and laid in the corner. Hunith goes to grab him (Merlin was a fussy toddler, and it took forever to get him to sleep and she really didn’t want him to be woken up again.) but relaxes as Arthur sits cross-legged about a foot away from him, not ripping his gaze away for a moment.
He looks back up at Hunith sleepily, obviously starting to feel the effects of not napping:
“Mer-lin. I like that name. Like the birdy. I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot, son of King Uther.” He says the last part like it’s been rehearsed (it has) and Hunith stifles a gasp as she finally realises what’s happened.
Her old love, before he left, had told her of the rare pairings that appeared occasionally. The soulmates whose bond is so strong, they simply have to wish to be in the others presence, and they will appear there.
Truth be told, Hunith thought it was just a story. Soulmates are fairytale enough, but being able to appear at their side whenever you so wished? That was the stuff of love-stories and legend. Yet here stood a child, who claimed to be a Prince from another kingdom, who should be safely locked away in a castle several days journey from here. And all he seemed interested in, was Merlin.
Hunith wasn’t really sure what to do with this revelation. Not that she wasn’t glad her son had a soulmate, but her son’s soulmate was heir to a throne that would order a pyre for Merlin, even as a child. Merlin was floating spoons and lighting candles and knocking over cups before he could even crawl. Camelot was no place for him, at least not right now.
What if he accidentally did magic in front of the Prince? Would Arthur be scared, would he hate his own soulmate? Or would he not yet understand and tell someone accidentally? Would the King order his own son’s soulmate killed, if he found out?
Hunith shook the questions from her mind for now. Merlin was asleep, and she needed to figure out how to persuade Arthur that he needed to go back home:
“Arthur, that’s a lovely name. I know you want to find your person Arthur, but I think it might be best if you go home, before someone starts worrying, don’t you?”
Little Arthur yawns again, but pouts:
“I don’t want to go back. It’s so boring there, no one except Leon lets me play anything, and Leon’s busy.”
Hunith holds in a sigh, she can imagine life is difficult for an heir to the throne, especially with a father like Uther. She crouches down to his level again:
“I know sweetie, but you don’t want anyone worrying, do you?”
Arthur waits a moment before shaking his head forlornly. Hunith hopes she’s persuaded him, the only way he would go back is if he wanted to, she couldn’t force him. And she really didn’t want to have to journey back to Camelot on foot, and have to explain to the King why she had his son:
“No. I like Nanny Marge, and dad is always mean to her when she loses me.” Hunith frowns at that, but before she can say anything, Arthur stands on wobbly legs, and looks at her with determination:
He looks to Merlin again, and whispers his next few words, like he didn’t want to wake him:
“Bye Merlin. I promise I’ll come back-”
He looks back to Hunith again:
“Please can I come back? Leon says I should ask permission before going to someone’s home, so can I please please come back?”
Hunith worries her lip with her teeth at that, they were soulmates, she couldn’t exactly say no. But she also didn’t want to encourage the little prince to just disappear whenever he was bored:
“I... of course, Arthur, you’re more than welcome. But not too often, and not for too long, OK?” she tilts her head in question, and smiles when Arthur gives a decisive nod.
She holds in a smile as the Little Prince (what she had affectionately been referring to him as in her head) scrunched his face in concentration, closing his eyes. After a few seconds, he disappears with a pop and a few sparks, and she lets out a breath of relief, hoping that he had returned safely.
She stands still for a moment and blinks, seemingly trying to process all that had happened. She hums thoughtfully, before looking lovingly towards her son, and muttering to herself:
“I have a feeling that your future just got a lot more complicated, my love.”
For the next year, Arthur would pop in and out of Hunith’s house once a month or so. He only ever came when he was meant to be having a nap (the only time he was really unsupervised during the day).
Luckily, it would appear, that he and Merlin shared nap times; Merlin can’t accidentally expose his magic to the Little Prince if he was asleep every time he appeared.
Over the visits, Hunith learnt as much about Arthur as she could. He knew Gaius, which she was definitely relieved at (and sent a letter to him explaining everything the day she found out they knew each other). Someone in the castle knowing where Arthur had disappeared off to, if anyone ever noticed, would help.
She also found out who Leon was, the son of a noble, an aspiring knight-to-be, around twelve years old to Arthur’s six (both he and Merlin had birthdays at some point between visits), and that he seemed to be the only person around who allowed Arthur to have a little fun every once in a while.
After a little coaxing, she found that Arthur didn’t really know anything about his mother, only what Leon could remember, because Uther refused to speak of her (she thought that was a little heartbreaking, but hid it well).
Arthur kept his word, and never stayed for longer than ten minutes, but Hunith worried; she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold Arthur off for very long. He had visited around thirteen times, and Merlin had been asleep for every one of them.
Arthur would want to wake him up eventually, to actually talk to his soulmate, and who knows what Merlin would do.
Eventually, a few months before Merlin’s fifth birthday, Hunith sat him down and told him what had been happening. That he and his soulmate were very special, and that Arthur had been visiting whilst he was asleep.
To say that Merlin was excited was a vast understatement, and Hunith had to quell her panic when he asked if he could visit Arthur where he was:
“No Merlin, I’m sorry, you have to stay here, remember?-”
She frowns sorrowfully at Merlin’s pout and teary eyes, before schooling her face into a smile and continuing:
“But I promise, next time he visits, I’ll wake you up and you can play together, does that sound fun?-”
She chuckles at his excited nod:
“But only if you don’t use your gift sweetheart, Arthur might not be as good at keeping secrets as you or I am, so we’ll have to wait until he’s older, do you understand?” she whispers that, hoping that it would be easier to convince him if he thought of it as a fun game, instead of a life threatening secret.
Merlin thinks for a minute before nodding:
“Yes mama. No magic until he’s older.”
Hunith pats him on the head, taking a deep breath and preparing herself for Merlin to repeatedly ask her how long until Arthur visited.
So that’s how it goes for several years, Arthur visiting Ealdor when no one was paying attention, he and Merlin playing quietly, with no magic, for a while, before Arthur popped back home.
Hunith was grateful for the current simplicity, but she knew it couldn’t last. Merlin had been asking more and more if he could visit Arthur, and it was only a matter of time before he snuck off without telling her.
That, and the magic problem.
Arthur had spoken of his lessons, how according to everyone at home, magic was evil. Merlin always looked so sad at that, and Hunith was grateful for the fact that Arthur didn’t sound so sure. But she also knew that it was only a matter of time before Arthur was convinced by his father’s determined hatred, and she didn’t want to see the heartbreak on Merlin’s face.
The first time The Little Prince spoke of an execution, he was eight, and Merlin had just had his seventh birthday. Merlin cried as Arthur described it, and Hunith had to stop the anger at Arthur growing in her: it wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t exactly sound happy about it at all.
If anything, he seemed almost as upset as Merlin and when Arthur had noticed Merlin’s tears, he stopped talking immediately and bit his lip, looking to Hunith worriedly.
Hunith clenched her jaw before wrapping an arm around each of the children, and speaking to Arthur quietly as Merlin still sniffled:
“Do you think you can keep a secret, Arthur? A really big one, from everyone? Even Leon and your dad?”
He nodded vigorously, and Hunith gives him a weak smile before looking to Merlin, who stared back at her with watery eyes:
“Go on then Merlin, I think he’s old enough to know, don’t you?”
Merlin nodded this time, a little more hesitantly than Arthur, but he looks to his soulmate anyway.
Arthur stared back with wide, worried eyes, and gasped as Merlin all but whispered:
“I was born with magic. I am magic.”
Arthur looks scared for a split second, before he shuffles close to Merlin and taking his pudgy hand in his own. He thinks for a second, before looking at Hunith quickly, and then Merlin. He gives a firm nod as he says:
“I don’t care, and I promise not to tell anyone. If you have magic then it can’t be evil, and when I’m King, I’ll make sure everyone else knows that as well.”
Hunith lets out a sigh of relief, feeling like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders as Arthur’s short arms pull the three of them into a tight hug.
The first time Merlin disappears, is almost a year later. Arthur was nine, and Merlin was only a few days away from being eight.
During Arthur’s last visit, he had told them of a new addition to the castle, a sad, dark haired girl called Morgana, a year older than him.
He explained that something had happened to her parents, and his father had taken her in.
Merlin seemed concerned at that, and Hunith had a feeling that it would only be a matter of time before her son decided he wanted to help her (the boy was dangerously empathetic, he teared up at even the thought of other people suffering).
When she found the scrawled note on the table (Arthur had begun sneaking books with him, and he and Hunith would sit with Merlin, teaching him to read and write as best they could) with backwards letters and misspelt words, she almost panicked.
But she sat herself down and took a deep breath, knowing that Arthur had managed to keep the secret so far, and that Merlin could just reappear if he found himself in danger.
That didn’t stop her from scolding a sheepish Merlin when he returned half an hour later.
Arthur and Merlin had organised it on their previous visit. Arthur would make sure that he was locked safely in his room at a specific time, and Merlin could come to him for a change. Then Arthur could go get Morgana (and maybe Leon) so he could meet them.
Morgana had only been there for a month or so, and she had yet to warm up to Arthur. She was quiet, but had a sharp tongue when she chose to speak, not that that had put Arthur off quite yet.
He was still determined that they would be friends, and Merlin was great! So what better way to get Morgana to like him, than to introduce her to Merlin?
Merlin was overjoyed when he appeared in Arthur’s room, the bedchamber being larger that the footprint of his entire house back in Ealdor. The bed itself was what he found most impressive, it was so huge and soft! And there were so many blankets and pillows! Merlin quietly thought to himself that he should come here more often.
Arthur was nervous. Excited, but nervous. They’d known each other for years now, but this was the first time that Merlin was actually seeing his home. What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t want to be soulmates anymore, because he preferred his own home?
(”Although-” The Little Prince started to think, “if Merlin decided he wanted to stay in Ealdor, I think I would just stay with him. ‘Gana can do all my boring King stuff here, and I can go be a farmer with Merlin.”)
Those nerves disappeared the moment he saw the grin on Merlin’s face. Arthur showed Merlin where to hide, just in case, whilst he went to fetch Morgana. He had already told her he had a surprise, so it shouldn’t take too long to persuade her to follow him.
Arthur found her in a flower garden hidden round the back of the castle, she gave in and allowed him to drag her by the hand to his chambers with only minimal grumbling. She did however glare as Arthur pressed a hand over her mouth when she went to question why they were hiding from everyone who passed them in the corridors.
Eventually they were stood outside Arthur’s chambers, but before they enter, Arthur turns to Morgana and whispers conspiratorially:
“This is a secret so you have to promise not to tell anyone, kay? Not even Leon or my dad.”
Before Morgana could reply, she gasps, looking over Arthur’s shoulder with wide eyes.
Arthur turns and bites his lip as he sees Leon (now 15, and well into his initial Knight training) leaning against the wall casually, arms folded on his chest, and an eyebrow raised:
“What is it that no one is meant to be telling me, My Lord?”
Morgana stands in silence, hands folded in front of her, trying to appear as casual as possible as Arthur stutters:
“Oh... err... nothing Leon. I just wanted.... I wanted to show ‘Gana what I learnt on the piano this morning!” He hears Morgana huff behind him, she hated when Arthur called her that, and had said as much to him, but he didn’t seem to care.
Leon raises his eyebrow even further as he begins walking towards the two children:
“Is that so? Well why is that such a big secret? Don’t you want to show me too?”
As Leon stops in front of Arthur, towering over the boy, he puts his serious “I’m-potentially-about-to-tell-you-off-if-you-don’t-start-telling-the-truth” face:
“I... uhh... wanted it to be a secret! Until I get better! Then I can show you and dad!”
Morgana struggles not to mutter complaints at his terrible lying as Leon sighs:
“Arthur, what have we said about lying? It makes communication hard, and makes it difficult for people to trust you, and will only lead to problems later on. Would you like to try again?”
Arthur looks to the floor as he shuffles again, and Morgana feels just a little sorry for him. Not that she would say that.
Leon sighs once more and crouches to his level, forcing Arthur to meet his eyes. He gives the young prince a small smile as he speaks:
“If you don’t want to tell me Arthur, that’s fine. “It’s a secret for me and Morgana” is a perfectly acceptable answer. But lying isn’t. If you promise me that you aren’t doing anything naughty, then I’ll trust you, but I would feel better if another adult did know about it.”
Arthur looks up at him at that, surprised. His father would never accept Arthur keeping secrets from him. He replies quietly:
“It’s a secret for me and Morgana... and an adult does know about it... sort of. And it isn’t bad, I promise! Buuuuut-”
Arthur fiddles with his hands as he looks to his door briefly, before looking back at Leon:
“-if you promise to keep it a secret too, then you can see!-”
Arthur pulls his face into a scowl before continuing:
“-but ONLY if you promise!”
Leon hums exaggeratedly, and rubs his chin:
“Well... I promise to keep it a secret IF it isn’t naughty, or hurting anyone. How does that sound?”
Arthur’s face breaks into a grin and he nods, before opening his door and stepping inside. He quickly waves the others in and shuts and locks the door behind them, taking their hands in his own:
“You can come out now Merls, I’ve bought them!”
Leon and Morgana were astonished when a skinny, semi-grubby, obviously peasant-boy, came crawling out from under Arthur’s bed, and had to hold in gasps.
Merlin stands awkwardly as Arthur grins at him, and waves nervously to the new-comers:
“Hi... I’m Merlin. Me and Arthur are-”
Before he can finish, Arthur excitedly interrupts him:
“He’s my soulmate!”
The room is silent for a while, Merlin getting more nervous by the second, Arthur practically bouncing off the walls with excitement (and being oblivious to the awkwardness), Morgana being marginally surprised but taking it in her stride, and Leon... well... Leon was absolutely freaking out. But you wouldn’t know that from looking at him.
After only about a minute (but it feels like forever for Merlin), Leon stutters some words out:
“Arthur where did you.... why... where did you find this kid??”
Arthur looks to him in confusion as he stops jumping up and down:
“I told you. He’s my soulmate.-”
He puffs up his chest and puts his hand on his hips, looking extremely proud of himself as he continues:
“-I found him all on my own. I’ve been visiting him forever, but I wanted him to come here for once, so he could meet ‘Gana.”
Morgana breaks out her stupor at that, and looks at Arthur incredulously before looking back at Merlin:
“Hi, Merlin.” with a small smile, which Merlin returns.
Leon takes in a deep breath, wondering how the hell he was supposed to deal with this. The Prince had... kidnapped a commoner? Without anyone in the castle noticing?? What??? Nothing in his lessons trained him for this.
He shakes off his confusion and finally looks away from Merlin, and to Arthur:
“Wait... what do you mean you’ve been visiting him? When have you been going? And where?”
Arthur swayed on the spot, trying to look innocent:
“At the beginning I went when I was supposed to be napping. Then I would go when I was meant to be doing self-study. I only go once or month or so, and not for very long. Merlin’s mum is always worried about someone missing me.”
Leon takes another deep breath:
“Arthur... how did you sneak out without anyone noticing? And how did you get Merlin in?”
As much as Leon wanted to solve the problem of “there is a random commoner child in the prince’s room” thing, he was also greatly disturbed by the fact that two children, who hadn’t even hit double digits yet, had been sneaking in and out of what was meant to be a heavily fortified, guarded, castle, for years.
Arthur seems to have a realisation at Leon’s questions:
“OH! Like this!”
With that, he runs out the room, and Leon goes to follow him, but the prince manages to shut the door just before he got there.
Morgana is looking on all of this with mild confusion and shock, not really understanding what was going on, but happy to wait quietly and see what would happen.
Just as Leon goes to open the door, he hears a pop, followed by a voice from behind him:
“See!” Leon freezes and he hears Morgana gasp.
The teen turns around slowly, to see a grinning Arthur stood next to a cheerful looking Merlin:
“Uhh... Arthur, how did you do that?-”
Leon begins panicking, the only thing running through his head is “sorcery!” and whilst he would like to believe that Uther would never harm his own son, with the way he was going with the purge... there was no guarantee.
He rushes forward and grips Arthur’s shoulders:
“I need you to tell me how you did that, right now Arthur, it’s important.”
Arthur frowns as he replies:
“I told you. He’s my soulmate. I just have to want to be with him, and I can be. Merlin’s mum says it’s super rare, and that makes us special.” Morgana once again gasps at that before smiling, and speaking for the first time since she said hello to Merlin:
“I heard about that! Two of the nobles in my old home could do it. It IS rare, but sometimes soulmates can blink and be next to each other, if they wanted that!”
Arthur and Merlin nod enthusiastically at that, and Leon sags with relief, now that his mind and heart weren’t racing so much, he did remember briefly reading something about that during his studies. And if all of this was just soulmate magic... then they should be safe.
Though by the looks of the boy... probably still best not tell Uther about it. He doubts the King would be pleased about his son being bonded with a peasant.
Leon turns his attention to Merlin:
“-You said your name was Merlin? Does someone know that you’re here?”
Merlin nods as he replies:
“I left a note for my mum. But I can’t be too long though, or she’ll worry.”
Leon looks surprised at that:
“You can read and write?”
“I taught him!” comes proudly from Arthur.
Leon nods again and re-locks the door behind him, before gesturing at everyone to sit on the soft rug together.
After establishing that Merlin had only arrived just before Arthur went to fetch Morgana, Leon says that they can sit and talk for another 15 minutes or so before Merlin had to go home.
Arthur pouted at that, but a look from Leon stopped him before he actually complained. Morgana and Leon spent the time asking questions about Merlin: where he was from, and how old he was, and about his family.
Merlin was shy at first, but Arthur had been talking about Leon forever, and Morgana seemed nice, even if she did look a bit sad sometimes.
After their time was up, everyone gave Merlin a quick hug, and Arthur promised he’d try to pop over at some point next week (Leon definitely had to stop the momentary panic at that).
Merlin disappeared with a pop, and Arthur made Morgana and Leon promise not to tell once more. Once they promised, they each wondered off Morgana to an afternoon lesson, Leon to s training session, both deep in thought.
Arthur smiled to himself. He didn’t like keeping things from Leon, because he was the only one around who was any fun, and Morgana had definitely seemed happier. So his plan succeeded!
It continued like that for some time. Arthur was the one who went to Merlin’s most often, but occasionally Merlin would go to him.
Morgana slowly started cheering up, recovering from her grief, and the three of them (almost always overseen by an always-worrying Leon) loved spending time together, and playing in the safety of Arthur’s chambers.
Thankfully, Uther never questioned it, happy that his son and his new ward seemed to be getting along finally.
The first time Merlin woke crying from a nightmare that was filled with smoke and fire, he was twelve.
He appeared in Arthur’s room within seconds, wanting nothing but the comfort of having his soulmate next to him, and Arthur woke to the quiet sniffling of a distraught Merlin perched on the end of his bed.
Before he’s even fully awake, he has him wrapped in a hug, and is stroking his hair in an effort to calm him.
There may not be guards stationed outside his rooms during the day, but there were at night, and would be until he turned 18 (still four and a half years away), so they needed to be quiet.
They fall asleep curled up next to each other, clutching hands, and Merlin sleeps through the rest of the night without a problem. (They both wake with a start as a servant knocks on the door the next morning, and after the quickest hug they’ve ever shared, Merlin pops away, back to his own bed.)
That begins to happen more and more often, and after a couple weeks, Merlin is sleeping in Arthur’s bed most nights.
He isn’t quite sure if he sleeps so much better because the bed is worth more than his entire village (it’s so comfy!), or if his magic is more relaxed with Arthur by his side, but either way, the nightmares stop almost entirely.
Hunith realises fairly quickly what’s going on, and does worry briefly if going to the place his nightmares took place in was the best, but Merlin seemed happier, and less tired, and once he promised to always be back before the servants came into Arthur’s room, she was a little more ok with it.
(She also made Merlin and Arthur swear to tell Leon, just in case. She hasn’t met Leon of course, but the boys talk about him and Morgana constantly, and she was grateful that the boys had someone other than Gaius (who hadn’t actually met Merlin yet) to look out for them. At this rate, Leon wouldn’t be surprised if all of this caused him to have a heart attack before he was even officially knighted. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.)
Once Arthur finally persuades Merlin to tell him what his nightmares are about, he’s horrified. It’ll be then that Arthur will begin to be more vocal about his objection to the executions, and ask questions about magic. Uther always punishes him of course, but Arthur just learns to hold his tongue instead.
Merlin cries, Morgana smiles widely, and Leon is speechless, when Arthur tells them that:
“When I’m King, magic will be everywhere! Of course people will have to be careful with it, but in the same way us knights have to be careful with swords. Isn’t that right, Leon?”
Leon goes pale at that, and takes a few moments to respond:
“Right... well. Just.... make sure you do your research Arthur, and that you know all the facts, and do NOT, no matter what, ever tell your father about this. Do you understand?”
Arthur nods glumly. He’s tried to change his father’s mind in the past, and it got him nothing but bruised knuckles and an hour long yelled lecture and extra training hours with the knights.
Leon looks to a sniffling Merlin next, and asks him what’s wrong. Arthur holds in a worried gasp, and Morgana raises an eyebrow (even at 14, she was incredibly observant and smart, she knew what was up).
Merlin grabs Arthur’s hand, but looks up at Leon through thick eyelashes, and mumbles so quietly, Leon barely hears it:
“Promise you won’t get mad? Or hate me?”
Leon has a bad feeling that he knows where this is going, but he puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder and gives him a soft smile:
“I could never hate you Merlin, promise.”
At that, Merlin bites his lip, and glances at Arthur quickly, before looking to the fire in the hearth. Leon furrows his brow in confusion, and Morgana hides an excited smile as Merlin mumbles under his breath:
“Give me a dragon.”
Leon gasps and takes a step back as the flames flutter, as if blown by a strong wind, before morphing into a miniature dragon.
The royal sorta-siblings look on in wonder as Merlin screws his face in concentration, eyes glowing golden, and Leon stares, speechless.
After a few minutes of the dragon flying around the large fireplace, it fades back into the flames again. Morgana whispers under her breath:
“That was amazing!” and Arthur smiles proudly as Merlin takes in deep breaths. He’d never held it that long before, and it had worn him out slightly.
He looks back to Leon (who is still staring dumbly at the fire) and furrows his brows in worry:
“You did promise... you’re not scared of me are you?” He looks close to tears again, and the tremble in his voice grabs Leon’s attention once again.
The older teen gathers the three of them in a tight hug, before whispering (worried someone would hear, even though they never have before):
“Of course I’m not scared of you, Birdy (an affectionate nickname, started by Morgana, and picked up by everyone else, much to Merlin’s chagrin), you just have to promise to be careful. I promise to try my best, but if someone else finds out I probably won’t be able to protect you, Ok?”
At that he pulls back, but grips Merlin’s shoulders tightly, worry written all over his face. When Merlin only nods infinitesimally, Leon shakes him ever so slightly, and gives him a desperate look:
“OK??” Merlin nods more vigorously, and mutters out an “I understand, Leon.”
Leon lets go and sighs, looking to the floor and fiddling with his hands hidden behind his back (one of the many rules he learnt growing up as a noble: fidgeting is a sign on weakness).
He takes in a fortifying breath and moves his hands to his sides before looking out the window, noticing that it’s almost dusk and looking back to the three children with a smile:
“You best get home Merlin, it’s getting late and I don’t want your mum to worry. Same time next week, ok? Next time we see each other, I’ll be a knight.” He says it with a grin, and smiles light up on the other’s faces as well. They were young, but they knew how much this meant to Leon, especially Arthur, who was about a year into his training.
Merlin gives everyone a quick hug, lingering a little longer on Arthur (like always) before stepping back, and disappearing with a pop.
The secret is revealed when Merlin is 15 (Arthur being 16, Morgana being 17, and Leon being 22).
The four of them had agreed a next meeting time, like normal, though they were having to be far more careful. With Arthur being older, he was being saddled with more and more responsibilities. His training hours and lessons were longer, he was expected to travel away from the city more, and he shadowed The King whilst he undertook his duties for the rest of the day.
Uther had mentioned Arthur’s soulmate in passing a few times (that always incited a hidden smirk from Morgana, and a nervous gulp from Leon, if he was around).
But Arthur always managed to derail the conversation and avoid the topic by saying something along the lines of “Finding my soulmate is important to me father, but not as important as learning to be the best King I can be for the kingdom. I feel the pull everyday, but until I am steadfast in my abilities and duties, it will remain unimportant to me.”
Uther always looked partially sad at that, he had loved Arthur’s mother, his soulmate, very much. But mostly he is proud at Arthur’s confidence and determination and loyalty.
If only he realised that Arthur was lying through his teeth, and had decided when he was incredibly young that he would happily hand all of it over to Morgana, in order to lead a simpler life with Merlin.
The next meeting time had been agreed. But bandits had been sighted causing trouble a few hours outside of the city, and Arthur was called to attend an emergency council meeting.
The page didn’t leave his side for a second, leading him straight to the council-room, meaning that Arthur couldn’t pop away for even two seconds to warn Merlin not to come.
He just had to hope that the meeting was over quick, and he could escape somewhere solitary before the young Warlock came around.
He was so close.
He paid close attention during the meeting, making excellent suggestions and being generally helpful, in an effort to speed things along. This backfired in a way he didn’t quite expect.
The meeting ended, knights sent to deal with the problem in the manner decided, and councilman heading back to whatever it is they did when not in meetings (at this point Arthur still doesn’t know, and is too afraid to ask).
The Prince had almost made it out of the door before Uther called him back in. He halts in the doorway, and Morgana, ahead of him in the hallway, looks back, giving him a fearful look and mouthing “Give him an excuse! Hurry!”
Arthur turns back to the room (now devoid of everyone but The King and himself):
“I apologise father, but I was in the middle of-”
Uther gives him a stern look, and crooks a finger towards himself:
Arthur schools his face, appearing blank, as he re-enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He stands to attention in front of his father, and figures this is just another part of the meeting he would have to hurry along.
He glances at the shadows on the wall quickly, he should have another few minutes, as long as Merlin didn’t get too excited and appear earlier than he’s meant to.
“I wanted to congratulate you today Arthur. You did very well-”
He places a hand on his son’s shoulder and smiles hesitantly:
“-I... I’m proud of you. You’re learning well, picking things up quickly. You understand the workings of court and council near fluently now, and Sirs Kay and Leon tell me that your combat training is going astoundingly.”
Arthur’s resolve crumbles a little at that, and he almost forgets his desperation to leave the room:
“I... thank you, father. I’m trying my best to do you and the kingdom proud.”
Uther nods firmly at that and removes his hand, stepping back, the tender moment over as quickly as it had begun:
“Good. You are dismissed for the day, go back to your studies.”
Arthur struggles to hold in a relieved sigh as he bows briefly before turning around and almost rushing towards the door. He is too late however, and just as he reaches for the doorknob, he hears the tell tale pop sound from behind him. He freezes as he hears:
“Arthur, where the hell-” quickly interrupted by his father roaring:
“WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?! GUARDS!”
Arthur rushes to turn around and grabs Merlin’s hand, pulling him to the side as guards burst through the door he was just stood in front of.
All of them raise swords at the terrified boy that Uther was pointing at, and Arthur quickly positions his body between them and Merlin:
“NO! Don’t hurt him! Please!”
Morgana rushes in just moments after the guards, and spots the boys immediately, stepping around the knights and standing next to Arthur defiantly. Uther looks affronted before yelling, red-faced:
“What is the meaning of this? Explain yourselves this instant, and get away from that beast!”
Morgana tightens her jaw as she takes Merlin’s other hand protectively in her own. She can feel him shaking, but knows he is too scared to just disappear again. She’s secretly grateful for that. If Merlin disappeared now there would be a manhunt and demands of explanations. The King might believe them if they can show him the truth (the same way the boys had shown her and Leon all those years ago).
“Please father, just listen. Merlin is my soulmate, it isn’t sorcery, we simply have a bond stronger than others-”
At Uther’s still-angry snarl, Arthur straightens his back, and takes in a breath, standing still and strong:
“You will NOT harm him. I would lay down my life before you lay a hand on him.” The guards falter a little at that, but still keep their swords raised.
Arthur hears Merlin take in a shaky breath at that, and squeezes his hand slightly. Morgana nods her agreement and Arthur gives her a brief, grateful smile as she says confidently:
“The same goes for me, if you wish to harm Merlin, or separate him from Arthur, you will have to order your guards to strike me down first.”
Uther lets out a growl at that:
“Soulmate or not, he used sorcery to appear out of thin air. That is treachery!”
Arthur huffs before shouting back:
“NO! Just ask Gaius, or Geoffrey. Occasionally, there are soulmates whose bond is stronger than normal, just ask Gaius-”
Arthur gives Uther his own growl as he continues:
“-And like I said. I would challenge you yourself, before I allowed anyone to hurt him.”
Uther slumps slightly and narrows his eyes at his son before telling one of the younger guards to fetch Gaius and Geoffrey immediately. He does however tell the other guards to keep their swords trained on the boy, and Merlin almost takes a frightened step back, only stopped by Arthur and Morgana, who hold him steady.
Arthur and Uther remain in a hard staring contest for the few minutes it takes the guard to return, Gaius and Geoffrey in tow.
Gaius glances at Merlin in surprise, but covers it quickly as he returns his gaze to The King as he growls:
“Tell me all you know of soulmate bonds.”
Geoffrey speaks first, confusion in his tone:
Uther levels a glare at him as he yells:
Geoffrey is taken aback, but replies immediately:
“Well My Lord, everyone on this earth has a soulmate, someone whose soul is bound to your own. The bonds provide a compass of sorts, meaning that one can always tell what direction their soulmate is, and, with practice, roughly how far away they are. No one is certain of how these bonds come about, though centuries of research show that they aren’t harmful in anyway, and other than incredibly rare, extreme, cases, the two whose souls are bonded are a perfect match for each other; bound to fall in love-”
Gaius jumps in here:
“And in even rarer cases, My Lord, a pair may appear whose bond is so strong, they have further... abilities. This pair of souls will be able to appear to each other at will, only needing to wish to be in the other’s presence. They are also able to disappear again, but may only transport themselves to the position they were before. Academics are even more perplexed as to how these bonds are forged, though the only known pairs with such a bond have all gone on to achieve great things.”
Gaius resists the urge to look towards the three teenagers, and keeps his placating gaze on The King, who does seem to be calming slightly. Uther looks to Geoffrey for confirmation, and the librarian nods, adding:
“It is incredibly rare sire, but possible, and proven.”
Uther is considerably less angry now, but the guards don’t relax, and neither do Arthur or Morgana as The King speaks again:
“How would one prove such a bond, and differentiate it from sorcery?”
Gaius jumps to answer this question, trying to keep control of the situation:
“Well one could simply ask for a demonstration-”
He gestures to the teenagers still huddled to the side:
“-I’m assuming that these...?-”
At Uther’s stiff nod, he continues:
“-might I ask Prince Arthur to leave the room, the door shut behind him, and demonstrate his ability?” Uther looks angry for a moment, and Morgana tightens her hold on Merlin as he takes in a scared gasp. After a few moments of deliberation, The King looks to his son and gives a slight, but firm, nod.
Arthur gives Merlin a quick smile, and reluctantly lets go of his hand before saying:
“I’m only leaving him if the guards sheath their swords, and step back-”
Uther goes to interrupt him, but Arthur continues harshly:
-And THAT, is final.”
Uther gives a nod once more, and the guards cautiously put their swords away. Arthur nods at Morgana, and she takes his place directly in front of Merlin as he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Morgana can feel Merlin shaking behind her, but she grits her teeth, and squeezes his hand. She meant what she said, she would force the guards to cut her down before she allowed them to hurt her friend.
A second later, she hears the tell tale pop, and smirks slightly at the astounded look on Uther’s face, not having to look to know that Arthur was now stood behind her.
Uther still looks slightly disbelieving, but before he can say anything (or God forbid accuse his son of sorcery) Gaius speaks up:
“I have both ancient and modern literature on the subject My Lord, if you would like to read about it.”
Uther lets out a sigh, and purses his lips before looking to the physician:
“Very well. Have them ready for me tonight. Everybody out! I wish to talk to my son and this... boy.”
Gaius throws one last glance to the three teenagers, before shuffling out the room, closely followed by Geoffrey and the guards. Morgana stays in place.
Uther looks exasperated before saying:
“That includes you, Morgana. Out-”
Morgana interrupts him angrily:
“No. I will not leave. Merlin may be Arthur’s soulmate, but he’s my friend as well. I won’t allow you to hurt him, or speak down to him.”
Uther looks enraged once again, but Arthur speaks before he can start yelling again:
“I shan’t talk about it unless Morgana is allowed to remain, father. She has been nothing but loyal and protective of Merlin, and as his soulmate, I appreciate that greatly. She stays.”
Arthur thought about demanding that Sir Leon be summoned as well, but he didn’t want to get the man into trouble, he had already done so much for them. And besides, Arthur is fairly certain that if he continues to order his Father around like this, he’ll lose his temper once more. There’s only so many demands someone can make of the King before context becomes unimportant, and it becomes a matter of pride.
Uther grits his teeth once more before nodding, and muttering out a quiet “Fine.”.
The King straightens himself, and regains his regal composure before speaking once again:
“Merlin, was it? Bring yourself forward, boy.”
Morgana goes to argue, and Arthur looks insulted, both about to retort against the tone and choice of words, but before they can say anything, Merlin pushes between them, to face Uther head on.
He gives a small bow, but maintains eye contact, and speaks once he raises again:
“Yes sire, my name is Merlin.”
Uther scowls as he looks him up and down, and Merlin can feel Arthur and Morgana fuming either side of him.
“You look like nothing but a farmer. I will not have my son and only heir, bonded to a peasant.”
Merlin goes to retort at that, indignant at having his worth as a person lowered by his class status, but before even Arthur can speak up, Morgana steps forwards angrily:
“I told you, I will not allow you to speak down to him. Merlin is a wonderful person. Kind, and compassionate, and wise beyond his years; he’s twice the man most of your so called nobles are, you will treat him with the respect he deserves, or the three of us will leave right now.”
Merlin is taken aback at that. I suppose because it’s only ever been the three of them, and Leon, he’s never really seen Morgana angry. Sure, he’s listened to her rant about the unjustness of Uther’s laws, but never anything like this. The display of somewhat aggressive protectiveness from her definitely makes him tear up a little.
Uther’s face turns red at her demand, and he looks about ready to kick off again, but Arthur steps forward, in line with Morgana (once again, leaving Merlin protected behind them):
“As she said father. Merlin is my soulmate, whether you like it or not. I will not leave him, we will not be separated, and that will never change. If you can not speak to him respectfully, then you won’t speak to either of us at all.”
Merlin takes Arthur’s shoulder and pushes himself forward again before saying quietly:
“Arthur, no, he’s your father. I don’t mind, it’s fine, maybe I should go?”
Arthur doesn’t look at him, but takes his hand wordlessly, gripping it tight as he glares at Uther (who looks slightly taken aback at the offer).
Morgana once again takes Merlin’s other hand and says:
“No. We’re resolving this now, and The King is just going to have to come to terms with the fact that someone’s status does not define their worth.” She looks pointedly at Uther at that, and the older man sighs, rubbing his eyes slightly, before gesturing to the council table:
“Fine. Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, take a seat, and we shall discuss how we plan to move forward.”
END OF PART 1
Part 2 is up! Part 3 is up!
Let me know what y’all think :)
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study date (peter parker x reader)
summary: You love your best friend in more ways than one but you still find it hard to admit your school struggles to him, especially when he’s as smart as he is.
a/n: I accidently turned this into a trouble with school fic and Peter being a sweetie but its still best friends to lovers haha. MCU spidey but doesn’t follow canon so everyone is alive and happy :)
warnings: mentions of failing/bad grades and small mention of food. This is college aged Peter Parker, Very cheesy bc im still kinda finding my footing in the peter parker fic world
School wasn’t always your friend. Actually it never really was. Once naptime and coloring stopped being a part of the curriculum you didn’t really find it enjoyable. It’s not like you were bad at school. You just had to study a little harder sometimes and that’s okay.
Though you did envy the ones who could pass a test without even trying. One of those people being your best friend Peter. Having grown up with him since, well it feels like forever.
Living in the apartment next to him and Aunt May you became fast friends. Going to the same elementary, middle, and high school together. Even with the addition of new friends like Ned and MJ the two of you remained close. Once graduation came around you were heartbroken to learn you would be going to separate colleges.
It wasn’t surprising.
With how smart Peter was and with a little help from Tony Stark himself, Peter was able to get into the best school in New York. Peter was your biggest fan and your source of motivation after a bad test so being without him in a classroom was going to suck.
You didn’t get to see him as often as you used to but he always tried to make time for you. Lunch dates and the weekends he would spend at home were the best moments. Despite being at different schools he was still your best friend.
Which is why you felt comfortable sharing the slightly embarrassing issue that has risen in your school life.
“Failing? How are you failing?” His voice raises an octave as you bring your hand to his mouth. His eyes widening as he looks around nervously, not realizing how loud he was.
“Gee thanks Pete, really wanted the whole cafe to know that I’m failing a class.” You grumble as you take your hand away.
He gives you a sheepish look as he waves at the waitress who was giving the two of you a strange look.
“So are you gonna answer my question?” He asks quietly. Sighing you play with the straw of your drink. Peter reaches out and grabs your hand, a kind but worried look on his face.
“It’s nothing really. I go to the lectures and I do the homework but I just..” Pulling your hand away from his you rest your head in your hands.
“I just don’t get it.” You admit.
Peter was one the least judgmental person you’ve ever met but sometimes you felt silly admitting the small things to him. Especially your school problems. He never tried to make you feel less smart but sometimes it just happened. Peter was basically a genius and you never felt like bothering him for help on your physics homework.
It felt like a waste of time and honestly, you felt a little embarrassed showing him your grades when he was top of your class. He’d never tease you about them but you still disliked seeing that awkward look on his face when he tried to hide his A+.
“Have you talked to your professor? Is it too late to get your grade up?”
“I have time, he said he’ll match my previous midterm grade with my next one if I get a B or higher. It’s not an impossible task but I would need a tutor.” The waitress comes by and drops off your check which you’re grateful for as it gives you a chance to change the topic.
“Anyways Peter, how are your classes going?” Peter eyes you suspiciously, clearly wanting to keep talking about you but he notices your eagerness to move on so he relents for now.
“Pretty boring, I mean with working for Mr. Stark I feel like I kinda already know most of this stuff.” You could tell he was trying to keep it any talk of his job on the down low.
Despite how incredibly smart he was Peter was never one to brag about it. Putting down a tip you stand up and sling your backpack over your shoulder.
“It was great seeing you Peter, I’ll see you this Friday for movie night right?” You ask to which he nods happily.
Movie night was a tradition he never missed unless it was, as Peter phrased it, a super important Mr. Stark project, which was code for a mission. Pulling him into a quick side hug you wave goodbye and head back to your place.
“Wait!” You hear his familiar voice calling out to you. Turning around you see him jogging up to you.
“How about I tutor you? I mean getting a tutor must be hard and I’m free this weekend and I’m um, good at physics. Only if you want to I mean.” He seemed almost nervous at his suggestion but your laugh puts him at ease.
“You’d really do that for me?” He smiles and throws his arm around your shoulder.
“Of course I would, besides I always love spending time with you.” You duck your head down as you fight the lovestruck smile forming on your lips.
“Alright come early on Friday so we can go over some stuff.” Peter sticks his thumb up and smiles.
“Bye Y/n!” Peter’s smile was contagious as he and heads off towards his place.
“Stay safe Pete!” You call out. He turns and waves, accidentally running into a light pole.
“I’m good!” He calls quickly as he rubs his cheek.
Your heart flutters as you watch him disappear into the crowd. You hate that feeling, those stupid butterflies in your stomach caused by your best friend. You aren’t sure when you first noticed Peter as anything other than your best friend but maybe you’ve been falling in love with him all these years. But he’s just your best friend and that is good enough for you. As long as you get to keep him in your life you didn’t have to be his girlfriend.
Friday rolled around and Peter was late. Textbooks and notes littered your bed as you attempt a practice problem. A loud knock on the door catches your attention followed by Peters’s voice.
“I am so sorry, I lost track of time in Starks lab he has like, no clocks in there.” His hair’s a bit messy and guilts written all over his face.
“Don’t worry Peter, I started studying a few hours ago and my brain is melting, come on let’s watch a movie!” Grabbing his hand you lead him into your room. He plops down on your bed and takes a look at your notes as you head to the kitchen to prepare snacks.
“I’m making popcorn what do you want to drink?” You say walking back into your room.
Peter’s eyes are trained on your failed homework assignments and practice problems you gave up on long ago. When he meets your eyes you see the disappointment which is exactly what you wanted to avoid but there was also a hint of sadness. Grabbing the papers out of his hands you shove them in the trash.
“Coke like usual?” You say trying to avoid his stares.
“Y/n..” he says softly, patting the space next to him.
“Don’t talk to me like that.” you snap, immediately regretting it as Peter’s face falls.
“You know I could help you, I really don’t mind honest. The concepts seem hard at first but once you get the hang of it it’s a piece of cake.” You scoff and sit beside him. Staring down at your hands you let out a long sigh.
“Easy for you to say, You’re like this super genius, Peter.” You smile sadly as you look to Peter who was clearly troubled by this still. Falling back in your bed you push off one of your textbooks.
“I try really hard. I do all the practice tests and I take my notes and I even watch youtube videos but it just doesn’t click. I’m just stupid.” You mutter sadly as you crumple up an old homework assignment.
“Hey that’s not true at all.” Peter says as he lays on his stomach next to you, propping himself up on his elbows. “Your essays are way better than mine, you’re literally one of the smartest people I know.”
“Peter you literally work for Tony Stark.” He shrugs and shoves a notebook off your bed so he could rest his head next to yours.
“I said one of. Besides being smart isn’t the only good thing about you though, you’re kind and funny, you’re caring and you have the best taste in movies.” Peter nudges your shoulder making you smile.
Turning your head you can’t help but admire his handsome face. Peter had only gotten more handsome as you grew older yet his boyish charm remains. He’s still that sweet, nerdy boy at heart. Peter takes your hand and squeezes it lightly.
“Thank you Peter,”
“There are so many good things about you Y/n, so many things I fell in love with.” Your eyes widen at his confession but Peter just feels relieved.
He’s been keeping it inside him for so long, this seemed like the perfect moment. He leans closer and cups your face, your heart beating out of your chest as he gets closer.
“I’m sorry to drop this on you but it just kinda, slipped out. I really, really like you and I know its so cliche to fall in love with your best friend but-“ You cut his rambling off with a kiss.
Tugging on his brown curls you pull him down to deepen the kiss. One hand keeps him propped up while the other finds its way to your face, brushing your cheek softly as he finally gets a taste of your sweet lips.
“Woah,” is all Peter can say as you slowly pull apart. A dopey smile on his face as he silently wishes for another kiss.
“Yeah, woah.” You giggle as you brush some of his hair out of his face.
“I really like you too Peter,” The words slip out with ease. It feels like a massive weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
“I mean I hoped so, after that kiss.” Rolling your eyes playfully you sit back up. Your eyes travel to the trash can filled old papers. Peter wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder.
“Hey, I promise by your next midterm you’re gonna have an A+++”
“Peter that doesn’t even exist.” You giggle as you feel him press a kiss to your cheek.
“Don’t care, you’ll get one.” He says happily as he continues to pepper small kisses along your face and neck.
“I’m sick of school talk, can we just watch a movie?” You ask softly to which Peter agrees to instantly. You get up to get the popcorn you both forgot about but Peter quickly pulls you back into his arms.
“Mm I don’t need popcorn, just wanna hold you a bit more.” A wide smile breaks on your face as you shift to lean against his chest.
“You’re such a dork.” You mumble into his neck, trying to hide just how flustered he makes you.
“Yeah I know, but you love me for it.” He teases as he throws on a movie.
Pulling a blanket over the two of you he leans back on your pillows, letting you relax in his arms. His heartbeat sending you into a comfortable state as you lean your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his. Taking in the feeling of finally having Peter as something more than just a friend.
“Yeah, I really do.”
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kissing strangers ~ pete davidson
word count: 2522
“Can you do a story where the reader is at New Year's Eve and she wants to kiss someone and she kisses a random man she finds out it's Pete Davidson after?”
description: in which she’s single for the first time in years and decides to kiss the first person she sees at midnight on new year’s eve
pairing: pete davidson x female!reader
warnings: swearing, alcohol usage
masterlist (one, two)
Why did I think this would be a good idea? you thought to yourself as you looked around at your fellow partygoers.
Your best friend had convinced you to come to a New Year’s Eve party thrown by someone you didn’t even know. Your boyfriend of five years had broken up with you just a few days before (between Christmas and New Years, perfect timing), and all you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry. Your friend, however, wanted to get you out of the house, even if it was just for one night.
“I’ll be by your side all night,” she had promised. “I won’t leave you alone at all.”
That lasted all of ten minutes.
The moment you walked through the door, the host of the party whisked your friend away. She called over her shoulder that she would come find you soon. That was roughly three hours ago and you were still stood in a corner all by yourself, watching your fellow partygoers having a much better time than you.
There were too many couples sitting or dancing together, grinding or making out. They were all basically one step away from fucking right there in front of everyone. If it wasn’t couples, it was single people attempting to hook up with anything that moved.
Being what felt like the only single person in the room made you regret coming. You found yourself even becoming angry at this thought and wanting to leave. But you were already two drinks deep and you were sure your friend was more than shitfaced at this rate. So, instead of leaving or sitting there and continuing to feel angry, you decided to follow her lead and get completely obliterated.
You down your next two drinks in quick succession, and did a few shots with a group of very drunk people that were in the kitchen when you went for your third. By the time you had gotten halfway through your third drink, you could barley see straight and your stomach was starting to churn.
You went outside for some fresh air, nearly sighing with relief when the cold air hit your face. You hadn’t realized how stuffy it had gotten inside until that moment.
You were leaning on the railing of the balcony, two couples standing on either side of you, already getting started on their midnight kissing. You cringed at the very public displays of affection, but also secretly wished you were still with your ex to do the same thing.
Who breaks up with someone before New Year’s? you thought to yourself. Especially so close after Christmas? The greedy fucker probably only wanted his Christmas gifts then to kick you to the curb.
Your anger started to rise at this, and just in time for someone to announce that there was only 30 seconds left of the year. Everyone raced outside, either onto the balcony where you were or into the yard below, to start the countdown to the new year. As they began to chant from 10, you noticed almost everyone around you had someone for their midnight kiss. Everyone except for you.
A combination of your anger and drunkenness caused you to make a decision you never would’ve made if you were sober.
“Five, four, three, two, one!”
Without thinking, you turned to the person closest to you that wasn’t already attached to another girl, and pulled him in for a kiss as the fireworks lit up the sky around you. Your poor victim seemed shocked at first, going completely tense as your lips met his. The somewhat sober part of your brain was screaming at you for your stupid decision (You don’t even know who this guys is! What if he’s some creeper or he has herpes or something?!), but you were too faded to really care at that point.
His hands found your waist and he pulled you to him, pressing his body as close to yours as he possibly could. Your hands gripped at the soft material of the shirt he was wearing, slipping under for just a moment to feel his warm skin against your cold hands.
Before either of you could go further, though, your stomach lurched and you quickly pulled away from him. You had gotten just a glance of what he looked like before you went running back into the house and to the nearest bathroom.
After hogging the bathroom for upwards of 20 minutes, you finally stopped throwing up and were able to get up from your place beside the toilet. You splashed your face with some cold water and decided your best course of action was to get some water, find your friend, and leave as soon as possible.
The first stage was very easy to fulfil, however the party was so jam packed with people, and the lights were so dim, that it was hard to tell where your friend could’ve gone. You were starting to wonder if maybe she ditched you for the host of the party, or for some guy she had picked up along the way. Neither would’ve surprised you all that much.
You decided to take your water and sit outside the front door to see if she would leave any time soon. If you didn’t see her within the next hour, you decided you’d just walk home on your own.
You were finishing the contents of your cup when someone sat next to you. He was a tall guy, around your age, with messy black hair and brown eyes so deep you felt like you could get lost in them. You almost had to chastise yourself for thinking of him in this way so soon after your heartbreak, but you had to admit that he was a very attractive man.
“I hope my kissing wasn’t that bad that you had to go vomit,” he said.
It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and when you did you cringed. “Fuck, that was you?” He nodded, a slight grin on his face. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. That was so wrong of me, I hope I didn’t ruin your night or anything?”
“Again, only the thought that you threw up because you kissed me would have ruined my night,” he responded. “Trust me, I will not complain about a beautiful woman randomly kissing me during a party.”
You blushed at his compliment and looked down at your cup, hoping he wouldn’t see.
“I didn’t throw up because of the kiss,” you assured him. “I just had too much to drink way too quickly and it all caught up to me at once.”
“Sounds like normal New Year’s Eve party behavior.”
You shook your head. “Not for me. I don’t usually drink. I kinda went overboard tonight because...” You trailed off, looking up at your still unknown midnight kiss. “Sorry, you don’t wanna hear this. We don’t even really know each other.”
“Well, we can fix that. I’m Pete, and you are?”
“Nice to properly meet you, (Y/N).” You giggled and shook the hand he offered to you. “Now, tell me, what has you so troubled that you got shitfaced, kissed a stranger, then threw up? And now has you sat out here all by yourself.”
You sighed and looked down at your lap. “My um...my boyfriend of five years broke up with me a few days ago. My friend dragged me to this party to get me out of the house, but she immediately ditched me, and watching all these couples being lovey dovey with one another, or horny drunks trying to hook up, just sort of set me off. I decided to get absolutely drunk, and at midnight I was drunk and angry so...I kissed the nearest single person.”
“Which was me,” Pete finished.
“Which was you,” you confirmed. “At least, I hope you’re single. If you have a girlfriend already I am very sorry.”
Pete chuckled. “Don’t be sorry. I am very much single. I don’t think a girl has even looked at me that way in months. That I know of, anyways.”
You breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that you hadn’t drunkenly made the moved on a man who was already taken.
“And, if I might add,” Pete continued, “I know that I literally know nothing about you besides your name, but your ex is definitely an idiot. Five years and he decides to end it? Not even put a ring on it? That’s shitty, and stupid. If I were your boyfriend, I’d put a ring on it within a few months.”
You giggled and shook your head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t, but I know your kissing is so good that I’d never let it go.”
Your face heated up with blush again. This time, Pete caught it and smiled back at you.
The door opened behind the two of you and you looked over your shoulder, hoping to finally see your friend again. When a group of drunk girls walked out instead, narrowly avoiding kicking the two of you or tripping over you, you sighed and rolled your eyes to yourself.
“I know, drunk girls, right?” Pete joked, thinking your reaction was to the girls who were now walking away.
“That wasn’t meant for them,” you told him. “It was meant for the friend I came here with. I spent who knows how long trying to find her after I threw up so we could go, or at least so I could tell her I’m leaving, but there’s no sign of her anywhere. I’m just annoyed that she ditched me when she told me she wouldn’t.”
“That’s fucked up,” Pete agreed. “Listen, this may be a bit forward since we only just met, and I understand if the answer is no, but I haven’t been drinking tonight. If you want to go home, I can drive you home. Fuck your friend, leave her here to get home on her own. I think you have more than a good enough reason for that.”
While part of your mind was screaming at you to not get into a car with this man that you didn’t know, the other part was reminding you of your stomach, which was still not feeling the best, and the heartbreak that led you to coming to the party and meeting Pete in the first place. You just wanted to be home and, at this rate, you’d take any offer to get home.
“Yes please,” you responded. “That’d be fantastic.”
Pete smiled and stood. He offered you his hand and pulled you to your feet. You stumbled slightly, falling into him. He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. You looked down into his eyes and felt your legs turn to jelly (although, that also could’ve been thanks to the alcohol still in your system).
“Can you walk?” Pete teased.
“I can,” you confirmed, pulling from his embrace and slowly walking down the two small stairs. He laughed at your attempt to seem sober and led you to his car.
The minute he turned on the heat, you were blasted with hot air against your face. He quickly reached to turn it off, but you caught his hand before he could. “Leave it on, please. It was way too cold outside for me to just be sat around in jeans and a t-shirt.”
Pete chuckled and agreed.
As he started driving, you rested your head against the window, a weird sensation of the cold glass mixed with the hot air surrounding you. The world outside passed in a blur and you could barley focus on it too much as it was hurting your eyes and your head. You ended up closing your eyes for a while and, before you know it, Pete was waking you up outside of your apartment.
“I’m gonna help you to the door,” he decided. “Just to make sure you don’t pass out or anything on the way there.”
You wanted to protest, but you knew that was a smart idea. You were suddenly feeling very tired and could already feel the effects of the hangover you’d have in the morning.
Pete helped you out of the car and walked you to your door, one hand around your waist as he did so. His touch was warm and you just wanted to stay there forever.
You got to the door and unlocked it. You stepped in and turned to Pete, almost expecting him to be following you inside. Instead, he stayed just outside the door, leaning against the doorframe.
“Well, m’lady, you have made it home safe and sound,” he said. “Make sure you keep an Aspirin by your bedside table for your hangover tomorrow, and drink a lot of water.”
“I will,” you told him. “Thanks again for all of this, Pete. It means a lot to me that you’d drive me home.”
“Anything for my midnight kiss.”
You giggled at this. You both stood in silence for some time. You didn’t want Pete to go. Although you were still feeling an ache in your heart, you could also feel something else for Pete. Something that went beyond two strangers kissing at midnight, or a potential rebound with him. You felt like, once you got to know him, you might have some real feelings for him.
“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you’re not completely miserable tomorrow when you wake up,” he said suddenly. “So, I hope it’s not too forward if I ask you for your number. Just so I can check on you tomorrow, of course.”
You smiled brightly. “Of course. Give me a second.”
You grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote your number down. As you passed it to him, his smile mirrored your own. He looked down at the number for a long time before looking back up at you.
“This is a real one, right? I’m not gonna call a Chinese place by accident tomorrow?”
You laughed. “Yes, it’s my number. You gotta have some faith in people, Pete.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I do. One last question before I go: do you think we could try that midnight kiss again? You know, without you running away to vomit afterwards.”
“I can’t promise I won’t vomit, but I’d love to try the kiss again.”
Pete smiled and almost immediately took you into his arms. Your lips pressed against his and you could almost hear the fireworks that had been lighting up the sky during your first kiss. Except, this time, there were no actual fireworks. It was just the feeling that came from kissing Pete.
He pulled away from the kiss first, literally having to drag himself away from you. “Goodnight (Y/N).”
You closed and locked the door behind him, watching him walk back to his car and start it before silently celebrating to yourself.
I guess tonight didn’t turn out so bad after all.
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you weren’t supposed to hear that (F! reader)
A collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈
warnings: NSFW, manga spoilers (in terms of what the boys do post timeskip)
words: 9.7k (oops)
a/n: wow it’s been awhile since I wrote one of these!! This has been half finished for a while and i finally got the inspiration to complete it. please enjoy!! 💖
Other parts: Kuroo | Sakusa
Being Ushijima’s roommate is fairly simple. He’s easy to get along with once you get past his jarring frankness and strict regime. Seriously, the guy never changes his routine; working out at 6am, breakfast at 8, leaving for practice at 9, home at 5, dinner at 7, and in bed by 9 o’clock. He’s a machine, but you don’t mind his predictability. It certainly makes your life easier being able to plan around his tried-and-true schedule.
You saw his ad for a roommate a few months ago when you were desperate to get out of your parents’ house and into the world. They weren’t too keen on the idea of you living with a man, but upon meeting Ushijima, they changed their minds quickly. Neither of them able to believe that stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi would ever lay a hand on you. Plus, the deal was far too good to pass up, he is seriously underselling the room you’re currently renting; and there’s the bonus that he’s frequently absent at away games, leaving the entire apartment for you to enjoy alone.
You learned quickly to keep your mouth shut on who exactly your roommate is, never inviting anyone over anymore in fear of them finding out from the various volleyball paraphernalia Ushijima so sparsely decorates the apartment with. It became difficult for you to tell if people you just met actually liked you, or if they just wanted a glimpse of the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi and maybe an autograph. And don’t even get you started on his fangirls that he’s so oblivious about.
To your surprise, he was indifferent about having a roommate of the opposite sex. You thought for sure he’d try to ‘keep your honor’ or some shit like that, but all he’d asked you was what your job was to make sure you can pay rent, if you were tidy, and if you didn’t mind being alone. He’d seemed satisfied with your answers, and you’d moved in the following week.
The first and only time Ushijima has someone over, you get home from work surprised to see an interesting looking character standing in the kitchen across from him. They both look up at you, Ushijima giving you a slight nod in greeting while a wide smile spreads across his friends’ face.
“Ushiwaka! You didn’t mention your roommate is that pretty!”
Ushijima blinks as if he’s never considered that about you before, while you chuckle. “Ushi…waka?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone refer to him in such a casual manner before.
The red-head beams, slinging an arm around Ushijima that he surprisingly allows. “Yup, me and Wakatoshi have been friends since high school!”
Now it’s your turn to blink, never having expected Ushijima to have friends outside of volleyball. Especially not ones who call him by his first name. In fact, you don’t even know if he considers any of his teammate’s friends either. He doesn’t spend any time with them outside of volleyball (that you know of) and so far, this is the first person he’s brought to the apartment since you moved in.
“Well,” the visitor nudges Ushijima in the side, who’s expression hasn’t changed throughout this entire interaction. “Are you going to introduce me or what?”
Finally, Ushijima speaks, his deep voice rumbling through your chest as he says, “This is Tendo, we played volleyball together in high school.” He doesn’t show it, but he notices your piqued interest at that information.
“Oh?” You say, “Do you still play?”
Tendo waves his hand dismissively, “Nah, it wasn’t for me. And I’m nothing compared to golden boy over here.”
You try to hide your amusement. This is definitely not what you were expecting from one of Ushijima’s friends. Tendo is rather enjoyable and chatty, much unlike the stone of a man sitting beside him.
“Tendo is a chocolatier in Paris,” Ushijima supplies.
Now you can’t hide your surprise. “Wow! That’s really amazing. What are you doing in Japan then?”
“Just visiting,” he beams. “And of course, I had to see my best friend Wakatoshi-kun.”
“Are you going to his game tomorrow?” You ask, ignoring the way Ushijima’s attention focuses on you. He didn’t think you paid much attention to his volleyball schedule besides when he’s going to be away.
Tendo nods excitedly. “Wouldn’t miss it! You should come too!”
You open your mouth to give some excuse, but then close it again at Tendo’s expectant expression. You bite your lip nervously; in the time you’ve been living with Ushijima you’ve never once actually seen him play. There’s a part of you that avoids it, fearful you might become one of his dreaded fangirls. But you can’t refuse Tendo’s invitation, and to Ushijima’s surprise, you agree to attend.
Clapping his hands together Tendo says, “We get to sit in Ushiwaka’s special seats! Maybe I’ll bring some chocolates for us to snack on…” And when he sees your eyes light up at that, he smiles again, “Chocolate for the lady, done.”
You laugh, and then Tendo is seeing himself out, telling you he can’t wait to see you both tomorrow. And once he’s gone, you can’t help feeling like you don’t know what to with yourself now. Not with Ushijima’s stare boring into your back. After a minute he says, “You don’t have to come.”
And if this had been the first week you’d known him, you might’ve taken that a little personally. But knowing him, he thinks he’s just stating something. He doesn’t see how it can be interpreted as him not wanting you there. “No, it sounds fun! And Tendo seems nice.”
“Tendo is very kind,” he states, and you have to resist the urge to chuckle at him. Ushijima is not a man of words and if that had come out of anyone else’s mouth you would’ve thought they were little strange. But in the months of living with him, despite your limited interactions, you’ve gotten used to his mannerisms.
Looking away from him, you start retreating down the hallway to the safety of your room, but before you disappear you say one more thing. “Plus, I’ve never seen you play.” Then you’re gone, not to be seen for the rest of the night. You don’t see him watch you until you’re out of sight. If you had, you would’ve been shocked by his dumbfounded expression at how the small smile you gave him made his heart stutter for a moment.
Ushijima has to leave much earlier than you do for the game, but he informs you that Tendo will be by to pick you up and go to the game together. Then, for the first time probably ever, he bids you goodbye and tells you he’ll see you afterwards.
Tendo comes by the apartment a few hours later, sporting an Ushijima jersey and a box of chocolates he asks to hide in your bag. For having just met him yesterday, he easily leads the conversation, asking you all sorts of things—though he seems particularly interested in your relationship with Ushijima. You try to assure him it’s nothing. Really, you aren’t even sure if you can consider Ushijima your friend. Right now, you’re pretty much strictly roommates and that’s it.
When you let it slip that you’ve never seen Ushijima play, Tendo is shocked. “Really? Not even on TV or anything?”
You shake your head. “Nope! I guess I never thought of it.” The lie slips through your teeth easily and Tendo doesn’t bat an eye at it.
Though he does grin telling you, “You’re in for a treat then! Have you ever watched volleyball at all?”
Your regretfully admit to him that no—you’ve never seen a game. You do vaguely remember the rules from high school, but they’re a bit fuzzy now. Tendo tells you not to worry and spends the rest of the train ride to the stadium filling you in on all the aspects of volleyball. And the more he talks, the more excited you get.
When you finally enter the stadium, Tendo is amusingly proud to show off your VIP tickets to be allowed entrance to the special seats reserved solely for Ushijima’s guests. To your delight, they’re some of the best seats in the house and you and Tendo get to work on the chocolates you snuck in while you wait for the game to start. Already the stadium is buzzing with excitement and you can feel your own continue to grow.
Meanwhile, Ushijima hasn’t said a word that he has visitors today. So, it comes as a complete surprise to his teammates when a chorus of cheers erupts from his seats when he enters the stadium. He doesn’t take note of how shocked his teammates are—he’s never had any spectators before. And none of them ever expected one of them to be a girl.
“So, who’re your friends?” Heiwajima asks during warm-ups, nudging Ushijima in the side and motioning his head towards you and Tendo.
“Isn’t that Tendo-san?” Kageyama notes, his own eyes up in the stands.
Without looking upwards, Ushijima replies, “It is.”
Heiwajima rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we aren’t so interested in him as we are the beauty sitting next to him.”
Now Ushijima lifts his attention, eyes drifting to you. He hasn’t told anyone on the team he has a roommate. Not because he has any reason to hide you, but there has never been a reason for him to bring you up. So, he doesn’t think much of it when he says, “That’s my roommate.” And then introduces you.
Everyone on the teams’ eyes nearly bug out of their heads at that information.
“Ushijima, you bastard!”
His brow furrows. Why is he a bastard? You’re just his roommate. And he never lied to anyone about you, nobody ever asked.
“Keeping that a secret from us this whole time!”
He ponders that. He wasn’t really trying to keep any secret. “It’s not a secret,” he says. “You never asked.”
The team guffaws at him and continues to grill him about you until Hirugami claps his hands and tells everyone to focus on the match. They’ll have plenty of time to discuss Ushijima’s secret roommate later. Again, Ushijima tries to explain it you were never a secret, but Hirugami brushes him off and tells him to start spiking warm-ups.
It isn’t hard for him to ignore you and Tendo during the game. He’s used to having nobody here for him, so he just treats it like any other day. It’s nothing special, he’ll play the way he usually does. Meanwhile, up in the stands, you can’t keep your eyes off him. You finally see why he works so hard, and maybe understand him a bit better.
He loves volleyball, you know that—but seeing him in action really drives it home. He’s a machine. Every time he serves or spikes you swear the other team’s arms are going to rip off from the force of the ball. And the sound that ricochets in the stadium when the ball connects solidly with the floor is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s like a clap of thunder rattling your bones and before you know it, you’re cheering loudly alongside Tendo with no qualms.
It’s exciting being here. You can feel your heart racing in your chest each time the Adlers or the other team is at a critical point, and sometimes you catch yourself holding your breath in anticipation for the outcome. You never thought watching a sport could be so thrilling.
And Ushijima is incredible. You suspected as much, but actually watching him for the first time is something else. You can’t help gobbling up the sight of him, his powerful thighs thrusting him into the air when he jumps, his biceps on display when his hand connects with the ball—and above it all, that sharp look in his eyes that sends goosebumps prickling down your spine without your permission. If Tendo notices you shamelessly ogling your roommate at all, he doesn’t comment.
He's oblivious to the fact he’s actually playing a lot more intensely than he usually does. Which some of his teammates never imagined possible. And most of them, besides the clueless ones alongside Ushijima, have a pretty good idea what’s different about this game. Though they can’t pinpoint if it’s just a result of having spectators in general, or if it’s you specifically.
The Adlers come out victorious after four hard sets, winning the first and second, but then having to snag the win in the fourth. You watch as the team gets swarmed by reporters looking for a post-game interview and Tendo tugs on your arm telling you that Ushijima is going to meet you by the locker room. You must give him a surprised look because he holds up the card dangling around his neck with a grin. “VIP, remember?” You giggle and follow him out.
In the locker room, Heiwajima and others try desperately to invite him, you, and Tendo out with them after the game. But he has to decline, you three already have plans. And he doesn’t wait around to see their disappointed expressions as he heads out of the room to look for you and Tendo. He finds the two of you nearby and once you catch sight of him, a smile splits your face in two.
“That was amazing, Ushijima! I’ve never had so much fun watching a sport before!” You gush once he’s in earshot.
“Volleyball is very fun.” He nods as the three of you head towards the exit. Ushijima purposefully avoids the spots he knows he is likely to be ambushed by reporters or fans, opting for a back exit instead that he sometimes uses when he wants to make a quiet escape.
“I had no idea being left-handed was such an advantage! Tendo told me it really throws people off apparently.”
Tendo sneaks him a smile and then throws an arm around his shoulder. “So, where is the great Ushiwaka takin’ us for dinner?”
You end up at a nice restaurant not too far away, and of course Ushijima gets recognized a couple times being this close to the stadium. He politely agrees to autographs and declines photos, seemingly unaware to the fact they’re just taking them secretly when they return to their tables. And while you’re waiting for your food to arrive, you can’t seem to stop talking about volleyball. Admitting that you’ll probably watch a few more of his games from home now and even cover your face in embarrassment when Tendo suggests you get your own Ushijima jersey to wear in support.
It’s then that Ushijima realizes he very much enjoys listening to you talk about what you thought of volleyball. Though he does feel heat creeping up his neck at the thought of you wearing one of his jerseys. All the while, Tendo is sitting beside you smirking up a storm, and Ushijima can’t for the life of him place why.
After dinner, when you’re walking a bit ahead of them and out of earshot, Tendo nudges him playfully in the side. “She’s pretty great, right?”
He looks at your back, expression unchanging. “She’s a good roommate.”
Tendo groans dramatically. “No blockhead—like, she’s pretty great, if you know what I mean.”
He blinks. “Do you want to ask her out?” Tendo can’t help slapping himself on the forehead. Who was he to think that Ushijima has any idea you are available, and he has a very high chance with you?
“Not me,” Tendo spells out slowly. “You.”
“I don’t want to ask her out.”
Tendo’s thin brows lift. “Are you sure about that?”
Tendo doesn’t miss his slight hesitation before he says, “Yes.”
And he doesn’t—you’re his roommate, and a good one. He likes having you around, but not the way Tendo seems to think.
But Tendo isn’t convinced. “Okay~,” he sing-songs before skipping up to loop his arms through yours and make you laugh about something. Ushijima thinks about that for a few minutes, why doesn’t Tendo believe him?
When you first moved in, it took a few weeks to get accustomed to each other. But once you figured out his schedule it became a lot easier. You know exactly when to hide in your room if you want to avoid him and when to come out once he’s gone. After going to his volleyball game, you especially try to avoid him during the times he’s walking down the hallway towards the shower, damp with sweat from a workout. Your brain can’t seem to function seeing him slick with the shine of sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead, and a towel draped around his neck—it’s too much for you, as much as you hate to admit.
But one week, you swear he’s on a warpath to make you a stuttering, flustered mess. Despite knowing the fact you’re certain Ushijima has no clue he can have that effect on people, much less do it on purpose. But every single day he’s waltzing around the apartment without a shirt on and while he doesn’t seem to see the problem with it, you don’t think your heart can take it much more.
And it’s the final straw when you see him a few days later, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin as he saunters across the apartment from his home gym towards the bathroom in the hallway. All while you’re standing dumbfounded in the kitchen trying really hard not to get caught staring at his enormous biceps or the way the shine of sweat accentuates the dips of his abdomen. It’s in this moment you can truly understand why he has so many fans despite his rather stone-like demeanor.
“You have got to put a shirt on,” you blurt when he’s halfway across, knowing this will turn into some dangerous territory if he keeps walking around the apartment half-naked.
He stops in his tracks, his head cocking the only indication he’s confused by your statement. “I don’t want to wear a sweaty shirt,” he says by way of explanation. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered expression. “I might catch a cold.”
You resist the urge to groan and slap yourself on the forehead. “Fine, then I’m wearing whatever I want around the apartment,” you say, determined to make him realize why he can’t just walk around like that. Though knowing Ushijima, you’ll never get through that thick skull of his.
And as you suspect, he simply replies, “Alright.” Before disappearing into the hallway and the bathroom to take a shower.
You lower your forehead to rest it on the cool countertop, shaking your head at how dense he really is. And you’re beginning to realize you think it’s endearing. While his infuriatingly toned body may be a major perk, you’re starting to see that you like him too. Now you actually groan. You swore this would never happen—not with Ushijima at least. But here you are.
After that, you make a pointed effort to wear the shortest shorts you can possibly find whenever he’s around. And you purposefully pair them with an oversized shirt, so it doesn’t look like you’re wearing pants at all. But if it has any effect on Ushijima, you can’t tell. You can’t help cursing his dumb impassive expression every time you retreat to your room for the night. Seriously—is he swayed by anything ever?
However, Ushijima hardly knows what to do with himself the first time you strutted out like that. He might be dense, but he’s still only human. His eyes naturally span down the expanse of your exposed legs and he has to grip his water bottle like a vice in order to keep it from clattering into the sink when you rise to your tiptoes to grab something from the top shelf. Your shorts ride up even more, hugging the curves of your ass as you stick it out to balance yourself.
You let out a surprised sound when he appears behind you, easily picking up the thing you were vying for and handing it to you without so much as a word.
“I really need a stepstool or something, huh?” You joke, taking it from him gratefully and blissfully unaware he was just blatantly staring at your ass.
He doesn’t say anything, but the next week you find a small stepstool leaning against the cabinets for you.
Staring at your phone in your hands, you thank any god listening that you brought it with you. How stupid do you have to be to lock yourself out of your apartment when you’re taking the trash out? Sitting on the floor against your door, you lean your head back on it and let out an exasperated sigh. You already went down to the office for help, they called a locksmith, and they aren’t available until tonight. And by that time, Ushijima will be home from practice and you won’t need the service anyways.
You have several options here. You could call a friend and stay with them until Ushijima gets back from practice, but they all live too far to walk to, and you don’t have your wallet. You could hang out in the apartment buildings lobby until he gets home, but if your phone dies, you’re stuck with nothing to do and no way to contact anyone.
The last option is slowly beginning to seem like your only option: calling Ushijima at practice for help. Burying your face into your hands you groan—you really don’t want to do that. Plus, you doubt he’s going to answer his phone anyways. After you sit there for a few more minutes, you take a deep breath and steel your courage. Leaving a message is better than nothing.
Despite deciding to call him, you still stare at his contact for a few moments before finally pressing the ‘call’ button. It rings a few times, then unsurprisingly goes to voicemail. When it beeps for you to leave your message, you swallow your pride and say, “Hey Ushijima, I know you’re at practice, but I locked myself out of the apartment…and the locksmith can’t come until tonight. If you by any chance get a break, would you be able to let me back in? I’d really appreciate it…sorry for the inconvenience and disrupting practice!”
Then you hang up and slump against the door again. Might as well head down to the lobby to sit somewhere more comfortable than the hallway floor. You turn the brightness down on your phone to conserve battery and resist the urge to just sit in the lobby scrolling through social media to pass the time. If he by some stroke of luck calls you back, you want to make sure your phone isn’t dead.
“Hey Ushijima, your phone was ringing in the locker room while I was in the bathroom. It was your roommate~,” Heiwajima teases. Ushijima slowly looks past his shoulder back towards the locker room door—that’s odd. You’ve never called him before. “And she left a message!” He coos.
Before Heiwajima can make any more comments, Ushijima strides past him to check his phone. They’re taking a short break and he doesn’t see a problem with making sure everything is alright. You wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. He doesn’t see the rest of the team share suggestive looks behind his back. Before you, Ushijima refused to check his phone during practice, no matter how many messages he had (which are few and far between but still).
Upon hearing your message, he calls you back immediately.
You’re shocked that he’s calling you back within a half hour of your call.
“Uh, hi,” you say upon answering the call. “Sorry for bothering you. I’m surprised you saw my message so fast.”
“Heiwajima heard my phone ringing while he was in the bathroom.”
“Lucky me,” you joke.
He gets straight to the point. “I’ll leave now.”
Your eyes widen. He’s going to leave practice right now to let you back in? “Oh—um, you don’t have to do that! I’m just waiting in the lobby; I can wait until you have a longer break or something!”
“I can come now,” he says plainly. Then he hangs up on you. You sit back in the chair you’re sitting in and huff out a breath speechless. Never once has Ushijima left practice early. And now he’s just dipping out without hesitation because you’re a major idiot? You can’t fathom it, and the little voice in the back of your head that’s been slowly falling for him is absolutely swooning at the thought.
When he enters the gym again, Heiwajima finds him immediately, while the other members of the team look curiously on as he asks, “So, what’d she want?” Immensely interested in the fact that judging from his sweatpants and jacket over his practice clothes, Ushijima looks like he’s about to leave.
“She’s locked out of the apartment,” Ushijima explains as he heads towards the door.
The team looks around at each other surprised. They don’t get another word in as Ushijima explains to the coach the situation and says he’ll be back in less than hour. Then he’s out the door and a few of them start chuckling to themselves, while the more clueless members wonder why in the world Ushijima would willingly leave.
The gym isn’t far from the apartment, so it’s not long until you see Ushijima step through the front doors and sweep his gaze across the lobby. You greet him right away and the two of you get in the elevator. The silence is unbearable for you—though you’re sure he’s completely fine with it.
When you reach the door and he lets you in, you finally say, “Thank you. You really didn’t have to leave practice though; I could have waited.”
You swear his eyes soften, but it might just be your eyes playing tricks on you. He appreciates that you are being considerate for his time, but he found he wasn’t keen on the thought of you being locked out. It didn’t sit right with him. Not when he’s only 20 minutes away. He’ll be back in under an hour, and that’s better than you just sitting out here for several hours.
He just nods his head and says, “I’ll come anytime.”
At those words, that voice inside your head becomes a pathetic puddle and it’s an effort to keep your knees underneath you.
He can’t explain the way his heart lifts at the smile you give him. Stepping backwards into the apartment, you say as you’re closing the door, “See you when you get home.”
He’s surprised how that word coming out of your mouth makes him feel.
Any feeling of domesticity is thrown out the window the morning you’re walking around the apartment in one of his sweatshirts he lent you a few weeks back when you were cold. He’s stops in his tracks in the hallway seeing you in the kitchen at the stove cooking breakfast, his sweatshirt too big for you covering your shorts and just brushing your bare thighs.
Without giving him the chance to quell it, against his will, his dick strains against the front of his sweatpants and he rushes out the door with barely a goodbye in hopes you don’t see it. It doesn’t even go away on the train on the way to the gym, no matter how hard he tries. His thoughts subconsciously drift to the sight of you and how soft your thighs looked. It’s shocking to him how much he liked seeing you in his clothes. It was the same sort of sensation he felt when Tendo suggested you get yourself an Ushijima jersey—only it’s a hundred times worse.
He tries to ignore it, walking into the locker room like nothing is wrong, stripping his sweatpants and jacket off and shoving them into his locker before he looks around and sees Heiwajima staring at him with raised eyebrows. Then his eyes pointedly look downwards before he lifts them to meet Ushijima’s again. “You wanna deal with that before practice?”
“It’s fine.” He’s sure it’ll go away once he starts warming up.
But then his thoughts drift to you warming up and stretching in his clothes. You bending over, his sweatshirt sliding up your chest, revealing more of your ass and thighs as you count to ten. And any sort of effort he’d put forth to settle down is destroyed as his shorts feel uncomfortably tight. What is going on with him? He hasn’t been able to stop thinking of you as of late, and it’s only been getting worse.
Heiwajima just starts laughing. “Seriously dude, nobody wants to look at that all day.” Then he motions his head in the direction of the showers.
Ushijima’s eyes widen, realizing just what he’s suggesting. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually concedes. He won’t be able to play like this. Nobody seems to care as Ushijima grabs his towel and heads off to the showers, despite feeling distraught about what he’s about to do. He’s never really been one for masturbating, so it surprises him how easy it is to let you in his sweatshirt come to mind as he wraps a hand around his cock. And he comes a lot faster than he expects too.
That’s the first time he jerks off to the thought of you. He tries to brush it off as a necessity for him in order to practice well that day, but it soon becomes a terrible habit he can’t stop. Especially when you keep doing things that make him uncomfortably hard. Like still wearing those tiny shorts around the apartment, doing yoga in the living room, showing him your Ushijima jersey you finally ordered online—seriously, never in his life did he think this would ever become a problem.
He hardly knows what do with himself at this new infatuation.
Recently, you’ve started going out on dates because you’re beginning to feel this strange tension between you and Ushijima, and you have no idea how to deal with it besides letting some other guy pound you into a mattress while you ashamedly picture it being Ushijima instead. One night, when you’re bidding him goodbye as you’re on your way out the door, he asks you, “Will you be home tonight?”
Your heart stutters a bit at that word. Home. And then you feel disgustingly guilty that he’s noticed you don’t usually come back after these dates. Meaning you think even he can put the dots together on what you’re doing.
But really, he’s asking because what you’re wearing is already making his pants feel tight and even though it makes him feel a little ashamed, he needs to get his frustration out somewhere that you’re out spending the night with other guys. It makes him feel incredibly jealous—an emotion he’s not used to yet.
“Probably not,” you tell him, swallowing your pride about it and shutting the door.
For the next couple of hours, he tries to resist the demon in his head telling him to go sprawl out on his bed and think about you with his hand wrapped around his cock. But even after he makes dinner, works out, and takes a cold shower; it’s still there nagging at the back of his head. And he knows it won’t go away until he’s coming into his hand with your name spilling from his lips. He resigns himself to this becoming something he does now and heads off to his bedroom to satiate himself.
Your date is terrible. He wasn’t like this when you met him at the coffee shop last week, but tonight he must be feeling extra lucky. Enough to let his cocky, asshole nature shine through and you find yourself forcibly smiling your way through dinner. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is a certain stone-faced, stoic, gentleman who’s just sitting there waiting for you at your apartment. And just the thought of letting this guy touch you tonight makes your skin crawl. So, once the dinner is over, you end the date short, blaming it on not feeling well. He looks pretty put out that he won’t be getting his dick wet tonight, but you’re not inclined to care very much.
Unsurprisingly, the apartment is dark when you return. Ushijima goes to bed promptly at 9 o’clock every night, so you weren’t expecting to find him awake. So, you’re stunned into silence when you hear sounds emitting from his room on your way to yours. It sounds like he’s…panting? Is he working out?
Your brow furrows and your curiosity gets the better of you. You know it’s wrong, and such an invasion of privacy, but you just can’t stop your fingers closing around his doorknob, turning it slowly to just get a tiny peek into his room.
Your heart comes to a jarring halt at the sight you stumble upon.
Never, in your entire life, did you think you’d catch Ushijima Wakatoshi masturbating.
It never even occurred to you that is something he might do, not really seeming the type to.
And holy shit—is it a sight.
Your mouth involuntarily dries up at his enormous hand wrapped around his equally massive cock, pumping it from base to tip as his hips work in unison with his hand. His hair is a bit damp, and fuck—his cloudy, lust-filled gaze is making heat pool in your core. Additionally, he’s completely and utterly naked. Who the hell jerks off totally naked is beyond you, but you aren’t complaining as you watch the way the muscles of his abdomen ripple with each movement of his hips and breath he takes.
You could probably stand here watching him do this forever if you’re being honest.
That is, until your name falls from his lips.
You swear the floor drops out from under you.
At first, you think he’s caught you. But you soon realize that is very much not the case. His hips start shuddering, his pace becoming erratic as he chases his orgasm and you’re suddenly struck by the thought of: you don’t want him to finish without you.
And before you can hesitate, you open his door fully and step into his bedroom.
His reaction is nothing like you imagined from someone who just got caught masturbating by their roommate who’s name not two seconds ago escaped his mouth. Anyone else would have yanked their hand away and scrambled to cover up. But not Ushijima.
To his credit, he does cover himself, but he does so in such a calm manner, you’re shocked. Plus, you can see he clearly still has his hand around his cock beneath the blanket. The two of you just look at each other for a few moments, and after what seems like eons of silence, he opens his mouth and says, “You said you weren’t going to be home.”
Your brows raise, amused he’s chosen that as his defense. “I think I said, ‘probably not’ actually.”
His expression doesn’t change as your gaze drifts downwards towards his impressive erection that somehow has not gone away despite that he’s lying there in all his naked glory caught red-handed.
You lick your lips subconsciously. “Can I help you?”
He wasn’t expecting that. Nor was he expecting the way his dick twitched in his grasp at your words. Or how heat is spreading across his entire body at the way you’re looking at him. Is he really going to let this happen? He’s pretty embarrassed you caught him, but you don’t seem phased at all. To him, you almost look…excited.
You don’t really wait for him to respond, taking the way he eyes you up hungrily as a yes, and stepping further into the room. Tentatively, you start lifting away the blanket he covered himself with, and he seems to be in a daze as you toss it aside, baring him for you to see. Glancing up at him, you see he’s breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide as he watches you—and while he may not be able to tell you with words how he feels, his body is telling you enough.
But you still want to make sure. Settling yourself between his thighs, you set a hand on each of them and squeeze lightly to get his attention. His olive gaze rises to meet yours and you ask, “Is this okay?”
Without hesitation, he replies, “Yes.”
And if you know Ushijima at all, he means what he says.
You get yourself a bit more comfortable between his legs, chastely kissing each of his thighs, finding it immensely ego boosting at the way they tremble at your touch. You make your way to the base of his cock and lick one stripe up to the tip. He groans quietly at the sensation, realizing his hand will never be enough again.
His fists curl into the sheets beneath him as you take his head into your mouth, and you fail to suppress the quiet groan that emits from you at how heavy he sits on your tongue. Your mind immediately wandering to what he might feel like inside you—if this goes that far, that is. His eyes haven’t left you, watching you intently as you take more of him into your mouth, the weight of his heady gaze making heat pool between your legs.
Steeling your confidence, you hold his stare as you take nearly all of him into your mouth and start bobbing along his length. A barely audible hiss escapes him, the muscles in his arms straining with how hard he’s fisting the sheets. Yet, you still have his rapt attention, and it makes you want to make him feel so good he has to close his eyes and lean his head back against his pillow.
The thought of having Ushijima Wakatoshi a puddle beneath you makes your thighs clench together. An action that surprisingly doesn’t go unnoticed by him.
In a matter of minutes, you’ve made him throw all qualms out the window and you soon get your wish of seeing him let go. His eyes close, head leaning back revealing the strong column of his neck, and his hips start to move in tandem with your bobbing motions. A guttural groan escapes him when you hollow out your cheeks, and the sound rumbles through you before adding to the growing ache between your legs.
You can’t imagine he’s even close to reaching the end of his stamina, but you are certainly losing patience. So, you pop off his cock, and start making the motions to undress so you can finally fulfill your fantasy of riding him.
He startles you by lifting himself to rest on his elbows, his deep voice filling the silence, “Wait.” You pause, your dress already halfway off. He sits up and pulls you into his lap, completely unbothered by the fact your clothed core is now sitting directly atop his prominent erection. “Let me,” he says so softly you think you might combust.
His hands replace yours, and he gingerly unzips the back of your dress and starts sliding it off your shoulders, each inch of newly exposed skin met by the soft press of his lips. You have no idea if he’s ever been with anyone before, but whatever he’s doing is making your insides scramble and burn. His movements are slow and meticulous, like he’s savoring each touch are you’re positively melting in his lap.
Eventually, you have to stand up to shimmy the dress down your legs, but he sits at the edge of the bed waiting patiently before his large hands rest at your hips and pull you back into his lap. Now you’re looking down at him, so you lean down and press your lips against his.
He’s somewhere else entirely—heaven, maybe, as you kiss him. Your lips are soft, body pliant and warm against his as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. He groans involuntarily when your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting his head so you can kiss him even deeper. You’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue darts out questioningly and you happily open your mouth for him.
I’m doomed, you think as his tongue sweeps in at the same time he uses his hands at your waist to grind you down onto his hips. He feels absolutely huge beneath you, and you have no idea if he will even fucking fit inside you. “Fuck…Wakatoshi,” you breathe. His fingers grip a little harder at your voice saying his name like that, but you’re too dazed to notice what it does to him. You continue, “Fuck me, please.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to comply with your request. Instead, he murmurs, “Not yet.”
You almost pout, but then he’s unclasping your bra and lifting you to set you down on the bed. He doesn’t waste much time ridding you of your underwear next, and you have to resist the urge to cover yourself as he stares at you with a near predatory look in his eyes. “You’re perfect,” he says, clear as day and you feel heat course through your veins at his words.
He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world to him right now. The intensity of his wanton gaze making you squirm beneath it until he lays his body over yours, the comforting weight of him pressing against your skin as he takes your lips again. He elicits a moan from you, his fingers dancing along your sides and his tongue sweeping into your mouth, making you nothing more than a trembling mess underneath him.
His lips leave yours, but he slowly begins trailing kisses along your jaw, down your neck and across your collarbone; almost as if he’s worshipping every inch of your skin before he reaches your breasts. He takes both of them into his enormous hands, the callouses of his fingers scratching along the supple flesh, making your back arch into his touch. Pressing a chaste kiss to your sternum, he rolls your nipples between his fingers, all while keeping his steady gaze on you. And you have no idea how the simple action of him just teasing your nipples while pinning you with those olive eyes is so unbelievably erotic your head begins to feel light.
And then he takes one of them into his mouth and you about lose your goddamn mind. How the fuck does he know exactly what to do? In the time you’ve known him you’ve never once seen him be even remotely interested in anyone. But at this point, you’re well past the point of caring how he learned his way around a woman’s body.
His tongue laps at the pert bud, all while he keeps his meticulous pace on your other nipple before turning the attention of his mouth to it. Without thinking much of it, your fingers dive into his hair, curling into the strands as he continues his worshipping. Though it does pull a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest that goes straight between your legs.
“Wakatoshi,” you pant breathlessly, chest heaving, desperate for him to do something about the growing ache at the apex of your thighs.
This time, he seems to heed your words. He pops off your breast and wanders with his lips down the expanse of your stomach, his hands finding purchase at your hips as he settles himself between your thighs. Your thighs tremble in anticipation as he presses soft kisses to each of them, fingers kneading your hips and pulling you closer to his mouth.
Never in your life did you think you’d have Ushijima Wakatoshi between your legs, looking for all the world like he’s about to devour you.
He groans as he slides his tongue between your folds, drunk on how wet you already are. And despite the fact his cock is throbbing almost painfully and leaking on the sheets, he knows to take his time. If you want him to fuck you, he has to make sure you’re ready for him.
You throw your head back, fingers fisting into the sheets as a lewd moan escapes your throat that only makes him bury his face even deeper into you. His tongue finds the bundle of nerves at the apex and sweeps across it, moving in small circles that have you finding purchase in his hair to keep him there as you move your hips in unison with his tongue.
A loud gasp fills the air as one of his thick fingers enters you, the ministrations of his tongue not stopping as he slowly pumps it in and out of your core. He’s kept his attention on you this entire time, his gaze never wavering as he watches you fall apart at his mercy. And he finds he’s thoroughly pleased at how easily his finger slipped into you, enough that he tentatively prods another one at your entrance that after a moment slides in without any resistance.
It’s so satisfying that he buries his face even deeper, his tongue pressing harder against your clit as you fuck yourself on his fingers. At the sensation of his second finger, your own find purchase in his hair, babbling utter nonsense that if you were in a clearer state of mind you might be a little embarrassed about.
“Please,” you beg, desperate for his cock inside you, “fuck me Wakatoshi. I want you inside me.”
He nearly falls apart at your needy request, but he isn’t finished yet.
You continue to plead with him, until you abruptly feel the absence of his tongue and you look down to find him staring intensely at you. Your throat clams up at his smoldering gaze as he says simply, “You aren’t ready.”
Your mouth drops open as you blink in surprise. Is he joking? Are you not frantically fucking yourself on his fingers right now, desperately asking for him to be inside you? How can you possibly be anymore ‘ready’?
“What are you talking about?”
Now his eyes drop, and very quietly he murmurs, “I’ve been told I am…quite large.”
“By who?” You blurt.
All he says is, “Others.”
You decide to leave it at that, your attention traveling to his erect cock, it pulsing so hard you can almost see it and dripping from the tip. You swallow nervously trying to imagine that going inside you. Ushijima just watches you eye him, his two fingers still knuckle deep in you, which he seems to have forgotten about as he angles his head in question. “Do you want to keep going?”
Warmth blooms in your chest at his concern. “I would very much like to,” you reply, smiling innocently at him, despite the fact the position you’re in is very much the opposite of innocent.
And the answering small smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter. It’s so soft and dazzling, it nearly knocks all the breath out of you. He presses his lips to your inner thigh, smiling against your skin, and all you can do is stare in awe of him.
Then, as if remembering where is fingers still are, he drags them slowly out of you, his mouth latching on to your clit once again before sliding them easily back in. Soon, he’s got you writhing on his fingers once more, toes curling and your own fingers gripping onto his bicep you can feel flexing with each thrust of his hand.
He waits a bit longer, until his fingers are soaked with your wetness again, before tentatively prodding a third finger at your entrance. He stifles his groan against you when he finds that it slips in along with the others effortlessly. Particularly as the grip you have on his biceps tightens, nails digging into his skin and eyes flaring open at the new sensation.
“Fu—fuck,” you mewl, holding on to him for dear life as he continues his slow and methodical pace. At this point, you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers, wanting him to fuck you deeper and trying to match the pace at which his tongue is flicking against your clit. The sensation becomes overwhelming, your thighs starting to tremble with the effort to not come around his fingers and mouth.
“Wakatoshi, please—I’m going to—,” you try to warn him, nails digging so hard into his arms that you’re leaving small crescent indents in his skin. He doesn’t stop though, not until you’re practically sobbing, “Let me come on your cock, please.”
That seems to be his undoing. His fingers and mouth abruptly leave you, eliciting a small sound of discontent from you. But you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of him leaning over you, aligning his hips with yours, one massive hand palmed around his cock as he pushes forward.
When the head of his cock sinks into you, a strangled gasp rips from your throat at just how utterly massive he is. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him from going any deeper as you say, “Slow.”
His brow is furrowed in concentration, as if it’s taking all of his willpower to keep from snapping his hips forward and sinking to the hilt in you. “Of course,” he growls, his voice taking on a deep tone that makes your toes curl.
And inch by glorious inch, he pushes deeper into you. His forearms coming to rest on either side of your head as he takes your lips to distract you from him nearly splitting you wide open. You tug him closer, fingers tangling in his olive hair, slanting your mouth against his and slipping your tongue inside which he gladly allows.
Eventually, his hips meet yours, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, his toned chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he has to take in order to keep his sanity. The feeling of your tight walls clamping down around him is enough to make him hiss through his teeth, “Shit.”
The word alone makes heat pool in your core. Ushijima Wakatoshi never swears.
“Holy fucking shit.” You correct him. He’s seated fully inside you and you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. Your legs splayed out to either side from just how big he is, and once glance down confirms his thick thighs are shaking with the effort to be gentle.
He just shakes his head at your crass words, then pulls out slightly before ramming his hips back into yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to you, your chest meeting his and his head finding the crook of your neck and he begins slowly. And while you’re very much enjoying each of his careful, deep thrusts, you very much would like to be pounded into his mattress. You’re certain he can.
You wonder if he’ll dirty talk with you.
Running your fingers through his dampening hair, you whisper against his ear, “You feel so good, Wakatoshi.” He merely responds with a kiss against your neck and a small approving growl that makes you keep going. “You know what I thought about anytime I was in someone else’s bed?” He makes no indication whether or not he likes you talking to him, so you press on. “This,” you murmur, “You.”
He stops, and for a second you think you’ve gone too far. But then he rises from your neck, and you swear to god—you almost come on the spot at the carnal glint gleaming in his eyes. Like he is about to utterly and completely destroy you. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation as he finally draws his cock almost all the way out of you before driving his hips home in a way that sends you into total euphoria.
His pace becomes brutal, his hips punishing, wordlessly making you realize it was a mistake for you to ever think anyone but him should be between your legs. It was pure luck you stumbled onto something you didn’t realize—he was immensely jealous every time you came home in the morning, clearly having spent the night with someone else.
It drives him so wild that he growls against your lips, “You’re mine.”
The words are so deliciously possessive, you can’t help the way your walls tighten around him, nor how your legs wrap around his waist and start helping him with each thrust of his hips.
“Yours,” you say, lips brushing against his. His hands wander down your sides, fingers digging into your hips pulling you even closer so that there is virtually no space between your bodies. He’s resting almost his entire weight on you, and his warmth and build is so strangely erotic, the coil in your stomach winds tighter and you can feel your impending orgasm begin to climb.
He cages you in his arms, hips never relenting, seemingly chasing his own release. His quiet grunts of pleasure are going straight between your legs, and you can’t help but start exploring the expanse of his exquisitely toned chest pulling an even deeper sigh from him making you almost melt on the spot. Your hands eventually find a place to rest in the dimples of his hips, relishing the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your fingers.
He refuses to finish before you, no matter how unbelievably tight you’re pulsating around him. So, he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, pride filling his chest at how you moan lewdly; your head falling back and fingers grappling even harder onto his hips. He takes the opportunity to press kisses to your throat, shoulders, collarbone—any expanse of skin he can get his mouth on.
“Fuck—yes,” you groan, hands leaving his hips to weave their way into his hair, using your legs to push him even deeper and meeting each of his thrusts with your own. You start quivering under him, your body preparing for the onslaught of pleasure rising in your chest, threatening to snap at any moment.
You come completely undone when Ushijima commands, “Come for me.”
Something about his husky, lust filled tone; his lips making their mark all over your skin, and the harsh thrust of his hips sends you over the edge. Your body bows off the bed, and Ushijima meets you, his arms wrapping around your middle to press you against his chest as his lips latch onto your neck and he buries himself to the hilt in your wet heat.
For the second time tonight, he curses quietly, holding you to him as your walls pulse with your orgasm and he finds his own release alongside you. You hold on to his shoulders for dear life as waves of pleasure roll through you, your body spasming in his grip all while he kisses you softly. It’s tender and erotic at the same time. As you start to calm down, he claims your lips, tongue sweeping in as you push his damp hair off his forehead before cupping his cheeks.
He pulls away from you, only to set his forehead against yours, your warm breath mingling. Both of your chests are still heaving, and although it’s silent, it’s comforting as he holds you.
After a moment, you open your eyes and find his closed, his lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. It fills your heart seeing him look so…content. “Wakatoshi?” You say quietly. His eyes open and your throat closes at just how handsome he is. “I…I like you.” Your eyes close now, embarrassed at how pathetic that sounded.
“I’d hope so.”
Your eyes burst open finding him looking at you comically seriously. You know he doesn’t mean it as a joke, but you can’t help the smile that rises to your lips. He gazes at you curiously as you ask, “And? Do you like me?” As if his softening dick isn’t still inside you right now.
Though, it still makes your heart flip when he replies without hesitation, “Yes.”
“Good.” You grin. “I’d hope so.”
You kiss him again before he finally pulls out of you and without a word, he gets off the bed and disappears out into the hallway. You grimace at the mess between your legs but are pleasantly surprised when he returns with a warm towel to clean yourself up with. While you deal with the mess, he rummages around in his drawers and at first you think he’s looking for clothes for himself, until he hands you a pair of his briefs and a t-shirt.
You must eye them curiously because he sets them on the bed saying, “Sleep with me.” He doesn’t word it like a question.
Taking the clothes, you smile teasingly up at him. “I just did.”
To nobody’s surprise, he’s relatively unfazed. “Overnight,” he explains further. “In my bed.” Though the light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks as he says this makes you want to smother him with kisses all over again.
You slip on his clothes and climb beneath the sheets as your response. You watch him dress, marveling over the muscles shifting in his back and arms until he covers them and joins you in the bed. He draws you close to his side, letting you run your fingers across his cheek before settling at his chin and pulling his lips to yours. You kiss lazily until you both grow tired and you tuck your head under his chin, letting his fingers intertwine with yours and enjoying the affectionate kiss he presses to the top of your head.
He surprises you when he says into the silence, “Are we going to do that again?”
The chuckle that escapes you is by no means meant to be mean. He just fucked you better than anyone in your entire life and if you were in deep shit falling for him before this—you’re doomed now. Yet, you don’t mind in the slightest. Not when being here in his arms feels exactly where you should be.
So, you kiss his neck and reply softly, “Yes.”
You don’t see his answering smile.
taglist: @bobawithpomegranate @anothermessedupbitch @abswrites @toorus-goodgirl @apollochjld @vicassa @sssjuico10
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Two by Two, Hands of Blue (Part Five)
Warnings: Canon-typical violence + mention of past abuse
Notes: Still hitting my goal of one part per day! Not much else to say about it. Enjoy it earlier than usual! <3 Thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting, I love you all!
Previously On: PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE, PART FOUR
“Guys in the yard today were talkin' about you, said you got a reputation, callin' you Law Man out there,” Scales said, laying back on his bed with his eyes closed. “Sounds like String Bean ain't gonna stick. Damn shame, too, I liked that one. I heard some stories about you.”
“What stories?” Aaron asked. He was lying on his side, back to the wall, curled inside of his blankets and ready to sleep. He was too long for his bed to be comfortable stretched out, too long for his blankets, and though sleeping curled up like this always made his hips ache, he had no choice if he wanted to stay warm. They were ten minutes to lights out and he intended to sleep if it was the last thing he did.
“You got a lotta enemies in here, but so far most don't wanna mess around with you. Got a few I'm holding off for the time being, only because you're interesting and it ain't easy to come by cell mates don't wanna get into your business. You seem like a nice, private guy. My advice? Snap outta whatever hopeless funk you're in, we all get into it at first, but you're coming in here with a reputation for not taking any shit and not backing down, lotta these guys are afraid of you – not all of em, but if you live up to it, you might be alright, especially for a Fed. Stay in here long enough you could be runnin' the place.”
“I'd rather not,” Aaron sighed. He closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars for the small break. With any luck, it would be enough to help him sleep.
“Yeah...you like puttin' us away too much, huh? Guess that'd be hard to give up.”
“Lights out, ladies!” they heard a guard holler from the end of the corridor, and all of the lights shut off. Aaron didn't flinch this time, just pulled the blanket up over his face, and fell fast asleep. He supposed if the worst that happened to him was that someone came into his cell and hurt him or killed him, well, at least he went out getting his first night of sleep in almost a week. He could think of worse things.
In the backwoods of southern Tennessee, Jack lay tucked into a strange bed in a strange house full of strange people and was crying himself to sleep thinking about his family, how much he missed them, how badly he'd messed up. He was in a room with four other children, all crying, all younger than he was save for one girl who said she was thirteen but he wasn't sure he believed her, he thought maybe she was just trying to one up him. He was so much like his father that he just let her have it, didn't want to argue something so silly. He was still angry at his father, but now that he wasn't staring at those awful photos, he was feeling more than just anger – he was thinking about when his dad was young, the things those reports said, he didn't know where they came from and he'd never met most of the people mentioned but he knew, somehow, they must have been true. He didn't fully understand it all. He was feeling so sad for his father, so mad at him for hiding things from him, so alone. He wished he could remember the way his mother sang to him at night, the warmth of her when she tucked him in.
“Emily!” Dave cried as he threw his front door open. It was too early in the morning to be smiling, and he'd grumbled the entire way to the door, but seeing her face made him light up. “You got here fast.”
“First flight I could get on,” she said, walking into Dave's house quickly. He grabbed her bag and rushed it down the hallway while she hung her coat up and waited for him. “Thanks for letting me crash here, I didn't know what you guys needed so I didn't want to book a room yet. Penelope said Jack's missing? Do we think he's on the road somewhere? I'll go wherever you need me to go.”
“Too early for this, coffee first,” Dave muttered, ushering her toward his kitchen. The sunlight poured in through the windows, speckling the counters in warm gold and bright yellow. He set to making coffee while Emily rummaged through his refrigerator, trying to find something edible that wouldn't require actual cooking. “We can grab breakfast on the way to the BAU,” he said, noting her look of dissatisfaction as she closed the door. His fridge was packed with food, but not a single convenience snack anywhere in sight. “My treat.”
“Deal,” she replied, sitting down at the table, listening to her stomach growl. Yes, I'm about to dump coffee in there, shut up, she said to herself. “So tell me about Jack. Please.”
Dave poured the steaming coffee into mugs and sauntered over toward the table carefully, setting hers down first before taking a seat across from her. “It's complicated. Someone created a fake profile, posing as a boy his age, and it looks like they've been talking for a few weeks now. About two days before Aaron was arrested, this Michael started telling him things about his father – we'll get into details later, on an as needed basis. I'd like to protect Aaron's privacy as much as I can, you understand.”
“Of course,” she said, nodding. She, of all people, knew how important privacy was. She also knew Aaron well enough that if there were things he hadn't told her, he didn't intend for her to know them, and that was good enough for her.
“These things Michael was sending, they were very upsetting to Jack. On the day of his arrest, Jack received a file including photos of his mother, Foyet and Aaron. The photos were official crime scene photos. Whomever it was that sent them, Garcia says is one technically impressive scumbag. I added that last part.”
“I'm sure she wouldn't argue,” Emily mumbled, sipping the too hot coffee, burning the tip of her tongue. Just the way she liked it. Coffee and pain were a dynamic duo. “So we obviously think the two are related, right? I'm not just grasping at straws here?”
“Right. They have to be related, we just have to figure out how. We're meeting the team over lunch to talk about what we know so far, and to figure out who the victims are, why they're important to pin on Aaron. I just got the names today, and there is another that they were alerted to this morning.”
“But he's incarcerated.”
“Decomposition puts the time of death on each victim within two days of his arrest,” Dave said, letting out a long, pained sigh. “We're up to five bodies they're pinning on him.”
“Okay, so they honestly want us to believe he just ran around town beating five people to death over the course of a weekend bender? The idea of Hotch on a bender, period...I'm sorry, it's not a joke. I'm sorry.” Dave gave her a look, the kind that said she wasn't wrong, but it wasn't the time, he wasn’t ready to laugh about any of it. She read it loud and clear. They'd joke later, when Aaron wasn't locked up in a cell somewhere.
“He left work on Friday, and he was arrested on Sunday. That doesn't leave him much time, but no one heard from him at all – he was supposed to have been at a leadership conference for the weekend in DC, he never checked into his hotel. Never showed up at the conference. Jessica didn't hear from him, but she didn't find it odd, he wasn't expected home until Sunday evening. Whoever did this had to have been watching him for a while, had access to his schedule.”
“You don't sound convinced...what else could it be? Do you think it's possible that he did it? That he murdered those people?”
“No, absolutely not. I don't know what to think, Emily, that's why I need all of you. I'm glad you're here, I do know that. How long do we have you?”
“As long as you need, I'm on personal leave. If it turns out to be the work of anyone who has international ties, Interpol has offered me their support and it becomes work. Until that point, this is me making good use of my vacation hours I guess.”
“Oh, Emily,” Dave began, but she shushed him as quickly as he began.
“Don't you oh Emily me. Hotch is worth it. You're all worth it. I can get a hotel room, once I know what you want from me and where I'm needed.”
“Nonsense, stay here. It's just me in this big place, the company will be nice.”
“We're going to need to discuss that fridge if I'm staying here, Rossi,” she said with a smile, finishing off her coffee. It didn't even get a chance to cool down, and it burned in her empty stomach. “I'm going shopping, but I think you owe me breakfast first.”
Breakfast was uneventful, and Aaron was getting to know his way around the laundry room and how to use the machines with only one hand. He was scheduled for a shower and new clothes just before lunch and he was looking forward to it to some degree, and dreading it to another. It had been two days and no one had bothered him, he'd been able to sleep at night and rest in the afternoons, he was left alone in the yard, and he suspected it was Scales who was responsible for it all. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten so lucky, but his fortune was not lost on him.
“Law Man,” came a voice from the doorway and Aaron turned to see another inmate standing there, a smaller man who didn't look terribly sure of himself. They often worked together for part of the laundry shift, but he had so far been on his own that morning. “Shower time.” Aaron nodded and set aside his unfinished bin. Aaron lived for showers, but he knew this was going to be unpleasant and humiliating. He thought of middle school, being a gangly thirteen year old boy stepping into those showers for the first time. Sure, he'd known everyone, it was a small town, but when you had to let it all hang out it was like meeting someone for the first time.
“Woah, Hotchner, you like it rough huh?” Jimmy had asked, and Aaron looked down, the sudden realization that his ribs were black and blue hitting him hard. He shrugged and tried to move away from his friends, to a shower on the far end where he could just rinse and be done with it, no questions. Jimmy followed him, asked him what was up, and he made up a lie about falling out of his treehouse. Jimmy seemed to buy it because he didn't press the issue, either that or he understood what that was really code for and was helping his friend save some face. Whatever reason he had, Aaron was grateful for the silence. That was the moment he decided to play football, even though he had no interest, at least no one in the showers would ask about his bruises after that. Who didn't have bruises after playing a sport like that? He'd be off the hook at least part of the year.
“Come on, Law Man,” the smaller man said. They'd been buddied up for his orientation, and Aaron had no idea what his real name was, everyone just called him Fisher Price because he was so petite, he barely came up to Aaron's chin. He was rough, though, people didn't seem to mess with him much.
They walked down the hall, falling into step with a flood of other inmates, and stepped outside into the crisp autumn air. Aaron turned his face up into the sunlight, just for a moment, and then they were entering a new building with a long, dark hallway marked with a yellow line down the center. The inmates crushed inside and fell into single file, or a reasonable facsimile, and listened to the deafening sounds of inmates and guards yelling, echoing through the hallway. As they stood in line, they were forced to disrobe if they hadn't already, some of them had come from their cells and were already in nothing but boxers while others had come from working the laundry or kitchen. Aaron watched as Fisher Price started shedding his clothing, down to his boxers and shower shoes, and he followed suit. It made him intensely uncomfortable. He felt goosebumps spread from his shoulders to his ankles. The smell was overpowering as they approached the shower, he couldn't have described it even if he'd wanted to, except that he'd been around enough decaying bodies to know all of the smells were inherently organic.
A few female guards sauntered down the hall as they shuffled toward the showers, one whistled in Aaron's direction. “Look at that fresh meat!” she called to her friend, who looked Aaron up and down and clicked her tongue at him. He felt his skin crawl and stared straight ahead.
“One towel!” called one guard as the inmates reached for their tiny spot of cloth that could barely be considered a towel. “One soap!” and next was a sliver of soap slapped into the palm of Aaron's hand, he did his best not to flinch or drop the soap, just glad that he'd draped the towel over his broken hand. Once his soap was in hand, he was shoved into the showers – there were easily double the number of people inside than there should have been, all of whom were naked and yelling, shoving each other out of the way, bodies sliding and slapping against bodies. It was, to the best of his knowledge, an actual waking nightmare. It was impossible not to bump into other men, but Aaron did his best to twist and turn, following Fisher Price toward the back of the showers where it wasn't so packed. They managed to find a shower head that only had one man beneath it and waited their turn to share. Aaron removed the bandage from his hand and let it run under the water, soaped it up and wrung it back out once the crusted blood was washed and left only yellow and brown stains. While he waited to wash himself, he wrapped the wet bandage back around his hand, tighter this time, hissing as his broken metacarpals ground against one another. They said they had a waiting list for non-emergencies, so he would have to manage a few more days before he could see the doctor. He'd take duct tape at this point, just to make it less agonizing every time he banged it on a laundry bin or rolled over on it in bed.
“That doesn't look good,” Fisher Price said, indicating for Aaron to get himself under the lukewarm blast of water before someone else swept in. “You get that checked out?”
“I'm on the list,” Aaron muttered, stepping into the water and letting it rush down over the top of his head, cascading like rain down his cheeks. He hadn't felt so good in a week. He almost didn't care that he was naked in a room with more than 200 other men, showers were his everything.
“Hey, Rawdon just came in...he's lookin' at you...” Fisher Price called, breaking Aaron's momentary trance. He glanced at the doorway and saw Eric Rawdon, eyes trained on him, but instead of looking away he set his features, scowling dangerously at the other man. Rawdon disappeared into the crowd of men, and Aaron finished up washing himself. On his way out, drying himself off with his washrag parading as a towel, he sloshed through backed up water. He was following Fisher Price, but as soon as his partner walked through the doors, the two female guards stepped in front of him, barring his path.
“Where you going, pretty boy?” one asked, and she was almost the same size as Aaron. Same height, same build. “You got an admirer.” Aaron stared straight ahead, refusing to turn around, but it didn't matter, he felt Rawdon's hand on his shoulder, instinctively knew exactly who it was, and felt himself go flying backward into a mass of bodies that, blessedly, broke his fall. He splashed into the backed up water, tangled in boxers and toilet paper and mushed up soap, and Rawdon and his friends attacked – they stomped on him, kicked him, forced his face down into the water. It was over as fast as it had started, when another guard stepped in and told them it was enough, she wasn't going to have someone die on her watch. She didn't mind them roughing someone up a little, but she had her limits apparently. Setting the bar for success awfully low, Aaron thought to himself as he sputtered and clawed just to keep his face out of the filthy water. He could feel the filth burning its way into his lungs, trying desperately not to cough, not to react. Rawdon and his friends left, and Aaron forced himself to his feet, hiding the incredible, overwhelming feeling that he needed oxygen but he wouldn't let them see him gasp for air, he could hold it. Holding his breath was easy, it was going to be the letting it back out that would be a challenge. He straightened up as best he could and walked, stiffly, painfully, out of the shower, listening to the guard say something about his backside on the way out. He pressed his arms hard against his ribs, pressure always felt comforting, he'd gotten to be rather good at giving himself hugs as a child when no one else would. Fisher Price had realized he was gone and stopped to wait for him down the hall where the new clothing was waiting for them. Aaron didn't say a word, just stood there bleeding, arms crossed over his aching chest, and waited to be handed his new clothes. It took him longer to get into them, but they were a full size too big, so at least the fact that he was still soaking wet didn't stop him getting into them. The walk back to his cell was silent, Fisher Price made sure he stayed close but he didn't say a word and Aaron wasn't sure if he was in on the attack or not but he didn't think so, not the way the man looked at him, unless they'd threatened him – he couldn't blame him, either way. He didn't owe Aaron any kindness just because he'd been forced to show him the ropes. When he entered, he made no eye contact with Scales who was reading on his bed. Aaron eased himself slowly, painfully down onto his cot, clenching his jaw to stifle the groans and curled up under his blanket, sopping wet and freezing, willing himself to go to sleep until his meeting with Dave and his defense team in a few hours. He knew Scales was watching him out of the corner of his eye, he just hoped the man would have enough decorum not to say a word. To let him save face.
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comfortable silence is so overrated || h. styles
warnings: drunk harry, alcohol, swearing
word count: 2k
summary: in his drunken state, your friend, harry, makes a confession he would never make when sober...
You couldn’t help but smile at the video of Gemma’s cat, cooing at the purring feline. When the video ended, Gemma pulled her phone away. “She’s so adorable,” you hummed, smiling at Gemma.
“She’s a devil,” she mumbled.
You chuckled, “Excuse me, I will not tolerate any Olivia slander. She is an angel.”
“You’re an angel.”
It was Harry.
Your mum looked over, snorting quietly at Harry’s confession. Gemma laughed, “Harry, you’re so drunk.”
“I’m not,” he replied, his words slurred slightly.
Anne sighed, “Your sister’s right. I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”
Harry sighed, laying his head back against his chair. Your mum and Anne exchanged an amused glance at the sight of an exasperated Harry trying to convince everyone he was completely sober. “I’m fine. I didn’t even drink that much, did I? Y/N. Y/N. Did I? I didn’t even drink that much,” he said, frowning.
He was like a child. Especially when he was drunk, he was one of the neediest people you’d ever met. You’d been on your fair share of nights out with Harry having known him for so long. You’d known him before it was even legal for the two of you to drink. You smiled softly, hoping to entertain his beliefs somewhat, “No, you didn’t.”
“Exactly. Y/N says I didn’t drink and if I didn’t drink then I can’t be drunk,” Harry said, turning to Anne.
“No, darling, she said you didn’t drink a lot. You still drank some. And you know how you are with alcohol,” Anne sighed before turning to your mother. “Come on, we’ll go and pay and then we’ll head off.”
Sat at a bar in central London with the Styles siblings, your mother and Anne wasn’t exactly how you expected to finish your evening. You were initially planning to spend your birthday at home alone, maybe call your mum. However, when Gemma called, asking if you wanted to go out for drinks, you agreed. And, upon arrival, you were pleasantly surprised to find your grinning mother with the Styles family.
Gemma slipped her phone into her pocket, pushing her chair away from the table the five of you had been sat at. She mumbled something about going to the toilet. This left you alone, opposite Harry. He stared at you, “I’m not drunk.”
You shook your head slightly, smiling, “I believe you.”
“I knew you’d understand,” he said.
Not entirely sure what he expected you to say to that, the two of you fell into a lull in the conversation. You finished your drink, your eyes flickering up to meet Harry’s. He sent you another smile. You returned it. Harry and yourself had known each other long enough to grow past the awkward silence. Silence between the two of you was never awkward anymore. It was comfortable.
Whenever Harry was drunk, as he was now, you’d learnt to just keep him happy. If you didn’t, he became pouty and needy. And when he was pouty and needy, he became particularly annoying. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Harry asked, his eyes seeming to struggle on one thing.
You almost wanted to laugh, “You know I don’t.”
“Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “How come?”
Harry never usually dug into things like this. But, then again, he was never usually this drunk. You shrugged, slipping your arms into your jacket upon seeing Anne and your mother returning, “I’m not sure. Just haven’t met anyone yet.”
Harry stumbled into your house, nearly falling as he slipped his shoes off. Happily, you’d agreed to drive him home (being the only one who hadn’t consumed any alcohol over the evening). While the other three women were sober enough to get themselves home, whether that be via the underground or uber, Anne felt safer if you drove Harry home. You agreed, mainly due to the fact that Harry’s home was on the way to your house anyway. However, in a turn of events, Harry was now staying at yours for the night.
To put it simply, Harry had accidentally left his keys with Gemma. The two of you agreed that it would probably be better if he went to collect them in the morning, as it was nearing midnight by the time you reached Harry’s house and he realised he had no means of actually getting in. Besides, it wasn’t like you and Harry had never slept at one another’s houses anyway. Albeit the occasion being more rare now than it was when the two of you were younger.
Harry fell onto the couch, pulling one of the throws over his cold body. He grinned up at you goofily as you removed your jacket. “What are you smiling at?” you asked, your cheeks heating up under his gaze.
“You,” he said. “You’re cute.”
“Cute?” you chuckled. “Are we ten?”
He shrugged, “It’s true, though.”
You sighed, leaving him be on the couch. You walked through to the kitchen, pouring him a glass of water for the morning. Your head was full of all sorts of questions. Harry was being clingy, and more clingy than he normally was when intoxicated. You wanted desperately to shrug it off and think nothing of Harry’s odd behaviour.
Maybe it was down to how much Harry had drunk at the central London bar. Saying that though, you’d been with Harry on his first night out when he turned eighteen. And nobody is ever drunker than their first night out. People are excited to finally be able to legally drink and they’re not entirely sure where they stand on the scale of lightweights. Little Harry had been no exception to this. “Here,” you smiled, placing the glass down on the coffee table.
You noticed his trousers had been kicked off, lying in a puddle on the floor. He was still in his t-shirt - one of his graphic ones. The throw was pulled haphazardly over the majority of Harry’s body.
He stared up at you, “What would I do without you? Maybe die. I might. I know it’s hard to imagine that. But it could happen without you, Y/N. You’re like perfect, did you know that? You always take care of me. I want to take care of you. But you never need it. Let me look after you, Y/N. Please. Maybe I am drunk. Hey, Y/N… I think I might possibly be slightly drunk.”
He was rambling. You smiled sweetly at him as he continued on about how ‘there’s a chance he may be drunk’ and how ‘wonderful you were to him’.
You chuckled, “No shit.”
He placed his hand on his chest, “There is no need to be like that. Apologise for that right now.”
Stifling a laugh, you forced out, “Sorry, H.”
He grinned, “It’s okay. I still love you.”
You just smiled at him. As far as Harry was concerned, you hadn’t even picked up on his words. Inside, though, was a completely different story. You were having a complete meltdown at what your friend had just opted to tell you. You watched as he closed his eyes, the tension in his features draining away. You cleared your throat. His eyes snapped back open. “I’m gonna go to bed. If you wake up before me, there’s cereal in the cupboard.”
He nodded, “Goodnight. If your dreams get too scary, I’ll be down here to hold you if you so need it.”
You forced a tight-lipped smile, “Noted.”
Spinning on your heel, you left Harry alone to sleep on your couch. He looked content enough. Content. Why was he content after what he’d just told you? ‘I still love you’? As you brushed your teeth and got changed, finally crawling into bed after such a long evening. The cold sheets felt refreshing against your flushed body.
Maybe he only meant it in a platonic way? You and Harry had certainly told one another that you loved each other before. And that had always been purely platonic. But this felt different somehow. Almost like he meant to keep you up all night pondering his words.
When you were fifteen, you first noticed Harry in a romantic light. For the four years you’d known each other prior, you hadn’t felt anything other than mutually platonic admiration for one another. But then you developed somewhat of a crush on Harry. You never told him - God, you wouldn’t dream of confessing such a thing to him. Not while you were sober, anyway. And then feelings faded and you were relieved to be back to your platonic love.
It was only six months ago did those damned feelings return. You weren’t entirely sure what triggered it, but you’d been in such a predicament ever since. Harry telling you that he loved you only amplified them.
As you jogged downstairs the following morning, you’d almost forgotten Harry was staying at your house. So, when you walked into the kitchen to find him rummaging through your collection of cereal, you almost had a heart attack. “Morning,” he smiled as he turned around.
“Good morning,” you replied. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Like a baby,” he grinned. “Did you?”
God, this small talk was killing you. Of course Harry didn’t care how you slept. Nobody ever cares how somebody slept, they’re just trying to make conversation, hoping something they say sparks an interesting discussion topic. “Yeah,” you lied.
You hadn’t slept very well at all. You’d been thinking about Harry’s words up until about four hours ago. Thankfully, Harry didn’t see through your lie, “Good. I’m glad.”
He sat down at the table, spooning some Cornflakes into his mouth. You poured yourself a glass of orange juice, sitting down opposite him. The unusually bright London sun beamed in through your kitchen windows, casting the most glorious light over Harry’s tired eyes.
He pressed his hand to his forehead, wincing slightly. He had a headache. You weren’t exactly surprised after how much he drank last night. The way he was speaking, it felt like he was dodging something. It was awkward small talk. Like he was deliberately trying to leave something out of the conversation. And you had a bit of an inkling as to what that was.
You had hoped he wouldn’t remember his drunken confession. Then you wouldn’t have to talk about it and you could just go on, pretending it never happened. But no, his tone suggested he definitely remembered saying what he said.
The silence you fell into was ten times more comfortable than the desperate attempts at conversation the two of you had been sharing. You sipped your orange juice, staring out of the window at the cloudless sky. Harry ate his cereal quietly, not taking his eyes off the bowl. And, as you finished your drink, you realised you were exactly what you’d been mentally scolding Harry for the night prior.
You were content.
You were content sitting opposite Harry on a warm summer morning, the sun washed over the two of you as you both basked in the comfortable silence between you. It was a little moment of domesticated euphoria. But, to Hell with comfortable silence, “Harry.”
“Yeah?” he said, looking up at you, anxiety pooled in those green eyes of his.
“You know last night?”
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, his gaze returning to the bowl and the spoon between his fingers.
“You know what you said?”
“Did you mean it?”
“Yeah?” you repeated, though you weren’t entirely sure why you did.
“Yeah, I meant it. I mean it. I love you.”
He said it as if he’d had one of those ‘fuck it, you only live once’ moments in his head. His confidence seemed to pile up upon every syllable that he uttered. “Even though I swore at you?” you smirked, recounting the seconds of revelations last night.
He cracked a small smile, “Yeah. Even though you swore at me. Do you, you know, feel the same?”
You hesitated for a moment, revelling in the moment of sober confessions. You grinned across at the man sat opposite you.
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—hymne a l’amour (m.)
⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader
⟶ genre: smut, fluff, tiny bits of angst
⟶ word count: 5.5k
⟶ summary: it’s valentine’s day and your boyfriend decides to surprise you in more ways than one. and when you’re dating park jimin, cocky, smart and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of absolutely nothing.
⟶ warnings: dom!jimin, sub!reader, big dick!jimin, sir kink, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, ass slapping, dirty talk, use of degrading names, unprotected sex, mentions of jimin having a daddy kink, jimin being disgustingly sweet boyfriend, oc having at least 2 (two) mental breakdowns, cringy valentine’s day presents
this is eldorado valentine’s day special but it can be read as a standalone. enjoy! xx
Spending Valentine's Day in the city of Paris is like walking through the streets of Beijing and smelling the strong essence of soy sauce and chicken every time you take a breath.
(Or at least that's what you think is a good comparison, since you've never stood your foot in Beijing before.)
Paris seems to be on another level when it comes to celebrating Valentine's Day. It's because that's the city of love, someone may say, but no, my friend, it's not just that. French grammar isn't the only stupid thing about said country. Citizens are even weirder, in more ways than one. It's the Eiffel Tower and the smell of garlic that disguises it all when you first visit France.
A week before February 14th, restaurants, cafees and grocery shops are all covered from head to toe in red hearts, chubby cupids, big teddy bears, various kinds of roses and, at the top of that – everywhere you focus your eyes on, you spot those huge inscriptions where words ‘love’ and ‘I love you’ are spelled in hundred different types of swirly fonts.
It's all too kitschy for your liking but tourists and locals don’t actually mind it even a bit. Once a year Paris turns into a set of the most cliché rom-com and no matter how irksome it might feel, you just have to survive this festival of boofonery.
You've always despised Valentine's Day with every fiber of your being (mostly because you hadn’t had anyone you could actually spend this day with) but your judgement took a sharp three-sixty turn when certain blond, charismatic man entered your life. Now, while you’re happily taken, a romantic dinner and a bouquet of red roses don’t sound that bad.
But when you're dating someone like Park Jimin, a smart-ass, cocky and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of abosultely nothing.
It's a little past ten, you’re laying in your king-size bed, a day before the actual Valentine's Day. Jimin informed you he was going to be late for dinner because of some extra paperwork he had to do in the office, so you patiently wait for him. Wrapped like a fancy Christmas gift in a new pair of flimsy, lacy lingerie you recently bought in Victoria’s Secret, all hidden underneath Jimin's baggy t-shirt (the combination of casual and slutty never fails to drive him crazy). The set is cute, in a baby pink colour. The last time you pulled a move like this, Jimin went hard, literally and lyrically.
Let's just say that Park Jimin (and his dick) likes high-quality underwear.
Dating Jimin has taught you a few things, one of them being that his sex drive is insatiable, so you always need to be prepared. That’s why you're now laying here, on your bed, freshly shaved and smelling of coconut, your precious pussy ready to be worshipped by Jimin's mouth.
When you hear the familiar jingle of keys and the door to your apartment swings open, you squeal in excitement, grabbing your phone from the nightstand to scroll through it mindlessly so you don’t come across a girl whose only purpose in life is to get dicked down by her boyfriend.
(Which, right now, is your only purpose.)
“Babe, I’m home!”
You hear Jimin pulling off his shoes and coat, so you shout back, “I’m in the bedroom!”
He seemed to be in a good mood in the morning and if nothing's changed, you're positive about getting some action tonight. A well-deserved orgasm after work it's all you crave. You squeeze your thighs, and wait.
“God, I’m so fucking exhausted.” Jimin announces upon entering the room and as soon as those words leave his mouth, he collapses face down onto the bed. His lifeless corpse smells like sweat mixed with his usual cologne and you wrinkle your nose in disgust.
And that’s on getting railed by your boyfriend tonight.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a moment, voice laced with tiredness. He grunts and lifts himself up to place a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes like bitter coffee and it makes you cringe, but you kiss him back nonetheless. He pulls off too fast for your liking and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck instead. He cuddles into your side, mumbling something about you feeling warm.
In your head, you count. When was the last time you two had sex? Right, last Tuesday. Oh boy, what a night it was. Your ass still hurts a little while sitting on a chair, a byproduct of your boyfriend's palm landing smack after smack on your cheeks. Lesson learned: never smile too broadly to the waiter who blatantly flirsts with you. You're sure the whole appartment complex heard that night who makes you feel that good
(As if they don’t already know.)
See? Park Jimin is unpredictable.
“How was work?’’ you decide to ask instead, clearing your thoughts from the inappropriate images of Jimin’s bare body pressed to yours as he fucked you that night. You thread your fingers through his blond locks just the way he likes, massaging his scalp.
He sighs, his words muffled when he speaks. “This new employee can’t do shit. I had to prepare everything before tomorrow's expedition by myself,” he says. “I have to tell Namjoon to fire his ass.”
You falter your movements for a second. Right, the expedition. You completely forgot about it. Jimin's going to be out of town for the whole day, digging in the soil in some French village the name of you cannot pronounce.
It looks like your fancy lingerie has to wait for her big premiere a little longer.
“What time are you planning to be back home?” you ask.
“Dunno. Probably late.” Jimin exhales loudly, his breath tickling your neck. His hand travels to your nude thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. You fight back a moan that threatens to spill from you mouth. You really need to get laid soon. “We set off at 6am.” he adds, tracing circles on your bare skin. Your smile drops.
So the plans for morning sex on Valentine's Day stay where they belong. In your dreams.
“You're so soft. And you smell like coconuts. I could stay like this forever.” Jimin mumbles, circling your waist with his arms and pulling you even closer to him.
You sigh, basking in this situation just for a while, stroking Jimin's hair and listening to his steady breathing until he eventually falls asleep. Still fully clothed, still with his hand on your thigh. Carefully, so you don’t wake him up, you get up from the bed to take off your underwear. You do feel a little disappointed, but it's okay.
When you settle yourself on the bed next to Jimin again, your back facing him, a strong arm pulls you flush to his body. You hear him sighing with relief, and it makes you smile to yourself.
Lights off, everything can wait for tomorrow.
In the morning, just like expected, you wake up alone. There's no sight of Jimin, his side of the bed empty and cold. For your dismay, there’s no bouquet of red roses waiting for you in the kitchen, no box of chocolates or a small, cheesy note with your name written on it. Not even a short “Happy Valentine's Day, baby!” text on your phone. Absolutely nothing.
You tells yourself it’s fine. Maybe Jimin didn’t have enough time, maybe he was too occupied with expedition to prepare something special, maybe the big surprise is yet to come. However, you can’t quite shake off the feeling that something do seem odd and it makes you anxious. Leaving without a single text is not Jimin's style. Not when it's your first Valentine's Day spend together.
You probably shouldn’t worry that much. It's not a big deal, after all you hate those types of annual holidays and Jimin knows it. Yet something about the whole situation makes you uncontrollably uneasy. You have never been like this, vulnerable and sheepish. You hate Park Jimin for turning you into such a softie.
Walking through the streets of Paris makes you feel nauseous. You look at all the happy couples sucking each others’ faces for everyone to see and fight an urge to gag. Someone shouts “Love is in the air!” and you almost throw up. Everytime you see someone holding heart-shaped balloons or flowers, you whip your head in other direction. It's nothing, you keep reminding yourself. A stupid holiday that doesn’t mean anything at all.
But the actual nail to the coffin happens to be the atmosphere in Eldorado headquarters. It drives you absolutely crazy.
It's 12am and still no word from Jimin. You checked: this bastard was online one hour ago, so he just doesn’t want to talk to you. Fine, mister. If this is how you wanna play, try sucking your dick by yourself, beacuse I’m not getting near it anytime soon, you think to yourself, filled with rage.
Yeri wiggles her pretty eyebrows at you and asks about your plans for tonight. You fake a giggle, saying that Jimin will probably surprise you with something when he gets back from his expedition. The words taste bitter on your tongue, especially when the high hopes you had simply melted away this morning. Your friend then starts babbling about the restaurant she's going to with Jungkook after work and you listen to her rant with forced smile on your face the whole time.
Meanwhile, a few meters away from you Hoseok is giggling like a teenager, typing something on his phone, without a doubt (sex)texting his girlfriend. She's out of town and you’re more than sure Hoseok hasn't gone to bathroom ten minutes ago just to take a piss. Even Namjoon is in a pleasant mood today, humming some old ABBA hits under his breath. Yesterday he couldn’t shut up about his date with a girl who’s also his new neighbour. He met her when she came by to give him homemade croissants. Ironically, that sounds a lot like some kdrama lovestory to you, and Namjoon hates kdramas.
During lunch time, you scroll through your Instagram and almost slam your phone on the wall. There's a new photo uploaded on Kim Seokjin's account.
kimseokjin92: Celebrating Valentine's Day on Maldives w @minsuga #couplegoals #boyfriends #valentinesday #loveislove
They are on fucking Maldives. Fucking Maldives! You grit your teeth. It's fine. Completely fine.
But the absolute peek, the moment when you almost break down into tears and curl yourself into a ball of misery, comes in the person of Jeon Jungkook. He enters the office with a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses you have ever seen, a huge grin plastered on his stupid face.
Your heart clenches in your chest. Park Jimin could never.
Jungkook hands Yeri the flowers and she laughs, slapping his chest when he starts declaiming Romeo's monologue from the Shakespeare’s tragedy. He then kisses his girlfriend deeply and lovingly, making her cheeks flush in crimson. Hoseok coos at them, Namjoon following him. You swear you saw Jungkook's tongue in the process of said heavy make out session.
(Jealously is an awful emotion, you've decided a long time ago.)
An hour later, the bouquet stands proudly on Yeri’s desk and you stare at it with melancholy. You briefly avert your gaze to Jimin's desk and the memories flash before your eyes. The same desk he had you bent over, skirt bunched around your waist and cock drilling into your pussy, when you both stayed together at work after hours not so long ago.
You mentally slap yourself. Get your shit together, woman. It's not like he broke up with you. It's just some stupid holiday. It's nothing.
“Something's wrong?’’ Yeri asks you with genuine concern written on her face.
You swallow, forcing yourself to smile. “No, everything's fine. Just a headache.”
She eyes you suspiciously. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” you say. Even though your friend doesn’t look convinced, she eventually stops bothering you.
It's all good. My boyfriend forgot about our first Valentine's Day together but everything's alright. No worries, you want to say instead.
Later that day, when you exit the elevator and walk straight to your apartment, a strange smell of something burning fills your nostrils. Is that food? A real fire? No, that's definitely some meat that stayed too long in the oven.
The closer you are, the smell becomes stronger, like it’s actually coming from your apartment. You furrow your eyebrows.
“What the fuck.” you mutter to yourself.
When you open the door, your jaw falls slack, eyes wide like saucers.
Never, in your entire life, had you thought you would see Park Jimin, your own dearest boyfriend, popping out from the kitchen with his hair disheveled, sweat coating his forehead, wearing a black suit underneath the most ridiculous apron you have ever seen: pink with a big-ass ‘mr good lookin is cookin' written in the middle.
(Can someone remind you why are you dating him? Oh, thank God he isn’t naked underneath.)
He looks completely lost when he spots you, waving awkwardly in your direction. It's probably the first time he touched something in the kitchen that isn’t coffee machine. He’s so flustered that you almost forget he nearly turned your apartment into ashes.
“Hi, babe.” he says sheepishly.
It takes all the willpower you hold not to spit a lung watching your boyfriend who absolutely hates cooking, trying to look unimpressed by the smell of burnt food. He does a pretty poor job though, an apron not helping in the situation.
“Happy Valentine's Day!’’ he exclaims perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, approaching you and planting a kiss on your cheek. And after that, you burst into hysterical laughter.
(Seriously, you almost lose your own breath three times.)
Jimin looks terrified but most importantly – put out. You’re probably hurting his enormous, almost the size of Russia pride right now. (Not your fault Jimin has the biggest praise kink on the planet.)
“Why are you laughing? Is it because of the chicken? Fine, I can’t cook for shit but I tried, okay? I didn’t have enough time and it was the middle of the night in Korea so I couldn’t just facetime my mum for advice and-”
You interrupt his rambling with a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up. He falters for a moment but quickly catches up, pulling you closer to him, placing his hands on your waist and deepening the kiss.
But then, when his about to trail kisses down your throat, you hit his arm.
“What was that for?!” Jimin yelps, looking at you with astonishment.
“I thought you fucking forgot about the Valentine’s Day!” you yell, slapping his chest. “Why didn't you tell me about this?!”
“Because the definition of surprise says you can’t reveal it sooner?” he reponds in a mocking tone.
“Oh, shut up.” you grumble and pull him in for another kiss. You could feel him smiling into it, cheekily biting onto your lower lip. He places a loving peck on your forehead and brushes the strands of your hair behind your ears. There's so much affection in his eyes you could melt into a puddle right here and there.
“I’m sorry. Jungkook told me you looked upset the whole day.” he whispers.
“I wasn't!” you protest.
“He told me you almost cried when he gave Yeri a bouquet of red roses.”
This stupid brat.
You look up at Jimin. “Fine. I was mad. And sad. Everyone was having the time of their lives and here I was, on a verge of mental breakdown because my idiot of a boyfriend supposedly forgot about the Valentine's Day.” you say, crossing your arms over chest with a pout.
Jimin rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you to the living room, where a bottle of (your absolute favourite) wine is standing on the table, along with candles and, yes, red roses. It's too cheesy and straight from the cringy rom-coms but you don't mind, because it's Jimin and he poured his heart into this and it's all that matters.
When he approaches you again, he isn’t wearing that stupid apron and you blush at how perfect he looks, almost painfully handsome. His hair needs a cut so it’s pushed back from his forehead. God reincarnated in the form of a smart, cocky archeologist who happens to be your boyfriend.
You're, well, in your black jeans and baby blue sweater and you probably stink, but Jimin assures you with his loving touches he doesn’t mind, never will. He always does that, looking at you with those sparkling eyes which say you're the most beautiful thing in the world for him.
And it doesn't matter how many times you scold him throughout the day, how many banters you have over silly things, because at the end of the day, in each others’ embraces, it feels like home for the both of you.
“Since the chicken chickened out,” Jimin says nonchalantly, filling your glasses with red wine. “We can always get drunk and watch some old romantic movies.”
You smirk. “You cried the last time when we watched ‘When Harry met Sally’.”
Jimin clicks his tongue. “Don't test my patience, sweetheart or you won't get the presents.” he warns.
You raise your eyebrows. You hope one of them comes in the form of his dick. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your lingerie set, so you make a mental note to wear it after the shower. “Can I see those presents now?” you ask, looking at Jimin with pleading eyes. It's exactly three seconds till he softens.
“Fine.” he mutters and heads to the bedroom.
When he comes back, he’s not alone. Literally not alone, because he's caring the most hilarious Valentine’s present you could ever think of. A giant, white teddy bear, almost in the size of him, heart-shaped balloons attached to his right paw.
“This is,” Jimin whips his head to read the name on the bear's chest. “Ted.”
You blink. “You bought me a teddy bear named Ted?”
Jimin opens his mouth to say some witty comment but he stops when he hears you sob. “Baby, sweetheart, what's wrong?” He kneels in front of you, the bear long forgotten on the floor. You burst into tears and Jimin tries to calm you down, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.
Once you eventually stop crying and regain your normal breathing, you wipe your tear-strained cheeks and look down at your very much worried boyfriend. “You are an idiot, Park Jimin. A fucking idiot. That teddy bear is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen and I should humiliate you for giving me that but...” You take a deep breath. “But I can’t. Because I fucking love you, dumbass.”
The corners of Jimin lips lift in amusement but you’re clearly not done with your little speech, so he waits until you finish. “You organized the most cliché date ever. You read all the Grey's books. You can’t cook for shit and this stupid apron you wore? God have mercy,” You visibly cringe. “You declaim Greek philosophers when you shower. Fuck, you persuaded me to do teacher-student roleplay and I kept calling you daddy during the whole thing because you asked me to. You are everything I despise but at the same time I love you so much,” you say, tears once again welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m telling you this now, even though I've realised this a long time ago.”
Jimin’s silent, so unlike him, declaring his emotions with a huge grin this time. He stands up and picks your body into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both to your bedroom. He places you gingerly onto the mattress, hovering over your figure.
(Your fancy lingerie can wait for another occasion.)
“I love you too, ___.” he says, staring into your eyes. “You’re making me the happiest man in this world.”
You roll your eyes, however there’s no use for that because your cheeks are already tainted red. “Oh, stop being such a sap.”
He smirks. “You love when I’m like this.”
“That is, in fact, not true.”
You’re lying and he knows it, but he always lets you banter with him like this anyway.
“Then what do you want me to be today?” he asks, his hands travel down to your zipper, then pull down your jeans. “Sweet? Loving?” He helps you take off your sweater and you’re left with nothing on beside your underwear. “Or do you want me to be rough? Push you around and fuck you stupid?” You gulp, your attitude successfully shut down. “Come on, use your words.”
Somehow, you manage to gain your composure. “Want you to take off your clothes first.”
Jimin chuckles, lowly and with a promise of more to come if you’re patient and behaving well, according to his commands. “You’re not the one to give orders here, baby.” he retorts. Then, he’s gripping your knees, pulling your legs apart and putting your pussy on full display for him.
There’s already a dark, wet patch forming on your grey panties and he tsks disapprovingly. “You’re wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want it that much, huh?”
You nod. “Please, touch me.”
So he’s in that mood today. You’ve explored a fair share of kinks with Jimin so far and what you know for sure is that he always takes the leading role in bed. He likes to dominate, be the one in charge, railing you into the mattress until you’re crying out so loud your neighbours are banging on your walls.
You slip into your role naturally, your usual confident behaviour gone and replaced with timidity. He relishes in seeing you like this, helpless and vulnerable, a stark contrast to how you act on daily basis.
Jimin pins you with his dark stare and you give in. ‘”Yes, sir.”
He rewards you with a feather-like touch of his fingers on your pussy. He finds your clit with ease, rubbing it with practiced strokes until more juices drip down from your hole, wetting your panties embarrassingly fast. Your legs shake with want for more, to feel him sink his digits knuckle-deep into your cunt and finger you like he did that one time in a bathroom on your flight to Japan.
He doesn’t seem the slightest bothered with your state, ignoring your pleading eyes and wanton moans. He hasn’t even taken off your underwear yet and you’re already on the verge of an orgasm.
Jimin knows your body inside and out, probably better than you do, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that he can sense when you’re about to climax. He withdraws his hand from your center seconds before your release. You can’t help but huff with annoyance.
“Something's wrong, babygirl?” he asks, saccharine-sweet and annoyingly innocent.
Your retort dies on your tongue the moment he decides to unbutton his white dress shirt. You’re too distracted with delicious lines of his sculpted chest to complain about your denied pleasure anymore. Your hands itch to touch him but you stay immobile, devouring him with your eyes instead.
Jimin notices you're staring and smirks. “Like what you see?”
You nod. “Yes, sir.”
He then stands up from the bed and motions for you to come closer. You oblige without an ounce of confusion, crawling until you’re sitting on your heels in front of him. It’s a rather humiliating position but you can’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins when he cups your chin and tilts your head up.
“Take off my pants.”
You rush to obey, unbuckling his belt with shaky hands because you know what’s coming next once his pants are pulled down. He’s already hard, the prominent bulge of his cock straining in his briefs.
“Now my underwear.”
You nearly moan out loud when his cock slaps his abdomen, mouth salivating to take him in deep but you don’t dare touch him without a directed instruction. He makes sure your eyes are on him and starts stroking himself, spreading the precum all over his length, hissing when his thumb rubs the sensitive head of his cock.
Jimin groans, low and throaty, and you whimper quietly in response. “What, baby? You want my cock that much?” he asks, his left palm cupping your cheek. You whisper a meek “Please” and he chuckles. “Come on then. Show me what that slutty mouth of yours can do. Open up.”
Your lips part on command and you nearly moan when he guides his cock into your mouth. You’ve sucked Jimin's dick enough times to know what he likes, what brings him to the edge quicker than hitting the back of your throat. You lick the tip of his cock, eyes darting to check his reaction and, just as you expected, his features twist in pleasure.
You relish in a minute or two of the control you have over him before he grows bored with your teasing and decides to fuck your mouth instead. But for now, you make sure to have him suffer a little for that stunt he pulled earlier when he didn’t make you come.
You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks for extra stimulation. Your hands reach to fondle his balls and you smirk around his cock when you hear a groan leave Jimin's mouth. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek. You lean into his touch, moaning at the praise. “My pretty slut.”
The first hit on the back of your throat makes you gag because fuck, is he big. The only thing bigger than Jimin's ego seems to be his dick, apparently. When he threads fis fingers through your hair you know what’s about to come; jaw relaxed, saliva dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you’re ready to be ruined.
He withdraws, giving you exactly five seconds to breathe and then pushes forcefully inside. Your mind is filled with mental images of him giving your pussy the same treatment later. You would whimper at the thought, if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full of dick. Instead, you give your best, swallowing every inch of him obediently.
“That’s it,” he rasps, clamping one hand on the back of your neck for better leverage. “You’re doing so good, baby.” When he nudges the back of your throat again, you feel him throb. He pulls away from the warmth of your mouth seconds later, panting heavily. He falls back onto the bed and pats his thighs. “Come here.”
You scoot closer to him and crawl onto his lap. He smiles at you from below, pulling you in for a kiss. The hands he previously gripped your waist with now travel upwards, unhooking your bra. Your hips unconsciously move, pussy gliding along the flexed muscles of his thigh.
Jimin notices your desperate attempt at getting some friction on your most sensitive parts and helps you rock your hips. He moves your panties to the side and you moan, felling the delicious pressure on your bare center. He’s watching with amusement as you’re falling apart on his thigh, thumb reaching to rub your clit. You cry out, climaxing so hard you’re almost seeing stars behind your closed eyelids.
He keeps helping you ride out your high until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation. “Did you like it?” he then asks, urging you to look at him. “You were so desperate to come, sweetheart. Fucking yourself on my thigh like a bitch in heat,” You whine instead of responding, earning a harsh smack on your ass. “Use your words.”
Another slap lands on your cheek and you mewl. “Yes, I loved it, sir.”
He chuckles, maneuvering your body so you’re now positioned over his cock. He gives your ass a firm squeeze and you whimper, arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs despite orgasming just minutes ago. “Ride me, baby.” he says.
You hurry to obey, guiding his cock inside you. It's a tight fit but your wetness makes it smoother to push him deeper. “So big,” you mumble, bottoming out. You know damn well Jimin likes to be praised and if the smirk that stretches on his lips is anything to go by, he enjoys what you just said. “That feels so good, sir.” You start moving your hips languidly.
“Yeah?” Jimin quips, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost makes the skin bruise. “Then show me what a good girl you are for me. Fuck, look at you. You’re so hot.” His palms cup your breasts, thumbs stroking your nipples.
You keen at the praise and quicken your pace. Your thighs start to burn but you ignore that, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like there’s no tomorrow. The room is filled with lewd noises, skin slapping on skin. Jimin looks down, staring at his cock coated in your juices as it disappears inside your hole. He curses at the sight.
Your legs start to shake, huffs leaving your lips. “Sir–please,” you whine, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.
“What do you need, babygirl?” he asks, pinching your nipples. You squeal, your pace losing its previous rhythm.
“I’m so close.” you stammer. “Please–touch me.”
“Where you do you want me to touch you, baby?” He ignores your whimpers, the way your pussy keeps squeezing his cock in a vice grip. “Here?” He touches your tits again and you shake your head violently. “Or here–” His fingers find your clit and you cry out loudly. You feel so full, his cock hits your cervix every time you drop down onto him.
“Yes, yes,” you chant, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut. You probably look right now like a professional porn star but you couldn’t care less, not when you’re so close to the climax. “Sir–fuckfuckfuck, please!”
“There you go,” Jimin coos, circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. “Come for me, baby.”
You’re gushing around his dick, arousal leaking out of your hole and coating his thighs with your release. Your upper body gives out and you collapse onto Jimin, your cunt pulsing from the intense pleasure you’ve just experienced.
“Oh god,” you mumble. “I just saw the answer to the whole universe.”
You feel Jimin's chest shaking with laughter and when you look up, you find him grinning at you. “That good?”
“That good.” you confirm, sighing tiredly.
“Are you okay?” You hear him asking. No matter how much he likes to push you around and fuck until you’re seeing stars, he always makes sure if you’re feeling comfortable to continue.
You spare him a nod. “You know I can handle it,” you say, lifting yourself up. “I’m a tough girl, right?” Despite the oversensitivity, you start rocking your hips again. “M-made for you.”
Jimin smirks. “Yeah, made for me,” he confirms and slaps your ass. Your pussy flatters around his cock. “Not like this,” he mutters and turns you onto your back with one, swift motion. “Much better.”
You pout. “You didn’t like it when I was riding your cock, sir?” You’re bluffing, but a girl can her fun too.
He clicks his tongue, guiding his cock through your folds again. “Oh, baby, I was enjoying it very much,” he says, picking up his speed. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer. “But now I want it harder.”
He fucks you just like he likes the most; fast and rough, unforgiving. He leans down for a messy kiss that’s all teeth tongue and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees his saliva dripping down your chin.
(He decides right here and there that he might wanna explore his newfound fantasy soon.)
Soon you’re feeling the coil in your stomach tightening for the second time, embarrassingly quickly so. You moan, cunt squeezing around his dick. “Again?” Jimin asks, voice laced with both mirth and disbelief. Tears well in your eyes and you give him a nod. “Such a fucking slut.” he spits, slithering himself into you even faster than before.
Your third and final orgasm is so powerful and sudden, it nearly makes you black out. Jimin curses, fucking you through it. “Kiss me,” you whimper deliriously and he obliges, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. “I love you.” you whisper into his lips and that’s what sends him over the edge.
“I love you, I love you–fuck.” he groans and spills himself inside, coating your pussy with his seed.
He collapses next you, chest heaving with every exhale. Your legs feel like jelly and you know you’ll have trouble walking tomorrow. Just when you’re about to tell Jimin to call in sick and spend the whole day in bed instead, he suddenly sits up.
“Wait, I forgot I have another present for us.” he says, rushing to pick something up from underneath the bed.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jimin, I swear to God, if you bought us matching t-shirts–”
He grins like a child, showing you two white pillows, the most basic ones you could ever think of, with ‘his side’ and ‘her side' written on them. It's cringy and ridiculous and you fight an urge to punch him, but you don't.
Because it's Jimin and you will never complain about it.
Because you love him. And that's all that matters.
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☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au doyoung
late birthday post for mr. kim! i am never on time for these posts, apologies.
find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei
a sinking feeling has you rooted to the floor. staring at the lock of your front door as someone knocks politely over and over again.
“what are you doing?”
your mother’s voice gusts past you like a breeze, she leans over your frozen figure and turns the knob.
you step back to avoid being hit by the door and dread the light that washes over your mothers face
“doyoung! come in!”
he steps through and all you catch is a bit of side profile, hidden behind the gigantic plant he’s holding
“oh! that’s the orchid your mother was just up in a fit about? come here sweetie, place it on the kitchen table -”
his footsteps echo and you shrink a little, he didn’t even look at me.
you’re thankful for your mothers insolent obsession with being a good host and trudge your way back to your room
doyoung is in your house.
which is weird, the first time he was in your house - you knew, obviously, but he was uninvited. your mother didn’t welcome him through the door.
now - for the past month - after both his mother and yours had come to a unbreakable bond over their indoor houseplants
doyoung has very much been a presence, an invited presence, a presence everyone but you seemed to be delighted about
“he’s such a nice boy, he’s spending his summers tutoring younger kids and i see him biking all around town.”
your mother gushes almost every time at dinner after doyoung leaves - delivering whatever ailing plant his mother has sent to yours to fix and play botanist with
you pick at your food
yeah, he’s a nice boy. that’s what makes this all so much worse.
now - you’re laying on your sheets with your hand on your stomach and staring up at the wall thinking very much the same thought.
he’s so nice, and so perfect, and everything anyone ever dreams of. why am i such an idiot for not wanting that?
you drum your fingers and again spiral back into the memory that keeps itself wedged between you and him like a piece of food that’s stuck so sternly between teeth, no pushing at it with your tongue helps.
summer starts in ten days, officially you know - by the university calendar. you’re supposed to be focusing on a final paper for some elective politics class you took, but you’re not. you’re staring at the back of doyoung’s neck. he sits in front of you for most lectures.
“hey, do you know anything about this military-first politics and nuclear armament essay prompt the professor gave us?”
doyoung turns slowly, blinking at you from behind his thin-wired classes, “yeah - it’s been the topic of discussion and reading for like a week.”
you know you sound kind of stupid to even ask - but you will admit, politics isn’t your thing and it seems to really be doyoungs - so you smile, with a please pity me kind of look in your eye. doyoung sighs, but he gets up and slides into the seat beside you - opening up the half blank word document on your laptop.
that’s it. that’s all it was going to be. doyoung helping you skid by, so that your summer isn’t ruined by a shitty grade.
but that’s not what happens. at all.
doyoung instead spends a lot of time helping you write a good enough paper to pull through a B-.
that means a lot of alone time in the library, in study hall, in the empty halls of the school buildings where classes have ended and no one is around.
it’s a lot of being shoulder to shoulder with him, realizing how nice he always smells - how long his fingers are when they type - how he doesn’t have a significant other because no one except his friends ever end up interrupting you.
it’s the day after you get your grades for the semester, something about getting the paper back sparks a fire in you
you scope doyoung out at the coffeeshop and exclaim that you and him did it!
a couple of heads whip around, did it?, you quickly add some mumbling about the paper.
doyoung laughs, it’s the first time you’ve heard the genuine sound, because most of the time he just makes a half-sided smirk or chuckle.
you buy him an iced latte as repayment and somehow end up walking out of there with side by side.
doyoung asks if you live near by if you don’t dorm, you say you do. he does too. that’s weird - you’ve never seen him around the neighborhood.
after that you pretend it’s a blur. because truth be told it isn’t.
you and doyoung are going to be taking the same train anyway, why not take it together. you and doyoung are going to know the same little places around town, why not talk about them.
why not? why not? why not?
why not invite him inside when you’re back in your hometown, why not lead him up to your room just so he can see it and why not kiss him when he leans over you.
people your age do it all the time, they hookup. that’s the only answer to that stupid hanging ‘why not?’
so when you felt doyoung’s fingers graze down your side and he’d clumsily gotten his glasses off just in time for you to pull his shirt up over his head
you were convinced it meant nothing. you were convinced he thought the same.
then it all happens and you can’t take it back.
especially not the part where you’re laying on your bed, just like you are now, waiting for doyoung to start gathering his things and instead a hand loops around your sweaty waist.
“aren’t you going to leave?”
the words blurt out of your mouth before you even think about it.
the tension that stalled in the room had been so horrible you swore you’d felt it seep into every pore, damn near trickling itself down the walls.
doyoung had darkened, pulled himself away from you, and disappeared before you could string together your next thought.
part of you had been relieved, the other part felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.
you were just grateful the rest of the summer could easily be passed by keeping away from each other - until your mother had found her new best friend.
downstairs you can hear doyoung shuffling around with your mothers plants, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but you’re sure your mother is inviting him to stay and eat with you. asking doyoung about his amazing future plans to become a lawyer. enthralled by everything he is as a child and that you, most likely, are not.
when he finally leaves and the commotions die down you can’t get up
this is the most confusing moment.
not the whole ignoring each other when he pops over, not the whole reliving the past from just a glimpse.
it’s why - when it happened, you had been so content with it just staying nothing - you had been the one to make that decision for the both of you
why does it seem like you’re wallowing in it, clinging to it, imaging it all over
every time he comes over
because you didn’t just want a hook-up. you wanted doyoung and were playing it off because having a crush on him isn’t worth it right?
your mind coils itself through a storm
you thought he only wanted to sleep with you too, because the thought of someone as good as doyoung liking you just doesn’t make sense?
despite the summer heat, you feel cold
you’re not good enough to actually be liked, to be the person doyoung chooses for something more than just your-
your phone rings and you sit up so fast it gives you a headache, you feel around and bring it to your ear without checking the number
“our mothers are trying to set us up on a date.”
you want to be anywhere in the world, but here.
doyoung’s blank expression doesn’t let you know if he feels the same, but the way he won’t get in at least eight feet of you is telling enough.
you’re in his backyard, well technically you’re in his neighbors backyard, because he doesn’t want to be visible behind the hedges
rather be caught dead than be next to me, right?
you shrill at yourself and try to bury the wince you make internally
“i think you should just tell them you have another boyfriend.”
“i can’t lie to my mother.”
you start and doyoung watches you chew on your lower lip and retreat defensively a step back
“she’s noisy - she’ll find out. she’ll insist until i die to meet this ‘other boyfriend’. plus i’m not a good liar.”
“really? could have fooled me.”
doyoung straightens himself as he says that, eyes unblinking behind the frames of his glasses
i probably deserve that. well actually-
“doyoung, i never promised you anything when we-”
the words wilt and doyoung suddenly looks over his shoulder.
“you’re right, you never promised me anything. im the one who was a fool for ever thinking it was something.”
you look at the grass.
you wonder, if you had not said that one sentence - aren’t you going to leave - would this summer be different?
would you and doyoung be spending every second together, holding each other at the beach? kissing under the fireworks? sharing ice-cream and diving into pools filled of water and your laughter?
the thought blooms something in your chest
i wish - i wish it was that.
“you say i should lie, but you’re pretty good at it too doyoung.”
“it’s not like you - it’s not like you really wanted it to be anything more than it was.”
you think the grass is going to burst into flames with how hard you’re concentrating on it.
“what, you’re telling me-” you swallow “you’re telling me you actually wanted to be with me after? our mothers are trying to get us to go on a date and you called me out here just to avoid that.”
he leans forward
“if you are trying to make me the only guilty party here-”
he’s closer and you feel your voice shake a little, but you try to push to the end of your thought.
“im not, you never made any effort to make it seem like you had any genuine emotion so am i so wrong for just assuming it was just se-”
his hands, large and gentle, manage to find your shoulders and doyoung presses his lips to yours
you stiffen from the external shock, but then relax under the light grip
his breath smells sweet, like he’s been chewing bubblegum, he’s wearing the same cologne he does at university
“i don’t just sleep with people.”
he whispers against your mouth
“nothing against it, but i don’t think there’s a point to sharing something intimate with someone who i don’t want in every possible way.”
when you and doyoung agree to go on a date - both your mothers lose it. they’re convinced you’re soulmates.
although you and doyoung both agree they’re thinking way too far ahead in the future - it doesn’t mask the fact that the attraction that ends up forming between you two is undeniable
doyoung is so determined and intently goal orientated that you would think there isn’t the capacity to have fun in one bone in his body, but that’s not true
when he’s comfortable, he’s charming and full of humor - he makes you double over with laughter more than you could have imagined
and you aren’t as spacey and shy as doyoung might have assumed either, you have a competitive streak and you make doyoung feel like this is the summer of his life
the summer of his life that someone could probably make a decent coming of age film out of
he brings it up after you two exit a movie that was just about the same topic and you look down at your hands intertwined and shake your head
“no they’d never cast the right people to play us.”
doyoung sees the reflection of the milky way in your eyes, but he doesn’t say it
“no one on this planet is like you.”
he returns this sentiment with a small kiss that bumps this glasses against the bridge of your nose.
you get nervous sometimes when you think about how the summer started, it’s not like you’re living in the middle ages where intimacy is a sin before eternal commitment or anything
no you just get nervous because the reason you ever even made that situation as bad as it was, was because of your insecurity
does doyoung actually like me? did two weeks of being together at school make him realize something about me is worth it?
you can’t ask him that - even though sometimes you want to, so you can explain why you hadn’t just rolled over and nuzzled yourself into the dip of his chest
much like you do now - you fit so perfectly right between his arms
instead it sometimes gnaws at you until doyoung is cleaning his glasses over your sink and you’re sitting in the bathtub looking at him
your parents are ironically over at doyoungs for some wine party or whatever and although your mothers are in awe about you two being “a cute lil couple”
they see that - cute, part of it makes you snort. you and doyoung sometimes act more mature than they do.
“i always knew you were staring at me in lecture.” he starts and a little smirk pulls at his long lips
you flick some of the water at him and he leans against the counter
he doesn’t like baths, he prefers showers, but he still stays in the room with you when you take them
“i wasn’t staring at you.”
“you were staring at the back of my neck.”
you look away because fair, not like he spends a lot of time looking away from the professor.
“so i knew you liked me, or something about me. that’s why it hurt.”
“yes and i like being logical, so not having a real answer for why that all happened like it did still haunts me.”
he tilts his head and you see the line of his thin collarbones through his shirt
“i thought you’d say it first.”
“i thought you’d say something like, that was cool. ill see you at uni come fall. and then leave. so i mean, i didn’t even say go leave - i asked, aren’t you going to leave?”
doyoung is smart so he gets what you’re saying in the most roundabout way possible
he walks over and squats down, leans over the ridge of the bath to kiss you and doesn’t complain when you bring your soapy hands up to cradle his neck
“im sorry i did leave, i should have just said what i felt right there.”
he mutters and you nod. you should have said it too.
when you and doyoung graduate and he goes on to law school and you start working, you almost break up - twice - because of the stress
but somehow neither of you can ever ask the other one
aren’t you going to leave?
because neither of you ever really wants to.
so you don’t, you stay through all the hardships, through every argument and bump in the road.
you stay, you choose to stay and so does he and you might not even fall asleep next to each other on some days but the heat of the person you love is always there.
and then doyoung gets his first big promotion at his job, runs all the way home with the news and ends up breathing hard and talking nonsense to you in your shared kitchen
“you need a shower.”
you say, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he shakes his head, no. he needs a bath.
you lean back against his chest, stronger and broader as he’s aged.
he looks down at you and even the eyebags that have gotten darker with all that work he does don’t do anything to make him less attractive
you peck his chin, because it’s what you can reach.
“if we sit here any longer we’re going to prune.”
“are you going to be the first one to leave?”
he asks and you shake your head.
you’ll sit here forever if that’s what it takes.
on the counter of the bathroom, there’s one of the houseplants your mothers keeps shipping to you.
you don’t notice that it’s the same orchid that doyoung carried into your house all those years ago, when you thought he hadn’t even looked at you when your mother opened the door.
he curls a strand of your wet hair around his finger.
he had looked at you, quickly, but he had done it.
even half covered by orchid leaves, you’d made his mouth dry.
“no seriously though - we will prune.”
“i’ll get up if you get up?”
i’ll never leave, the only way i’ll leave is if it means im taking you with me.
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Reckless (Bianca & Adore) - Candy Cane
A/N: im living in 2015 right now so like. ignore me fsdfsdf but anyways, here’s 2.8k of more incredibly self-indulgent fanfiction. i wrote this as platonic, but if you wanna see anything in here as romantic be my guest!! id like to thank chaoticnachokitten for supporting me and giving me ideas and beta'ing and i just- GAAAHH THANK YOU!! and thanks to everyone else who had such nice words to say abt my last one, it means soooo much 🥺🥺🥺
Summary: Adore and Bianca hang out, but of course things go wrong.
Adore loves hanging out with Bianca. Not only is she her best friend, but she’s the kind of person Adore thought would’ve hated her. But that’s not the case at all, there’s some sort of weird mutual respect and admiration going on between them, and it is fucking awesome.
The young musician knows she can be… a lot sometimes, what with her natural hyperactive toddler personality type, and it amazes her Bianca puts up with her. Especially in moments where Adore knows she shouldn’t be bothering her friend, but decides to anyways because Bianca can be boring sometimes. Moments like this one.
Adore had a gig at one of the clubs, and it ran much later than she had originally anticipated, but that was mostly due to her wanting to stay for Bianca’s set too. Of course, that led to them sharing a few too many drinks together while they stayed to watch some more performers. So when it came time for them to go home, Adore can’t find her keys.
It’s late. Late enough there’s no guarantee Adore’s roommates will be up to let her back into the apartment. The singer immediately turns to her oldest, nearest, dearest friend.
“Oh my God,” Bianca sighs whilst massaging her temples, seeing the next ten hours play out clear as day in front of her.
“Pleaaase can I stay at your place tonight Bia?” Adore asks, using her most pitiful voice and absolute poutiest facial expression.
They’re sat at a table in the back, Adore’s hands perched on Bianca’s knees as she essentially begs. Adore’s too drunk to care.
“Why don’t you call someone to see if they’ll stay up for you?” Bianca retorts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. To be fair, it probably is. Adore’s still too drunk to realize that though.
“Oh yeah,” she says, knowing she sounds like the world’s dumbest bitch. She fumbles with her phone for a few seconds, poking the screen and the on button for an embarrassing amount of time before turning to Bianca with another sad pouty face, “It’s dead.”
“Of course it’s fucking dead,” Bianca groans, playing it up like she really does mind Adore staying with her for the night. She doesn’t, she probably would never. Adore is like the niece she never had, and she wouldn’t trade that girl for the world.
“Why don’t I just call one of them on mine?” Bianca offers.
Adobe frowns, putting on her thinking face, “…I don’t remember their numbers.”
“I can call Courtney,” Bianca reminds her.
A few minutes later, they discover they cannot call Courtney. They try calling her twice, and both times are a bust.
She glances down at Adore, and chuckles when she sees the “Bambi eyes”. Even if she weren’t planning on letting the kid stay with her, that would’ve done her in. She hasn’t met a single person that can resist those eyes.
“I’ll be quiet! I promise!” the singer whines.
Bianca makes an exaggerated show of sighing and hemming and hawing, just to tease Adore, then cracks open a wide, amused smile, “Of course you can stay at my place, bitch.”
“Party!” Adore cheers, throwing her arms tightly around Bianca’s neck. It’s all the thanks Bianca needs.
They pay their bills, order a Lyft, and in more time than either would’ve preferred, they make it to Bianca’s huge ass apartment. The pair stumbles inside the building, trying to look as Not Drunk as they can, and failing miserably. It doesn’t matter anyways, it’s almost 3 a.m. meaning there’s not a soul alive there to watch them.
Bianca leads Adore to the elevator, even if it’s pointless because Adore randomly shows up at Bianca’s place at least three times a week. The singer grips Bianca’s hand tightly, giggling and stumbling while the comic practically barks at her to be quieter. They’re lucky it’s a Friday. Well, a Saturday now, Bianca supposes.
The pair climbs up the one flight of stairs to Bianca’s apartment, and then into the apartment itself after Bianca spends a couple minutes fumbling with her keys. The door swings open, and they both fall onto the nearest couch.
They’re breathless with laughter, and then it starts up again when Bianca realizes she hasn’t closed her apartment door yet.
After she locks her apartment back up and turns on some lights, the older woman finds she can’t take her eyes off of Adore. The younger is smiling so freely, and it ignites something inside Bianca. She’s not sure what it is, maybe youthfulness, or freedom, but she loves it.
“B! Oh my God! I have an idea!” Adore suddenly says, sitting up way too fast and clearly making herself dizzy.
“Don’t kill yourself, otherwise I’m the one that has to call 911. You think I want paramedics at my house before the sunrises? Fuck no,” Bianca berates her, but she’s quick to recompose herself when Adore goes all pouty again, “What’s your idea? God knows you only come up with a good one every millennium.”
Adore childishly sticks her tongue out at Bianca, “We should make waffles!”
“How the fuck are we supposed to make waffles? I’m not a cook, I don’t keep that shit in my house.”
Adore screws up her face cutely, clearly trying to think of a solution to her waffle problem. She brightens up again after a minute, looking very proud of herself, “Alyssa! I bet Alyssa has it!”
Bianca rolls her eyes, “You really think I wanna speak to her right now? At three in the goddamn morning?”
“But waffles!” Adore insists.
“Tomorrow,” Bianca promises, “Right now I want to get out of this clown costume and into bed.”
Adore sighs, then tries her best puppy eyes again, “Cuddles?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Bianca snorts.
Adore smiles as bright as the sun, then at Bianca’s beckoning she follows her best friend down the hall so they can take off their makeup and get ready for bed. When they’re finally able to snuggle up in bed together, Adore in one of Bianca’s old shirts and pair of leggings, the whole apartment pitch black, and the only sound they could hear was the sound of each other’s breathing.
It’s soothing and warm. They sleep like rocks.
The sun wakes Adore up at way too fucking early though. Her head is pounding, her arm has fallen asleep from Bianca laying on it through the night, and she is really fucking hungry. Adore groans and gently pulls her arm out from under Bianca, then stumbles out of the way too big, way too soft bed to go find something to take care of her headache.
She’s quickly able to find where Bianca keeps those things (the mounted cabinet in the bathroom) because Adore used to spend a ridiculous amount of time at this apartment complaining about her ailments to Bianca, which of course lead Bianca to freely helping Adore out whenever. Bianca would act all cold and exasperated over it, but they both knew it was just a show.
Adore downs two of the pills dry and decides nearly immediately she should go find something to drink. In mere minutes she has a pot of coffee brewing, and simultaneously discovers that it’s only around 9 a.m.. Which is just overall… weird. Adore is almost never up this early, especially after the kind of night she had last night. The events of the night are still pretty fuzzy right now, but she still remembers everything. Mostly. She thinks.
One thing she does remember is a promise. A promise for waffles. Adore grins, an idea formulating in her head. Bianca is always so incredibly nice to her, helping her out and giving her whatever she wants. And sure, it’s not Mother’s Day, but that doesn’t mean Adore can’t show her appreciation for Bianca.
Clearly the woman deserves breakfast in bed. Courtesy of a little help from a next door neighbor (hopefully). The singer quickly grabs Bianca’s key off the counter and heads over to the one person she knows will have just what she wants.
Adore knocks on the door, and it’s only a minute later with an accompanied shout of ‘I’m comin’ hon!’ that the heavy white door is thrown open.
“Oh my goodness it’s Adore Delano!” Alyssa Edwards says excitedly, “Hello, doll!”
“Hi, Alyssa!” Adore smiles, “Um, I have a favor to ask of you?”
Bianca’s favorite way to wake up is slowly, with the sun streaming in through her bedroom window and having absolutely all the time in the world to get up, check her phone, and get ready for work. This morning is the exact fucking opposite.
First thing that wakes her up is the motherfucking fire alarm, causing her to scramble out of bed at a record speed. Second thing, she’s painfully aware that Adore isn’t in the bed with her. Bianca is halfway through screaming Adore’s name when she bursts out into the main room.
The main room is smokey as all hell. Adore is aiming a fire extinguisher at the counter from the other side of the kitchen. The counter is covered in white foam. Her damn fire alarm won’t shut up.
Bianca’s going to have a hard time explaining this one to the neighbors for sure.
The older woman breathes in slowly, but sharply, “Adore, what the fuck did you do?”
Adore doesn’t say anything. She lets go of the fire extinguisher, and they both wince when it crashes against the kitchen tile. Not for the first time, Bianca is glad that she lives on the first floor.
The two stare at each other, Adore resting boneless against the oven, her expression just screaming shock. She lifts her head to meet Bianca’s eyes.
Pounding on the door, someone starts shouting, “BIANCA?! HOLY GOD, IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?”
The woman in question is quick to open her apartment door, but instead of accepting the concern, she barks out, “What do you want?”
“The whole damn building knows your alarms are going off, Bianca!” Alyssa says sharply, shoving her way inside the apartment, “My girls are coming over in two hours! I can’t have my house burning down on me.”
Bianca and Adore share a twin look of surprise. Alyssa’s always been Bianca’s favorite neighbor, that’s no secret, but this is a tightly concealed side of her that neither of them have ever really seen. It’s concern. Worry. But not for herself, for them. Even if it does come off as something else. This is just something not usually associated with her.
“Okay,” Bianca says carefully, “What the fuck is going on.”
“That’s what I want to know,” Alyssa agrees, lips pursed skeptically, “Adore told me y’all were making waffles.”
It’s absurd. The fire alarm is still blaring. Adore has crushed herself into a nook, looking petrified. Bianca is very hungover and her most beloved annoying neighbor is standing in her house at way too early o’clock.
Bianca suddenly realizes that even though there’s no fire, there’s still smoke in her apartment, and she really wants that alarm to shut the fuck up. Also, the smoke is going to stain her expensive shit if she doesn’t get it out.
She starts to open all the windows in the main room, and is grateful when Alyssa comes to help her. They make short work of it, and when she turns around to look at her best friend, she feels scared.
She’s scared that Adore might be hurt. She’s scared that she didn’t do anything to prevent this. But mostly she’s scared that something might be broken between them.
For the first time since walking in, Bianca notices bowls spread across her kitchen counter. Bowls and boxes and whisks… It clicks.
“Okay,” Bianca exhales, “Alyssa, what the fuck did you just say about waffles?”
“Adore came to me a little while ago and asked me if I could lend you two some waffle ingredients,” Alyssa starts slowly, “And I think to myself, ‘Now Alyssa Edwards, as a woman of God it is your duty to love your neighbor and let her make some waffles on this beautiful morning-’”
“Alyssa, you let my dumbass kid do WHAT?! You fucking know she can’t cook! We have had this conversation a hundred times!”
“Well, Adore said to me ‘Bianca and I’ not ‘I’m going to’! I thought you were gonna be helping her!”
“WHY WOULD YOU ASSUME THAT? WHEN HAVE I EVER COOKED?!”
“I’m sorry!” Adore snaps, her voice quivering and tears welling up in her eyes, causing Bianca and Alyssa to turn to her, “I’m so, so sorry- I didn’t mean for this to happen! I just- I just wanted-”
Bianca stares at Adore with shock, not fully comprehending everything happening. Between her hangover and the sheer chaos of the first fifteen minutes of being awake, she’s not entirely sure why Adore is so distressed. Adore starts whispering ‘I’m sorry’ over and over to herself, hugging her knees tight to her chest, tears starting to crawl down her face, and it hits Bianca like a train.
“Alyssa…” Bianca says slowly, but she’s unable to tear her eyes away from Adore.
Adore’s blaming herself completely and totally. And it makes sense, she is the one that started the whole mess. But Bianca can’t stand that look on Adore’s face. She’d much rather put the blame on Alyssa (who can more than handle it) instead of Adore (who is currently having a nervous breakdown).
But Adore isn’t having it.
“No, this is my fault. I’m not- I’m not that stupid, Bianca. I’m not that useless, either. I’m not a kid. I’m not someone you should leave supervision for. I’m fucking twenty-four. Stop treating me like I’m not,” Adore’s words are cold, but her face tells Bianca the musician is falling apart, “Look me in the eye, Bianca.”
“Yell at me,” Adore says.
She can’t. Bianca doesn’t even want to. She feels like she failed here, because Adore isn’t her kid but God does it feel like it sometimes.
“We’ll replace your stuff, Alyssa,” is what Bianca says instead.
Luckily, the woman accepts that as her cue to go. She gives Bianca a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she leaves, and sends air kisses Adore’s way. Adore gives Alyssa a weak smile.
The door closes. Bianca and Adore lock eyes.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Bianca says. It’s a tired, worried voice. Not at all what Adore was expecting, or even wanted.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Adore answers simply, arms crossed defensively over her chest, “You do so much for me. For everyone. And I know you said last night we’d do it together but I just… I wanted to do something for you.”
That alone melt’s Bianca’s heart. It’s been getting easier and easier lately for Adore, and by extension the rest of their friends, to do that. For a while she thought moving to this city was stupid, and probably the worst decision of her life. But even now, after such a chaotic fucking twenty-five minutes of being awake, Bianca is so happy she’s here.
“Next time, buy me something online,” Bianca says, warm and forgiving, instead of cold and biting like Adore would’ve expected.
The younger practically runs into Bianca’s open arms. The embrace is full of love, and Adore feels that it’s okay. She still blames herself, she’s still stupidly upset, but Bianca… Bianca makes her feel like everything will be okay.
They sit there hugging for a few minutes, then Bianca mutters, “Good thing you knew how to use that extinguisher, I think that’s been hanging there for ten years.”
Adore chuckles wetly, face buried into Bianca’s shoulder, “Yeah… Hey, shouldn’t have all the other alarms gone off too?”
Bianca freezes. Adore is right, all the other fire alarms in the building should’ve had people evacuating.
“I guess the building needs to get that fixed, huh? Maybe you being a walking disaster is a good thing after all, if that had been real, everyone would’ve been fucked.”
“Wow,” Adore whispers, “Maybe our building should get that checked too…? Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“What?!” Bianca asks, pulling away from Adore to see what’s wrong.
“I never went home last night,” Adore says, “I never charged my phone. I never texted my roommates.”
Bianca suddenly doubles over laughing, fully bellied and absolutely batshit crazy, “Good, Courtney doesn’t get nearly enough stress in her life!”
Adore breaks out into a grin, and feels her worries start to melt away. Somehow, Bianca is really fucking good at doing that.
“Alright,” Bianca sighs, looking at the pure mess that is now her kitchen, “Let’s charge our phones and order breakfast.”
And they do.
Neither would’ve spent the hour following that disaster any other way.
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Captain Canary + “you’re not safe here.”
Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544165/chapters/71160003
Sara can feel her stomach churning, and tears burning beneath her eyelids.
She has hated Lewis Snart for a long time now. The only comfort she has ever been able to take with the thought of him is that he is dead, and it was a very painful death.
Or at least, that was his fate before an aberration appeared.
She and Leonard were in the training room this morning, each doing their separate exercises. She’d been going through some of her forms whilst Len had been behind her across the room and hitting the punching bag. Eventually she noticed she hadn’t heard him in awhile, but she hadn’t heard him leave either. When she turned around he was gone, and before she could start looking for him Gideon called her to bridge.
She found out what happened, and immediately she had wanted to throw up.
It was the same thing that happened with Ray on the mission that brought them to the 80’s. There’s an aberration, and a past version of Leonard died.
That aberration? An extra crewmember for Lewis being free on the weekend of a heist because turns out the Time Masters pulling strings had been what kept him away. The heist still failed, but instead of getting busted this extra crewmember was able to get a very ill tempered Lewis out and home free. Where he took out his anger on his pregnant wife, and then his nine-year-old son who ran in to protect his mom and baby sister.
Little Leonard didn’t stand a chance.
Leonard – their Leonard – is back for now, because they’ve traveled back to before Lewis returns home and so the timeline isn’t yet set.
No, she is not ok.
She’s with Mick, heading to the Snart household to get Little Leonard and his mom out. Their Len is with Ray and Amaya, staking out the heist and making sure the police come early, which they will so long as they act on the tip Zari is sending them.
She glares over at Mick, her expression saying for her how she is very much not ok, and then she sets her eyes forward again.
“His mom is pregnant.” She says as they come up on the house, and Mick hums.
“Yeah.” He agrees, “Time keeps on track, Lisa will be here and pissing everyone off in ‘bout a month.”
“That’s not the point.”
She doesn’t look, but she can feel Mick eyeing her. He gives it a minute, until they’re at the front gate made of rotting white-picket-fence, and he sighs as he nudges it open.
“Believe me Blondie, nothing would make me happier than putting that asshole eight feet in the ground, especially before he hurts Lisa. But if we do that her and Snart become different people.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She mumbles before she can stop herself.
Mick rumbles at the back of his throat and eyes her, but he doesn’t say anything about her choice of words; he knows what she means.
They get up to the front door and he reaches for the knob, but his hand hovers above it, his eyes locked firmly on the door.
“Snart will get his chance.” He says, almost more to himself than to her, before he finally looks at her. “If Lewis shows up here, he made the choice.”
She… She knows he’s right. She still feels sick, and like she isn’t going to be sleeping for a long time after tonight, but he’s right. This is Leonard’s life and his decision. Unless he comes over the comms and tells her otherwise, if Lewis shows up here she won’t kill him; no matter how much she wants to.
Mick opens the door and it creaks open, and right away there’s the sound of movement coming from the kitchen. Its dishes rummaging around, glass, and given the time it’s a safe bet it isn’t a third grade Leonard Snart looking around for a late-night snack.
“I’ll get her.” Mick says, and then nods to the stairs next to them. “You get him.”
She nods; content to let him make the plan this one time, and hurries up the stairs. She doesn’t take enough precaution to keep her footsteps quiet, she wants him to wake up. She does, however, keep them light and quick; because what she doesn’t want is to take the risk he might mistake her for his father.
The upstairs hallway is small, barely five feet long and with two doors on each wall. The first is propped open, a dark bathroom on the inside. The second is closed, but the plush L hanging on it being a soft white color with tiny pink flowers clues her in that it might not be the dwelling of a nine-year-old boy. The next door, however, it has a nameplate with Leonard spelled out on it in crooked stickers and it’s frame is decorated with the images of astronauts and aliens.
She allows herself a tiny smile; letting herself forget for just half a second the reason she is here and instead bask in the peek into Leonard’s childhood.
Then her half-second is over, and with a gentle hand on the knob she turns it and lets herself into the room.
It’s dark, not even the dimmest of nightlights to offer comfort. She wonders, idly, about that. She knows Leonard now prefers to sleep without a hint of light, but she doubts he became that way this young of his own accord.
She decides not to dwell on it, not now anyway. Instead she pads across the room and kneels down next to his bed. His adult self would have heard her by now. He would have opened his eyes; he might even have jumped. But this Leonard is still snoring softly and it breaks her heart that she has to wake him.
“Leo.” She whispers, her hand coming to ghost over his back.
He stiffens, his entire body giving a jolt as is eyes snap open.
“Shh… It’s ok.” She hurries to say. “It’s ok, I know you don’t know me, but I’m a friend of your mom’s. She called me, you guys are going to come with me and my friend for a sleepover.”
God, she hopes little Snart hasn’t been well taught in the art of not getting kidnapped.
He sits up; looking at her in very much the same way her Leonard does when he’s trying to determine where her plan is going to land them.
Her breath hitches as she tries to think of a lie. Except what’s worse is she realizes he’s nine. Leonard has told her Lewis first came after him at the age of eight, and while he didn’t earn himself a permanent scar until eleven, at nine he already knew it was best to avoid daddy when he was angry.
“You’re dad called from work.” She says, watching his eyes for some kind of sign of fear, and she sees it. A flicker, a faint tightening of his body, and it makes her gut twist even more. “Something went wrong tonight, and he’s very angry about it.”
There’s another tightening of his body. His shoulders close in and his eyes flit away from her, and automatically she spreads her fingers out on his back.
“It’s ok.” She promises him, and licks her lips to force herself to continue. “But you’re not safe here.”
He shifts by only the tiniest amount, but it’s towards her, and she needs him to hurry but she doesn’t want to rush him.
“Boss!” Mick’s voice suddenly shouts from downstairs, and Leo jumps where he is. “We gotta move, you coming?”
She looks back to Leo, and she almost wants to call back and see if his mother will yell up that it’s ok, but it’s Mick in charge if getting her. She’s probably unconscious by now.
She dares to put a little more pressure forward with the hand on his back, and he follows it. He lets himself fall into her and wrap his arms around her neck. He’s a little awkward to stand up with and carry, tall enough that he should be walking himself. But she isn’t going to put him down unless she absolutely has to.
“You didn’t kill him.”
Leonard – her Leonard – looks up at her, and after holding her eyes for a long moment he sighs and puts his partially assembled cold gun on his nightstand.
“Raymond wouldn’t let me.”
She raises her eyebrow, not that he’s looking anymore. His eyes are downcast, his mouth a firm line, and she gives him time but she’s starting to think he isn’t going to elaborate. That’s fine, she can’t expect him to want to share anything. She’s about to bid him goodnight and then go spend the next six to ten hours sharpening her knives and imagine them carving into the flesh of Lewis-
His words are quiet, so much so that a part of her thinks she might have imagined them. But then he sighs and leans over to the nightstand again, this time picking up his famous deck of cards and beginning to shuffle them mindlessly.
He glances up at her, and she takes the hint and steps into his room and closes the door behind her.
Even so, it’s some time before he speaks.
“I wanted to.” He finally says, “And you know I could’ve gotten through Raymond.”
He finally looks at her with that, waiting for her to acknowledge his attempt at humor, and she gives him a smirk.
Then it’s back to shuffling the cards.
“But… If I had… then I wouldn’t be here would I?”
He brings his eyes back to her, and she looks away.
“No.” She agrees, “You would’ve had a different life.”
A better life, but she doesn’t need to say that.
“No telling what that might have brought.” He acknowledges, “You wipe the memory of little me?”
She nods, “And your mom.”
He nods this time, and gives the cards another shuffle.
“My and Lisa’s childhoods were… awful.” He says, “Not a day goes by I don’t wish things had been different. Getting the chance…”
He trails off, gathering his thoughts, and she’ll give him that. She’ll give him all the time that he needs.
“Lisa’s happy now.” He finally says, “She has Ramon, and all those other idiots. And I…” He swallows, “I have some idiots of my own. Couldn’t risk that.”
She smiles, and she wants to tease him. She wants to taunt that Captain Cold does have a heart and she’ll never tell. Maybe tomorrow she will, but not right now. Right now he has unshed tears in his eyes, and his face is pale. He’s even less likely to sleep tonight than she is.
So she crosses the room and without a word crawls in to sit next to him on his mattress. He scoots enough to give her space, but she still presses right into his side and lays a hand down over his wrist with hardly any weight to it.
“Good.” She finds herself saying, and she runs her fingers up is hand until she dips them between his knuckles. “Because these idiots would be lost without you.”
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You Never Forget Your Second: A Glitra College AU
Written for @entraptasbitch
They requested: "a collage/modern au where catra and adora recently broke up and then glitra happens"
My first college AU! With some Glitra! I based the college itself and the town and the diner off my own college experience!
Want to request something? Message me @Catracorner962 on Tumblr!
Like my work? Toss a coin to your writer, oh fanfic's a plenty!
It wasn’t a bad breakup. Not really...it wasn’t terrible or dramatic. There was no screaming match, no throwing things, no threats or empty promises to change or make things right. There were no curses or tears. Well….maybe some tears. On Adora’s part. But so what? She was the one breaking up with Catra. If she cried then good. It’s not like Catra was about to weep and beg for her back no matter how hard Adora cried.
We need time to heal, is what Adora had said in the dining hall. The two of them sequestered away at an empty table in the far corner. Each of us in our own way….separately.
Catra shouldered her back and shuffled across campus, head down against the cold wind.
It was better this way. It would be better...and I don’t need Adora anyway.
Still, the thought of having to see her girlfriend...ex-girlfriend, around campus all the time made Catra want to scratch someone. She slunk into class, making her way to the back of the room as per usual, her hood still up and headphones on.
“Sorry I’m late mom..sorry...Professor!”
Catra looked up at the shimmer of sparkling pink. Glimmer appeared in a rush, nervously fiddling with her things as she took up her usual seat at the front of the class. Catra rolled her eyes.
Glimmer thinks she can just teleport in here anytime she wants cuz her mom is the Professor. Give me a break.
“That’s fine Glimmer, take your seat.”
The class continued on, something something ethics theory, something something.
Catra doodled on the side of her notebook, as soon as the bell rang she jumped from her seat, out the door. Were it a normal day, she’d wait for Adora to get out of her history class. She stopped herself in her tracks, storming from the hall back out into the chilly quad.
“Hey Catra! Catra!...Catra?”
Someone shouted through the music in her ears. She looked up, half hoping for Adora to be calling her name.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Adora told me you guys decided to take a break,” his earnest eyes threatened to punch through her hard exterior but she stood firm.
“I’m fine. That’s what she wanted….it’ll be fine.”
Bow looked unconvinced.
“Okay, well if you need anyone to talk to…” he fell in step with her as she attempted to walk back to her dorm. “Glimmer and I broke up after fall break,” he admitted slowly. Catra stopped, looking at him quizzically.
“We’re still friends!” He rushed to sugar coat the issue. “We are! I actually...it was me who...well...point is we are still friends but breakups are tough. If you need anything..let me know.”
He nodded, waiting for her to take him up on the offer. She didn’t.
“I’ll see you around.”
She watched him attempt to reach out and touch her arm but she flinched away on instinct. Bow attempted to recover smoothly, settling for an awkward fist bump instead.
“Wwll...if you want, it's a Friday night...we were going to go into town and get a drink.”
“Will Adora be there?” The name hurt to say. Bow shrugged in a way that already confirmed her suspicions.
“Maybe. Thanks Bow.”
He smiled warmly giving her a curt nod and turning towards Sage Hall.
Catra watched him go.
Scorpia’s exuberant yell greeted her the moment she opened their door. Catra sighed, shrugging off her backpack.
“Hey Scorpia,” she managed, trying not to sound as irritated as she was. “Where’s Entrapta?”
“Oh! She’s over a Hordak’s again,” Catra nodded. Ever since those two became lab partners their third roommate spent more and more time over at his apartment off campus, leaving her to take the brunt of Scorpia’s unending enthusiasm.
“You done with class for the day?”
“I am!” Scorpia turned from her small desk, practically bounding over to Catra who instinctively reeled back. “You got any plans tonight? It’s Friday! I figured we could stay in, have some pop corn, watch a movie, talk about our feelings and then go to the diner in town in the morning and…”
“Scorpia,” Catra tried, going to sit on her bed and pulling her knees up to her chest, “I think I just need some space tonight okay?”
Her roommate crouched beside her on the floor, one large claw resting on her knee.
“Ohhh is it Adora? Is it because she broke up with you? Because if you need a shoulder to cry on look no further than right here! I’ll be here for you roomie, we can get through this together.”
Catra stood, snarling.
“How does everyone know that?! Did she announce it to the whole campus?! I just need space Scorpia!”
The other woman stood back, nodding.
“Okay...a..anything you say roomie!”
Catra clenched her fists but nodded, per Adora’s advice she’d been trying to be more patient with Scorpia.
“Well, I’m going to head to the dining hall. It’s almost dinnertime! Don’t you hate those late classes? Want to join me?”
“Nah thanks,” Catra sat back down, laying on her side facing the wall.
“Want me to bring you anything?”
She heaved a sigh,
“No thanks Scorpia, I’m really good. Go eat."
She felt the other girl’s eyes watching her back and waited until she finally stepped away, closing the door and walking down the hall.
Only then, did she allow the tears to rise.
Catra groaned, rolling over on the small twin-bed to where her clock flashed brightly.
Was I out that long?
Scorpia hadn’t come back yet, probably out with Perfuma. Catra thought bitterly. She tried to sleep again, but to restless. She sighed, standing.
Maybe I should just go to the bar...even if Adora’s there...there’s probably music and...maybe I could watch Kyle try to go shot for shot with Lonnie and end up taking off his clothes, again.
She learned a while ago that anything was better than being alone with her own thoughts. Especially thoughts of Adora.
Sighing, Catra peeled off her grungy sweatpants and hoody. If she was going out, she was going all out.
Maroon suit, fingerless gloves, her hair extra wild. She applied her eye-liner, cats eye of course, and took one final look in the mirror, smiling.
Adora’s going to lose her mind. That’ll show her.
Catra strode from her dorm with renewed confidence, across the main front lawn of campus, past the brick entrance, into town. The streets are already booming with music and parties. It was a nice college town, far better than the neighborhood where she and Adora grew up. Catra forced a smile, even as she traversed the icy cold, down the sidewalk to their local haunt, a dive bar where all the college kids went because they never looked twice at your ID.
Catra cut in through the door, immediately enveloped in the smell of beer and sweat. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light easily, searching for any sign of Adora’s stupid blonde hair poof.
Only one person called her that nickname, courtesy of the T-shirt she’d been wearing the first day of class.
“Wow Catra! You look really good!”
Glimmer shouted over the music, sloshing her drink.
“I’m glad you decided to come out!”
Really? Cuz ’m starting to have second thoughts.
“You alright there Sparkles?”
Catra reached her arms out on instinct as Glimmer swayed a little, catching herself just in time.
“I….I…..Bow broke up with me!” Glimmer exploded. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Yeah where is Bow? Is he with Adora? I’m trying to find….”
Glimmer stumbled forward, this time spilling her drink entirely onto the floor.
“I...I don’t feel so good.”
“I think you’ve had enough Sparkles, let’s get you some fresh air.”
Catra sighed, grasping Glimmer by the arm and wedging through the crowd, her eyes still scanning for any sign of Adora.
She tugged Glimmer back through the door, out onto the icy sidewalk.
“I’m sorry,” Glimmer wined, her breath puffing out in a tiny cloud each time she spoke. “I’m sorry! It’s just...Bow...he broke up with me and...and I’m so selfish because I know Adora also broke up with you I shouldn’t even be complaining to you!”
“It’s fine Sparkles, it’s okay. Did you come here with them?”
Glimmer shook her head, eyes still filled with tears.
“Okay,” Catra tried. “Let’s just...get you back to campus and get you some water, come on.”
Glimmer didn’t protest even as Catra led her away.
So much for finding Adora.
Still, Sparkles was a welcome distraction. Catra guided her up to her dorm room, hoping Scorpia was still out.
“Scorpia? You here?”
Catra knocked, once, twice, three times. Then finally pushed open the door to their dark room.
“Sit here, I’ll get you some water.”
Glimmer flopped down on Catra’s bed. Giggling at something. Catra only huffed, walking to the common area kitchen to get her a glass.
Glimmer lifted the glass to her lips, promptly spitting it out.
“It’s not Vodka?” She pouted.
“No, it’s not vodka. Now drink up.”
Glimmer groaned but did as she was told. Catra watched her, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“There, now just take it easy for a bit. I’ll walk you back to your room when you’re ready.”
Her insides twisted, knowing there was a very real possibility Adora would be there. Her and Glimmer were roommates after all.
“Why’re you being so nice to me?”
Glimmer’s face lit up with a cheeky grin. She leaned forward, collapsing against Catra’s chest. The girl immediately stiffened.
Because...without Adora...turns out... I don’t have that many friends. I want to change that.
“I dunno Sparkles. We’ve both had a rough few days.”
Glimmer snorted in agreement. Her head heavy on Catra’s chest. She leaned back against the wall, adjusting Glimmer gently until the other girl lay in her lap. It was nice….sitting here like this with someone. Someone...with whom she didn’t share such a turbulent weighted past. She rested her hand on the other girl’s head, feeling her soft pink hair.
She’s not so annoying when she isn’t in class.
“I think you’re nice Catra. No one else will say it. So I will, you’re nice you just don’t show it all that often.”
“Ha! Wow Sparkles you must be really drunk.”
Glimmer pulled upward, out of Catra’s hold and glared at her.
“I’m not! I mean it! You’re prickly but you're not mean. I think you’re protective...and you have good style and...you’re pretty,”
Glimmer leaned forward, uncomfortably close. Her breath against Catra’s lips suddenly sending a pleasing rush down her spine.
“Glimmer,” she breathed suddenly aware of how small the room was. How dark, now Glimmer’s eyes shone in the moonlight streaming through the window.
“Yes?” Glimmer’s fingertips played with her’s, warm and delicate, until their hands naturally wound together.
“Do you think….I...I could kiss you?”
The words were out before Catra could take them back. Glimmer glanced up at her, blinking through heavy lidded eyes. She squeezed Catra’s hand and ever so carefully tilted her head, closing the space between them.
Whatever Catra expected...it was not this. Not some sloppy drinken kiss on Glimmer’s part but...heated, nimble, assured. She kissed her deeply, hands going to grip both sides of Catra’s face firmly, keeping here in place.
Catra returned the gesture,one hand going to the back of Glimmer’s head, holding the curve of her skull through her hair. They kissed more, each of them as desperate as the other, Each refusing to let go. Catra nibbled at Glimmer’s lip,
“Sorry,” Catra gasped through kisses.
“Hmmm’s fine,” Glimmer moaned, taking Catra by the shoulders and pushing her down onto the bed.
“You sure you want to do this Sparkles?”
But Catra’s hands were already finding the other girl’s hips, fingers pushing up her shirt and running small circular motions against her skin. Glimmer’s legs straddled her, soft secure. She leaned down, flicking a stray lock of Catra’s hair from her face.
“Yeah, do you?”
Catra answered with another kiss, this one rougher, more aggressive. Glimmer gasped, laying her full weight down on top of her, smothering her with affection which Catra gladly received and reciprocated.
They moved in unison, Glimmer was so gentle, and perhaps not all that drunk at all...considering her impeccable speed and communication. She was courteous and passionate, gentle most of the time but surprisingly forward too. Her hands running along Catra’s torso.
“How long have you wanted to do this?”
Catra breathed, as Glimmer kissed her neck, shivering at a particularly sensitive spot.
“I don’t know...since I caught you staring at me during orientation?”
Catra nodded, turning her head to lick at Glimmer’s ear.
“Oh yeah, I was staring at your back, your wings.”
Glimmer let out a pleased sound, fingers digging into Catra’s side, their legs entwining. She made to answer, but Catra caught her tongue with her teeth, moving them carefully around until she was the one straddled over Glimmer, looking down at her from above. Glimmer had always been cute, but she was truly beautiful now. Catra smiled with fondness. She was so determined, so ambitious, so ready to prove herself. Smart as hell, kind but careful and oh so full! Full of everything Catra could ever hope to be, full of everything she herself was not. It was annoying at first, but now...so admirable, exhilarating.
Catra kissed her again, this time down her jaw to her neck, pulling down her shirt to her chest. One thing led to another...and another...until after some untold time the two had worn each other and themselves out.
“That was...that was fu..fun.” Glimmer curled up beside her, resting her head on Catra’s chest.
“It was,” Catra replied, breathless. She ran her fingers over Glimmer’s arm, gently back and fourth, half dazed and confused in euphoria.
“Want to go to the diner tomorrow morning?”
“Like...as a date?”
Catra turned to look into those shimmering purple pink eyes.
Glimmer smiled, nuzzling into the crook of Catra’s neck, breathing a sigh of contentment.
“Yeah, why not.”
“Ha, well it’s just...usually people date before they uhhh…” she gestured to the clothes on the ground. Glimmer only laughed harder; a sound Catra was sure she’d never tire of hearing.
“Yeah well you and I are far from the usual aren’t we?”
Catra’s chest inflated with light, she pulled Glimmer tighter against her.
“Yeah Sparkles, you’re right.” She placed a tender kiss on the girl’s brow.
“I’m always right Horde Scum.”
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Time after time (art by @invaderakira )
"Thanks for the ride, you two," Stevonnie smirked, climbing out of the backseat of Pearl's cream Impala, grabbing their bag as they did.
"It's not a problem, Stevonnie." The pale skin and peach haired teen offered.
"Yeah, it was good to see you, Vonnie." Bismuth added truthfully, with a smile, "Just wished Rose came with you. Been a while since we saw her, you know."
"Definitely would have been a nice surprise at Connie's birthday, especially since Steven didn't show." The disappointment in Pearl's voice was evident.
"Go easy on him, Pearl." Stevonnie requested, "He's going through something." They paused, looking up at their window on the third floor of the apartment turned dormitory. "As for Rose...I'll try to get her to join me for Christmas when I come back up, but she's been busy too." They chuckled, rubbing their nape. A tell-tale sign that they were holding something back.
They were never that good at hiding info, unlike their sister, Connie.
Bismuth and Pearl shared a glance but let it slide. If anybody was an expert on the subject of Rosarie Quartz Universe, it was Stevonnie Ashura Maheswaran.
"Well, If you say so." Pearl relented.
"Besides, we got to get to AMC," the rainbow dreadlocked ebony beauty reminded her 'friend.'
"Right."Pearl agreed as she revved up the engine before turning back to Stevonnie, "let Rose know where mad at her for not showing up and going," She teased, grinning.
"Tell Rose to drop us a line or something. We worry about you two." Bismuth added just as cheekily.
"Yeah, yeah. You guys are way too young for that." Stevonnie held their left hip as they put more weight on the corresponding leg, right hand holding their bag over their shoulder, "but, trust. I'll let her know."
Alright then," Bismuth buckled her seatbelt leading back, "We'll hit you up later. Keep you posted on the whole Connie-Steven situation."
"Bet." Stevonnie gave a toothy smirk, "You two have fun on your date."
The two younger women blushed but didn't say anything, Pearl opting to wave while Bismuth just rolled her eyes with an abashed smile before the two began to pull off from the curb.
With a sigh, the college sophomore turned to her apartment building of brick and marble and walked up the stone steps before opening and entering the crystal glass and gold plated door to the white tile and yellowed wall hallway.
“Hey Ty,” They waved at the security guard, a slightly older Afro-American man who sat behind the mahogany sign-in desk, as they always do.
“Oh, Stevonnie.” He greeted with a smirk as he looked up from his copy of the ‘rules of power,’ “How was your trip? Family doing good?”
“Yup, everyone doing good...Seen Rose today?”
Ty rubbed his head, “Naw. Haven’t seen her since you left.” he held his chin, “though, that’s par, of course. You guys did have a visitor,"
"Yeah, thick girl with blue hair in cone buns, I forget her name, but she was in our physics class. "
"Abrasive and haughty."
"Dark blue lipstick."
"Huh." Stevonnie kissed her teeth knowingly.
"Don't worry, didn't let her in." He assured, "Seemed a bit too forceful for a welcomed guest of yours and Rose."
"Thank you, Ty," They smirked, "really appreciate it."
"No problem, Von. Ah, and before I forget…" He reached behind the desk, pulling out a couple of boxes and handing them to Stevonnie. "You two got some mail."
"Thanks again, Ty." Stevonnie looked down at the boxes, smiling gently at the sender's name: Carmine Universe.
Rose's mother, better known as 'Aunt Pink' to Stevonnie.
"Another of your care packages from home?" Ty teased, getting a nod.
"They worry." Stevonnie jested. "Alright, time to see the girl herself." Stevonnie situated the boxes under their arms after they moved their bag strap between their breast."Thanks for everything, Ty." They chuckled.
"Yeah, no problem, Stevonnie. Give my regards to Rose." Ty requested before leaning back in his chair.
Ty gave them a nod before opening his book again as Stevonnie walked past, heading towards the elevator in the back of the hall.
Stevonnie lucked out to see the smoke-colored doors open, revealing one of the building tenants; a light-skin teenage girl with black hair and brown highlights.
"Hey Leona, hold that for me." They ran forward, catching the doors due to the girl's help. "Thanks, Leo."
"No problem," Leona responded, looking a bit confused, "you coming back from somewhere?"
"Visiting family," Stevonnie arched her left brow."Been gone for five days."
"Oh?" The teen looked away, uncomfortable.
"Ww~hh~hyy?" Stevonnie did not like Leona's shocked tone.
Leona pursed her lips in a thin line. "Well, Terrie and I heard some noise from your place two nights."
"Screaming, argumentative screaming."
' So, there is a chance... I'm going to have to fuck someone up this week.' Stevonnie pondered and nodded as they pressed their floor number. "Thanks for letting me know, Leo."
"Yeah." The woman responded a bit lower as the elevator door closed, getting a glance at the calm anger on Stevonnie's face.
Stevonnie drummed the boxes with their fingers as they waited for their floor inside the burgundy box. "She's probably going to try to play it off, like nothing, so gotta be watchful of that. I hope it was nothing more than a screaming match." Stevonnie sighed as the elevator door opened again, revealing the third floor.
Brown tiles and walls with five led lights and ten lined up doors greeted Stevonnie as they made the trek towards the eighth door of the floor, not too long of one since the third was across from the elevator. They could hear the sounds of televisions playing and various foods cooking as they made their way through the hall; usually, more people would be chilling in the lobby or the fifth-floor hall. "Guess the dorm's heads cracked down for the day." They chuckled; it was a natural thing; the third and fifth floor was a bit of a rowdy bunch.
Stevonnie stopped at their door and listened for any similar sounds. "Silence. No cooking or TV," They muttered, listening closer. They could hear slight music being played as well as…
The sounds of snoring.
"Well, she's here." Stevonnie teased softly, feeling a weight slid off their chest. Placing the boxes down, and digging into the back pocket of their jeans, they borough out their key to unlock the silver locks of the burgundy wood door. Slowly she turned the gold plated knob and pushed forward. They didn't want to wake Rose yet.
Making sure the door doesn't creak, Stevonnie opened the door wide, holding it with their foot as they slipped the packages inside; swiftly and silently before closing the door behind them. Just as quickly and just as quietly.
Grabbing the packages and looking around their space’s living room, Stevonnie kissed their teeth while putting the boxes on their glass table. The room was deep cleaned, tidy, nothing out of place, and meticulously organized. Same for the bathrooms, kitchen, and Rose's room, which Rose was not in at the moment.
"Which could only mean." Stevonnie began as they walked to their room. They opened the door cardboard wood door to a nicely sized 'L-shaped' bedroom.
The walls were painted purple, with a throw rug on the wooden floor. There was a closet on the left side of the entrance door, and at the left corner, a bookshelf filled with informative textbooks, manga, Blu-ray movies, and games. The right side had a beanbag chair in the corner.
In the north side pocket of the room, in front of the window, was their black, steel, 'L' computer desk, complete with a two-monitor computer setup and all they require to study, game, stream, or work. Beside it was a blue mini-fridge. Along down in the center of the wall sat a Bluetooth sound system playing the ambiance music Stevonnie heard from outside. Between the two was a wine redwood six-drawer dresser.
Opposite the wall at the south end was their bed 'set up.' A queen mattress on a raised metal platform, with two side tables on each side the same color as the dresser and on, said bed under their violet blanket, hugging their stuffed lion was Rose.
Stevonnie shook their head as they walked up to their bed and sat down beside them before peering down to closely examine Rose's face. Brushing some of her pink curls out of her cream-colored face, Stevonnie scanned for anything out of place beside Stevonnie’s cleaned room.
They brushed their thumb across Rose's soft cheeks, plump cupid-bow lips, and round upturned eyes, trying to see if she was wearing any makeup in an attempt to hide any bruises. They sighed in relief when they found nothing.
"At least that's a good thing to see." Stevonnie mused, caressing her long time friend scalp,
"Ah!" Rose groaned at the feel of her lump being glanced, her hand instantly going to the spot, " Tender, stop touching." Rose grimaced as she opened her eyes to the cause of her lumps aggravation. "Vonnie?" Her natural, velvety tone whispered before a small, soft smile graced her lips.
“Yo, Rose.”Stevonnie greeted, ruffling through Rose’s hair, careful of the lump. “Had a nice sleep? A nice five days alone?”
“Uneventful, Vonnie.” Rose grinned, letting go of the stuffed toy and laying her head upon her friend's lap.
“Really?” Stevonnie pursed their lips, nodding with their fingers on their lips,” Nothing at all?” They looked around their clean and tidy room, “So what with the cleaning job then? Not usually something either would do. Part of the reason we get along so well as roommates.”
“I thought it because we used to get into trouble together during our high school years.”
“You mean you used to get in trouble, and I bailed you out, time after time.”
“Cause you never got into trouble on your own, time after time.”
“You mean when I was saving your ass, defending your character, calling you out, or having your back. Time after time.”
“Tsch!” Rose turned to face Stevonnie’s deep brown eyes,” that goes both ways, you know that.”
“I do,” Stevonnie smirked, “ And I’m thankful for you always doing the same for me. Being someone, I can trust, fully.” They pressed their palms on the yellow star of their red shirt, a teasing smile on their face,” am I, someone you can trust, fully Ro-Ro? “
“Hmm.” Rose groaned, “I hate when you get like this.” She sneered, “all investigative and guilt building.”
“Well, I hate it when you try to lie to me.” Stevonnie countered.
“What am I lying about?” Rose implored
“For one.” Stevonnie brushed her hair, “why have you gone radio silent with Steven and the others? Not like you to go a whole month without contacting anyone from home.”
Rose remained silent for a moment, “Did mom and dad ask?”
“Along with everyone, but yes, Aunt Pink and Uncle Greg did ask...Also, Bismuth and Pearl wanted to come up and see you, but I figured that probably wouldn’t be for the best, at the moment.”
“Aw, I would have like to have seen them.” Rose grinned sadly, “ Are they together yet?”
“Eh?” Steveonnie waved their hand, “their...Something.” They arched a brow,” though. She’s definitely over her infatuation with you, sorry.”
Rose booped Stevonnie’s narrow nose, “Hey, who led my younger brother on?”
“Ah! NOOO!” Stevonnie shook their head, “I didn’t know until he told me he felt that way, especially since he treated Connie and me the same way. You!” they pressed Rose’s button nose, “knew that Pearl was feeling you for years and didn’t do anything to dissuade her, -tap- . It’s why we fought when we first met, remember.”
“You mean, sucker-punching me.”
“You deserved it, I apologized, and you got caught slipping.” Stevonnie chuckled, “besides,” Stevonnie tapped their chest. “Look what you got out of it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rose brushed it off with a chuckle, and a comfortable pause settled between the two of them.
”Why are you hiding what happened, Ro-Ro? WHAT are you hiding. Ro-Ro?”
Rose hummed at the worry in her friend’s voice, “nothing, Von-von. Don’t worry about it.” She gave Stevonnie a grin, “I got it.”
“Is that why there was screaming heard two nights ago?”
Rose remained silent.
“Why you cleaned our usually messy home?”
“Why there’s a bump on your head?”
“Actually, that was an accident.” Rose admitted, “Hit my head dozing off during a late-night...Hard. Leaned right off the chair and slammed onto the floor.”
Stevonnie shook their head, laughing a bit, “Yeah… That tracks, clumsy Rose.”
Rose huffed, “You love me.”
“And because I love you. I worry, in particular, when you act very differently from my best friend. So spill it.” Stevonnie poked Roses’s cheek, “What’s going on, Rosebud?”
“ Rosebud, huh?” Rose sighed, “that’s dirty...Using that name.”
“Yeah, but now you know I’m serious.”
“Yeah…” Rose rubbed her head in annoyance, “good job making me feel like a burden.”
“I mean, it been eight years. Being a burden at times comes with being a blessing. It’s what makes friendship so interesting.” Stevonnie sighed, “I just lucked out that you’re way more of a blessing than a burden.”
“Stars,” Rose groaned at Stevonnie’s victorious grin, “Fine, I’ll spill.” Rose patted the Indian beauty cheek, “ if only to give me some peace of mind.”
“Appreciate it, Ro-Ro.” Stevonnie grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “ Now speak.”
Rose sighed before she began her tale. “Ok, so, you know I started my internship at Scion labs eight weeks ago.”
“Yeah, How’s that going, by the way?” Stevonnie started, “Connie was gonna choose that as her work-study next year.”
“Hehe, uh.” Rose pursed her lips in a straight line. “Well, I feel better about that now than I would’ve, a few weeks ago.” She held her finger up to stop Stevonnie from asking questions, “Let me talk.”
Stevonnie nodded, agreeing just to listen as Rose spoke of what happened a few weeks prior and how it related to her communication blackout, as well as what happened when Stevonnie was gone.
“So...Within the first two weeks of my being at the lab, my supervisor, Ms. Lane, gave me more attention than the other interns she had under her. Letting me in on some projects and promotion they were doing. Saying that she was grooming me for when I become a member of Scion labs. It's part of the reason why I was coming back late during that time. So in the third week, she had a business conference.”
“I know you were gone for three days. Said you had a nice hotel and all that but had to cut it short.”
“Yeah...Well. That was a lie...I didn’t tell you everything that happened during that time.”
Stevonnie did not like the sudden drop of temperature in her friends’ tone of voice, “Am I gonna have to beat someone’s ass.” They huffed, kissing their teeth.
“Ease, Vonnie. Let me finish, Yeah? Yeah…So the second night of the conference, Ms. Lane decides to take us out to celebrate and see the city. We went to this nice Korean BBQ, had a good time, ate some good food, drank some sake, it was charming...time...Until it wasn’t.”
Stevonnie took note of the hurt in Rose’s voice, taking her friend’s hand in theirs and kissing her knuckles, a sign that they wouldn’t think anything less of Rose, no matter what.
“I don’t remember what happened after getting back to the hotel, but I woke up in a bed that wasn’t mine, in nothing but my boyshorts and a blouse that wasn’t mine, next to a passed out Ms.Lane, who was bare. I gathered my stuff, crept out of the room before running to mines, and just claimed to be sick for the rest of the trip. I could not look at the woman at the moment. Matter of fact, I got a cab and left.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Stevonnie implored.
“Cause I didn’t know what happened and didn’t wanna instantly jump to the worst conclusion.” Rose nearly barked, “I still wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was my supervisor and helped me a lot during that time...Plus, I didn’t want to bother you with what I thought was a possibility.”
“What… What you thought?”
The cold, protective rage in Stevonnie's voice was sweet to Rose but was that precisely why she didn’t tell her best friend and self-appointed protector.
“Yeah, a week after she all but confirmed it.” Rose started again. “One night, Lane caught me as I was trying to leave, ask me to stay behind to discuss the following week’s assignments—thoroughly business-like...Once, she got me into her office and got me to sit in front of her desk...She forced herself on me.” Rose shuddered in disgust. “She threatened my internship, held it hostage.” Her voice began to break as she shut her eyes to keep from crying. “She grabbed me and told me I was out if I didn’t repay her affection from the night in her hotel room.” She gripped Stevonnie shirt like a lifeline, trying to calm down. It took a few minutes and Stevonnie to hold her close to do so.
“Rosebud..” Stevonnie started.
“I didn’t do it…” Rose assured her, sniffling a little. “I knocked her across her temple, hard.”
“That’s my girl.” Stevonnie knew just exactly how hard Rose could hit. She was a near six-foot, robust and curvy stunner who can (and has) knock out grown-ass men since high school. She was also one of the sweetest, most kind, and unintentional flirtatious people Stevonnie knows. Traits Stevonnie swear she inherited from her mother. Looks and personality, just bigger on both fronts.
"Did you try to kill her?"
"No!" Rose grimaced, "Or not intentionally, she did hit her head on the way down, but I was too concerned with just getting away to check." She admitted, "I felt sick and ashamed knowing that someone I looked up to, even slightly, would take advantage of me like that. I just shut down internally. Drove into my work and studies cause the labs kept me despite everything. At the moment, I was working remotely. As for Lane, she was expelled from the labs...I don't even know how far she went, but still..."
"I'm so sorry you went through that, Rose." Stevonnie hugged her friend, "but I still wished you told me what happened. Instead of just handling it by yourself."
"I didn't handle it, more like it resolved itself…Somehow." Rose admitted, hugging her back, "Someone was watching out for me and was also a victim; they said something, I guess...At least that's what I got from Holly when she came by two nights ago, trying to start some mess."
"Holly?" Stevonnie looked at Rose with narrowed eyes, "Holly Agustine with the cone hairdo and blue lipstick? She came looking for trouble?"
Rose nodded, "She actually liked sleeping her way through the internship and blamed me for Lane's firing, said I took away her golden ticket. Victim-blame me." Rose looked down, "said If I didn't want the attention, I shouldn't have been so needy."
"Oh! Fuck her!" Stevonnie announced in rage. "I better not see that bitch try to act all civil with me."
"Don't, sweetie," Rose said, patting Stevonnie’s fist. "You don't need to fight for me."
Stevinnue sucked their teeth in response before breathing out, "I'm not going to look to fight her actively."
"But if I catch her coming out her face. Specifically, if your name is involved - knock-" Stevonnie smacked their first into their palm to make their point.
Rose said nothing, but she did chuckle. "My hero," she teased before breathing out.
"Thanks," Stevonnie smiled gently.
"...Opening up Ro-Ro." Stevonnie brushed Rose's hair, "I know it must be hard to speak on it."
"It's...still pretty fresh." Rose confessed, "but it's a bit lighter now." She held Stevonnie by the waist, "thanks for forcing me to speak on it and listening to me, just being here for me."
"No need to thank me, Ro-Ro. We got each other, time after time."
Rose shook her but didn't argue, feeling content.
"So, what about your radio silence?" Stevonnie inquired, "Not saying you have to tell anyone about this, but a bit of contact would ease everyone else's mind and could help you too.."
Rose hummed, "I guess. Just give me time…"
"Yeah, on your own time."
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The Reunion (Hawk x reader)
If you're comfortable I would like a Story where Tory takes the Cobras to a college Party. Where they see the always "silent" girl who reads Books, partying like one of the College girls and he is kinda dumbstruck by her. And he finds out she lives with her brother and the other Students.
Warnings: It’s a bit steamy, so +18, read at your own risk.
A/n: This was an anonimous request I received a while ago, I hope you like it! ^^
It was all Tory's idea. After Miguel won the All Valley tournament, the cobras had celebrated victory with the sensei, but Tory thought there was something even better they could do. College partying.
At first not everyone was convinced with the idea. After all, they were still minors. However, who wouldn't like a proper party? Hawk was especially excited. After all, he would be able to act as himself without people constantly remembering about Eli. Maybe he would even find a girl…
'Let's go guys!' shouted the blonde from the car.
The cobras were looking fire. All of them had decided to wear some cool clothes and Tory had already talked to her university friends about how cool the cobras were, so the night seemed to be going to be amazing.
They pulled up at a house none of them knew (well, besides Tory) and she led them inside. Aisha and the boys saw themselves surrounded by loud music, people dancing, alcohol and what seemed to be anticipated a night of good fun. All of them separated to get drinks, dance or talk to someone. After an hour or so, Hawk got bored of Tory's introductions and he went to the kitchen to grab a drink. He was pouring some vodka with lime in his paper cup, when he was struck by a vision. A figure that was dancing right in front of him, a few feet away. As if the lights only saw her, she seemed to be the only one on the dance floor. With an outfit that suited her perfectly, she was swaying her hips to the beat of the music and grabbing her friend's hands to make her dance as well. Hawk couldn't do anything else but stare for a long time. He studied her body, her movements, the lines and expressions in her face. Her gorgeous features seemed slightly familiar to him…
'A picture would last longer' Miguel said, behind him.
'I know that girl. I've seen her before'. Hawk thought out loud.
Miguel looked too.
'Bro, that's Y/N Y/L/N!'
Hawk looked at his friend, surprised.
'What? Y/N? That can't be her… I mean, look at her… she's partying like crazy!'
'So?' said Miguel shrugging.
He stopped to think. Well, you had been one of his friends back at school. You lived with your brother, who was a tutor for both Dimitri and Eli until both of you moved to uni, since you were both a year older than the pair. Eli remembered you and some sweet memories came back to his head. While your brother was explaining them some maths Dimitri assured he knew how to do, you would be baking something in the kitchen or offering them something to drink. He recalled once when you told off some boys that were messing with his lip and spent the rest of lunch talking to him about The Lord of the Rings. He loved watching you read nonstop, all the time and everywhere, and he would even leave titles you had mentioned to him around so that you thought there were small library systems on the street. He had had the fattest crush on you since the very beginning, but you had left Reseda a while before he had become Hawk, so he was not confident enough to do anything about it.
‘Dude’ said Miguel ‘Go talk to her!’
‘No! I mean… She won’t recognize me…’
Miguel pushed him towards you and raised his eyebrows, encouraging him. The boy swallowed heavily and walked towards you, but soon Hawk’s confidence vanished when you laid your eyes on him. He noticed that you were wearing some sparkly eyeshadow and eyeliner, that made your eyes colour more present over your features. After a moment of confuse looks between the two of you, your friend raised an eyebrow and asked:
He gulped and blushed, flush thankfully hidden by the flashing lights that followed the beat.
‘I… Y/n? I don’t know if you remember me…’
You frowned, your mouth suddenly shaping an “o”.
‘Eli? Is that you?’
His heart fluttered. You remembered him. He smiled broadly.
‘Omg, Eli! It’s you! Come over here, let’s talk!’
You waved to your friend, touching her arm to ensure her you were going to be okay and led the mohawk boy to the front door. Once you were both outside, you turned to face him. He had changed quite a lot, and you liked it. He had grown taller and for what you could see through the plain white t-shirt he was wearing, he had become fitter too. You looked at him in the eyes and smiled broadly.
‘Eli! I can’t believe it! Look at you!’
He was flustered, still looking for the right thing to say. He decided to go for something easy.
‘Thanks, you… you don’t look bad yourself…’
You felt the heat rising to your head and smiled down at your outfit.
‘Well… Yeah, I’m trying to fit in the “partying life”, it’s a bit new for me…’
‘Yeah, I didn’t recognise you at first’ said he, already feeling more comfortable.
‘Said the guy that now wears a mohawk’
He laughed and you did the same.
‘Yeah, I do karate now’
‘Really? Well… It looks good on you. I like this new confidence you have’.
For a minute, both of you looked at each other and around awkwardly. Then, he spoke again.
‘You made it to uni’
‘Yeah!’ you answered ‘Yeah, I’m living with Jackson (your brother) and some of his friends, but they are in another party… Wow… Wait until I tell him about this!’
Hawk smiled, feeling nostalgic.
‘You know, a lot of things happened since you left…’
And he proceeded to tell you. You sat on the porch listening to him narrate everything about his sensei, Miguel, his new friends, how karate had changed his life… You were extremely proud of him and reacted to his various stories in many different ways. Once he was over, you told him about university, your degree, the people you knew there… Even about a boyfriend you had for a couple of weeks, who turned out to be an asshole. You felt the boy tense beside you and took his hand with a concerned look on your face.
‘Eli, are you okay?’
He immediately relaxed under your touch. That was your effect on him after so long without seeing each other. Then was when he realised he was actually in love with you. He had looked at you with all puppy eyes while talking about all the books you were reading for your courses and about all of those experiences you had lived while you were gone. He adored listening to you ranting about teachers, boys and bossy classmates, he adored you.
‘Y/n… I have to tell you something…’
‘I already know, Eli’
‘What…?’ he looked at you, completely startled.
‘I know you had a crush on me’
‘Well… I actually still have a crush on you’
You raised your eyebrows. You were not expecting this. However, and without much thinking, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and brought him closer to you, leaving a tender kiss on his lips. He returned the kiss and when you got away to look at his response, you saw his pupils widen. Grabbing his neck now, you kissed him deeply, hungryly even. It was evident that the boy had been longing for you and after seeing you dancing like that, he remembered all those feelings and was now portraying them into the kiss. You were both making out by now, and suddenly felt the need to breathe. Panting, you looked at each other and you got up. Grabbing his wrist, you guided him inside and up to one of your friend’s rooms. Closing the door behind you, you turned to face Hawk. He was looking at you as startled, up and down. You felt a chill and smirked lightly. He got closer to you and leaned forward to kiss you once again. Grabbing his back and biceps, you pressed your body against his and felt him slowly guiding you to the bed. You sat and he pulled you softly so that you could lay down. Now on top of you, he kept kissing your lips, your jaw and your neck. When you felt his hand moving up over your leg, you got back to the real world. Grabbing his wrist, you broke the kisses and looked at Hawk in the eyes.
‘Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…’
‘No, no, it’s alright. I want this, I do… But not here… Not in my best friend’s guest room…’ you chuckled softly.
Eli looked down at you, all flustered and swollen lips.
‘You look beautiful’
You felt even hotter, and then saw his own hardness through his jeans.
‘Fuck it, I know a place. I’ll go get the car’.
‘Sounds good to me’ he laughed, kissing you again.
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I Wanna Be Your Dog - G.W
George Weasley X Fem Reader one shot/imagine inspired by the song ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog’ by The Stooges.
About: You bring your best friend George along with you to a muggle rock n roll gig, both of you get heavily intoxicated, George gets overprotective after another guy tries to chat you up. The two of you go back to your place afterwards, getting into a steamy situation.
Warnings: 18+!! Alcohol and intoxication, heavy smut, unprotected rough sex, choking and ‘foul’ language.
“That was bloody mental” George slurred, already drunk from all the pre-drinks you both necked down before the gig.
You wanted to let loose for one evening after studying so hard and what better way to reward yourself for your N.E.W.T.S results than going to a local gig with your best friend and sharing some drinks?
You giggled taking a sip of your cider “just you wait, that was just the opening band!” you leaned into George feeling buzzed, you missed the atmosphere of a show: the bright lights in a blacked out room, being one in the crowd, the smell coming from the fog machines, the loud blaring music, making a connection with the musicians and getting your ‘rock on’ with everyone else in the crowd.
“There's more?” George asked excitedly beaming down at you, you forgot that he wasn’t used to muggle music, bands, gigs, you wouldn’t be surprised if his father studied just the idea of such an experience.
You nodded and stared into his gorgeous deep brown eyes, looking down at George’s empty cup you offered to buy him another (you would need it to get you through the rest of the night at this rate, you didn’t want your buzz to die down) you pushed through the overflowing crowd trying not to bash or elbow anyone too hard, squeezing through you kept muttering out “I’m sorry!” “Just passing through!”
By the time you reached the bar the main act were already powering through their set list, you felt bad for leaving George but you knew he would be enjoying himself either way.
The floor was sticky from the spilled alcohol and your shoes kept sticking down to the floor, you felt like you were in space boots every time you tried to lift up your feet and with the spinning of the room you gripped onto the bar to steady yourself.
“Can I grab two double vodka’s and coke, please” you yelled over the music to the bar man, choosing the first drink that popped into mind, you could feel someone closing in on you, their hot breath and body heat against your back.
“Mind if I pay?” a unfamiliar gruff voice asked.
You slowly stood up straight and took a deep sigh, turning around you were met with the stranger who butted in. He pulled some pound notes out of his pocket and pushed them over towards the bar man.
The man had dark black hair that started to grey at the roots and odd strands here and there, you could tell he must be older than you, greying or not his wrinkles spoke for him.
He towered over you and smiled “both for you?”
You shook your head and answered him quickly, hoping the bar man would hurry up or the man would get distracted “No, me and my boyfriend” you lied, although you and George were best friends you had slept together plenty of times and it often felt as if you were dating - but you had never brought it up, you both liked everything how it was.
The man chuckled and moved closer to you, the bar man placed the drinks next your arm on the side “is that so?” he asked, thinking you were lying to get away from him. He nodded and pursed his lips “playing hard to get, I like it” he pushed a stray hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek with his thumb “has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?” he blurted out, unashamed.
You couldn’t believe your ears, you couldn’t believe the cheek of this man, you cowered at his touch.
“Has anyone ever told you to piss off?” you heard George shout over the music, standing next you, staring down the man.
You thanked whichever lords above that George decided to come and search for you. “Who the fuck are you?” the man laughed at your best friend, moving away from you.
George pulled you into him, his hand sneaking around your waist, you didn’t want any trouble but you knew George wouldn’t shy away from confrontation if it was about something serious.
“I’m her boyfriend, now bugger off before you get my foot up your arse” George threatened him, his grip on your waist tightening.
The man sported a furious look upon his sweaty wrinkled face “you wanna fucking go mate?” he yelled at George pointing a finger at him “all this over some slag?” he insulted you.
You and George, now both just as furious went red in the face. You spotted your drinks on the side and without thinking, breaking from George’s grip you picked up your drinks and threw them in his face, causing George to let out a shocked but surprising laugh.
The two of you ran as fast as your legs could carry you past the overflowing crowd, hearing complaints and insults follow you. Breaking free into the dark night, the cold air engulfed you, waking you up slightly from your drunken daze.
Holding out your hand spotting a black cab the two of you hopped in and went back to your parents place.
George apologised continuously on the way home, feeling like he was the one who ruined your evening, but if anything he made it so much better than what it could’ve turned out to be.
“I just can’t believe that arsehole called you such a thing and put a hand on you!” He whispered sternly, entering the kitchen, he walked over to the stairs and stopped before walking up them. “Are you okay?”
“It’s okay Georgie, really.” You whispered back, you pushed past him, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs quietly, trying not to wake anyone up “I’m fine”
You both entered your large bedroom, the pine green walls covered in pictures of you and George and posters of the band you saw tonight, little round orange fairy lights dangling from your curtain rail. Your bed in the middle of the room against the wall, waiting for you and George.
So messed up, I want you here
In my room, I want you here
Now we're gonna be face-to-face
And I'll lay right down in my favourite place
“I can’t stand it when men think they can touch you like that, it makes my skin crawl.” George muttered, starting to calm down upon entering your room, he shut the door slowly and quietly behind him.
“Only you can touch me like that” you whispered in his ear, nibbling at his lobe gently.
George let out a shaky moan, your sudden advance caused his breath to get stuck in his throat for a moment.
“You’d be furious if I ended up going home with him and I was planning to if you didn’t come and get me” you teased him “he told me I was sexy.”
George glared and grabbed you by the throat, you always loved making him jealous, especially in the bedroom.
He walked you over to the bed, George pushed you down on it, his hand gripped around your throat causing you to feel slightly light headed. His possessiveness and jealousy that caused these outbursts in his behaviour turned you on more than anyone ever could.
He removed his hand from your throat, causing you to breathe out in desperation for air, whilst allowing the incredible rush to flow through your head, the tingling and spinning sensations exciting you even more.
“Is that what you want? another man fucking you?” George questioned, yanking at the silver zip on your black faux leather mini skirt and pulling them down your legs, his hand moved up in between your inner thighs “no one can make you cum like I can” he growled, slapping your clit through your underwear before yanking those off too “you dirty girl.”
And now I want to be your dog
Now I want to be your dog
Now I want to be your dog
Well, come on
You moaned staring down at the gorgeous lad now in between your legs, teasing you with his tongue, his hot breath warming you up and his silky saliva coating your clitoral hood and running down in between your folds.
George stroked you gently with his long fingers, spreading his saliva equally around your heat, causing you to moan out in pleasure “not too loud you plonker, your parents are two doors down” he told you off before suddenly plunging two fingers inside of you, switching between fingering you and repeating the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers to try and make you squirt whilst taking turns eating your cunt and sucking your clit.
George was doing this on purpose, pleasuring you beyond belief when you were forced to keep quiet. You pulled his long hair and your back arched, he could feel your walls tightening around his fingers and he knew you were getting close so he withdrew his coated fingers and pulled himself away, his lips red and wet from his hard work.
You pouted and let out a whine, ”George that isn’t fair” you tried to crawl over to George and help him take off his belt but he refused and slapped you away.
“you’ll touch me when you’re told to.”
George took off his shirt, his belt and removed his trousers, then taking off his boxers his erection slapped against his lower stomach. Your mouth filling up with saliva, if you were to open your gob your drool would turn to laces. You removed your perfume drenched band shirt and dropped it on the carpet, George’s hungry, lustful gaze turned to you, he crawled on top of you, kissing up your body.
“Turn over” he growled “get on all fours.”
Doing as you were told you could hear George spitting into his hand as he rubbed his saliva against your entrance, using his hard cock to stroke up against it before entering you. You gasped out in shock, squeezing your eyes shut to adjust to his size, George grabbed you by the hair, parting them into pony tails to use as his handlebars.
“Only I can make you feel this good” he growled lowly in your ear “tell me!” he demanded.
With George grabbing your hair and pulling you back at such an angle it was hard for you to utter a word, you were only just managing to breathe. Thinking you were ignoring him, George spanked your arse with rage, causing you to squeal out in pain loudly, feeling the sting and heat he smiled at his handprint quickly appearing on your now sore arse cheek.
“Keep it down!” he hissed at you, pounding you even harder.
Your lips were turning blood red from the biting to hold in your moans. George suddenly stopped and flipped you over, leaning over you and kissing you, tasting yourself on his lips turned him on all the more. George grabbed your smooth legs and placed them over his shoulders, pushing himself even deeper inside you as he pulled you closer to him causing the two of you to moan out.
George grabbed your throat again and held a firm grip over your artery restricting your blood flow, “dirty fucking slut” he grunted, fucking you fast, deep and hard.
You looked into his lustful eyes, desperate for air, your eyes tearing up and your face going red, knowing you’d get him closer you tried to mutter “please...George..” but it proved to be too difficult against his grip.
Now I'm ready to close my eyes
And now I'm ready to close my mind
And now I'm ready to feel your hand
And lose my heart on the burning sands
Beads of sweat dripped down his soft head, his hair sticking to him, panting rapidly he lulled his head back giving it his all before letting go of your throat, smashing his soft lips against yours he spilled himself inside of you, filling you with his warm liquid.
The two of you lay next to one another on your comfy, now drenched bed, staring up at the ceiling catching back your breaths. George sat up slowly, still recovering from what felt like the race of his life - a marathon for you - he eyed you up and gently pulled you into a cuddle. “Are you okay?” he asked “you aren’t hurt are you?” he looked at your neck, worried he left any marks or caused damage.
And now I want to be your dog
And now I wanna be your dog
Now I want to be your dog
Well, come on
You shook your head and smiled at him coming down from your high “I’m all good but my arse hurts” you laughed softly, laying in his arms “one hell of a slap you gave it”
George went red and apologised but you shushed him and giggled, letting out a yawn you pulled the covers over the two of you and you put your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Tonight was incredible” you said sleepily “thank you for everything, George.”
He smiled and his heart warmed at the sight of you cuddling into him, he held your hand and kissed your head softly “I love you” he hummed, closing his eyes.
“I love you too” you replied, copying him, drifting off to sleep.
335 notes · View notes
pairing: junhui x reader
word count: 2.7k
summary: taking care of your sick boyfriend is easy until you get in your own head
warnings: mucho overthinking, jun being the best boi
That’s the only emotion that was buzzing through Junhui’s mind at this moment.
He was sick. His fever was high, throat scratchy, body aching. He couldn’t sing or dance or even goof around, let alone get out of his bed. However, that didn’t stop him from trying.
He knew better, obviously he didn’t want to get anyone else infected, but at the same time, he had work to do. Choreography to learn, lines to record and a whole comeback just months away. He can’t let down his carats, his members. He can’t let you down.
That’s what got him out of bed this morning and into the dance room. The members noticed immediately, the way he could barely stand and the pale white of his skin while his hair stuck to his forehead from the high body temperature.
They refused to let him practice, ending up with Mingyu left in charge until the managers arrived to handle the situation. But that didn’t help one bit. It actually made things worse, frustrating the young man beyond belief. The members acted as if they wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing as him, the managers acting as if they owned him.
He was hot, in pain, grumpy, tired and just wanted to at least watch the practice so that he wouldn’t be as behind. The group returned to learning the new dance while the managers sat back for a moment to allow everyone to calm down.
And then the door opened. And you walked in. And while he was ecstatic about seeing your beauty for the first time today, part of him felt extremely irritated.
“Really?” he scoffed as he turned to the others in the room. “You tattled to my girlfriend?”
“Hyung, we really just think you should get some rest.” Chan spoke quietly from the front of the room.
Minghao, who was sat near Jun, placed a hand on his shoulder, causing his older friend to look in his direction. “We get where you’re coming from, really. We’ve all been there. But just go home, rest, and you'll be back and better in no time.”
The rest nodded in agreement, Jun’s attention shifting when he felt the soft skin of the back of your hand grazing his forehead.
“Baby, you’re burning up. You don’t look that great, how long have you been feeling sick?” you cooed, a slight pout in your tone.
His attitude melted away as he watched your eyebrows furrow in worry as you placed a hand on his cheek, him leaning into it. The action made his heart warm and the total comfort of having you around brought tears to his eyes.
He looked down and a stray tear fell before he could wipe it away. A sniffle was all you needed before embracing him, a tiny sob coming out from his frustrations. The members watched silently from behind, recognizing that you were definitely the only person that could ever get through his stubbornness except possibly his parents.
“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.” you say quietly rubbing his back. He nods into your neck before pulling away and gathering his belongings around him. The two of you made your way to the door, him opening it for you before pausing and turning to the others.
“Thank you for looking out for me and my health. I apologize for my actions and attitude earlier, I really appreciate and love you all.” he bowed missing how the other members smiled and nodded.
“We love you too!” Jeonghan yelled from the back of the room, causing the others to join in.
“Get better soon!”
“Have fun taking medicine!”
“Go home already, I don’t want to get sick!”
“Take good care of him Y/N, he’s a sneaky one!”
You chuckled before replying, “He won’t leave my sight.” as you gave him a pointed look to which he returned a sheepish smile.
You two walked out of the building and into the car before the driver started his way back to the dorms, you in the backseat holding Jun’s hand as he laid his head on your shoulder.
“Why wouldn’t you say you didn’t feel good, you dummy. Do you like worrying me?” you mumbled into his hair as you gave him a light peck.
He chuckled without opening his eyes. “You know that’s not why. Even though you are pretty adorable when you’re all worked up-” a playful punch to his leg made him cut himself off with a laugh. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want to be behind, especially with the album and I don’t want you to waste your time trying to take care of me.”
You were silent for the rest of the ride as he slowly drifted off to sleep, the thoughts replaying in your head. He always worked so hard, especially being part of the performance line. He pushed his vocals with higher notes, his body with tougher choreography, and basically his sanity due to the crazy schedules they had set up. You knew what you were going into when you agreed to a first date almost two years ago.
You arrived at the dorms, waking Jun just enough so he could walk up to his room. You thanked the driver and followed your sleepy boyfriend, opening the doors and leading him to the bed before placing a couple blankets on and starting some soft music. When he instantly fell back into slumber, you made your way to the kitchen and began boiling some water for soup.
How could he not want you to take care of him? Did he think it was annoying, did he not like being coddled? But he was constantly searching for your affection whether vocal or physical, so you didn’t quite understand. Maybe he didn’t want to feel like he was unable to do anything, helpless? How dare he call it a waste of time when in reality, you would want nothing more than to spend every moment by him, nursing him back to health or not.
You finished the soup and began preparing a tray to take to him. You placed a water and some tablets on it along with the bowl and utensils and carefully made your way through the house. You quietly opened the door wider with your foot and placed the tray on the bedside table before sitting next to the bed.
He was facing you, blankets pulled up to his chin and mouth slightly parted. The hair on his forehead was still slightly damp from his fever, but you can tell it already wasn’t as bad as when you first saw him. He looked peaceful, skin flawless without any worrying lines or furrowed eyebrows or frowns clouding his features.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there, silently admiring him before a loud ping broke your focus. You pulled your phone from your pocket, quickly replying to the text from a friend before looking up to see Jun’s eyes just barely open and a small smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, quickly turning your phone on silent.
He shook his head and shifted his legs while letting out a big yawn. “I smelled the soup.” he croaked out with a giggle, sitting up slightly so his back was against the pillows.
You suddenly remember why you came in the room in the first place and scramble to first hand him the water and tablets, watching as he gulps it down before handing it back. You switch and hand him the bowl of soup, a grin growing on his face as he saw it was his favorite homemade chicken noodle soup you had introduced to him when he first got sick after you became a couple.
“I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve you.” he whispered as he blew on a spoonful before digging in. You simply nodded as you looked down at your fingers, your previous thoughts making a dangerous return to the front of your brain.
As Jun neared halfway through the bowl, he realized you hadn’t said anything. You weren’t usually one to talk much anyways, but it was starting to nag at him since you were the same in the car. Were you mad at him for not saying anything before? Were you starting to not feel well yourself? He would hate it if he got anyone else sick, especially you.
You jumped when Jun’s warm hand was suddenly on your forehead, then your cheeks, mimicking what you had done hours before. Your eyes grew wider as he leaned forward looking you over before meeting your eyes.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” he questioned, eyes growing intense the longer you didn’t answer.
“I’m fine.” you squeaked out, him giving you a look that told you he didn’t buy that at all. “Really I’m okay. Just a little tired is all.” you lied.
You could tell he still didn’t accept your excuse, but offered a solution for it anyways. “Do you want to lay down? We can put on a movie, anything you want.” he said and before you knew it he was throwing the blankets off and moving to get up.
“No! Lay down, don’t get up.” you yelped as you placed both hands on his chest and pushed him back down as he puffed.
“My legs aren't broken Y/N, I can still get up and walk around.” he said with a playful tone.
You quickly retracted your hands as if he burned you, causing his smile to drop. He watched as you fought with yourself, between wanting to tuck him back in and instead returning your hands to play with each other in front of your stomach, the nervous habit he picked up after a while. It was small, but you only tend to do it when something was nagging at the back of your mind.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be so overbearing, but I just…” you trailed off. “I just want you to get better quickly, that’s all.” you whispered, so quiet he almost didn’t hear the way your voice cracked at the end.
“Overbearing?” he asked. “What’s that mean? I know you just want the best for me.” he said quietly as he reached for your hand and gently pulled it towards him, intertwining your fingers.
You nodded in agreement and looked down, feeling a lump in your throat, but did your best to push it away. For heaven's sake, he was sick and here you were, on the verge of crying about nothing.
“Now do you want to talk to me and tell me what’s going on in the pretty head of yours?” Jun asked patiently. He always got it out of you in the end and he knew exactly how to. A chuckle left him as you shook your head and continued staring at the ground.
“Are you really tired?” he asked.
You shook your head.
“Are you starting to feel sick as well?”
You shook your head.
He hummed to himself in thought. “Maybe you're hungry?”
You shook your head.
“Is it something I did?”
It took a second longer, but you shook your head. He knew he was getting warmer.
“Was it something I said?”
Your head stayed still, not wanting to admit what had you in such a dark cloud of thought. You used your free hand to cover your face, starting to feel the hot tears breaking through.
“Was I mean earlier?” he panicked, not wanting to see you cry a second longer. “In the practice room?”
You shook your head once more.
“In the car?”
The dam suddenly broke and you couldn't control your emotions any longer. He was quick to pull you into his chest and run his fingers through your hair as he kept you close.
“I’m sorry.” you choke out, voice muffled.
“Why are you apologizing?” he let out a dry laugh of disbelief. “If I’m correct, I was the one who said something in the car that upset you this much, I’m the one that’s sorry honey.”
“No, don’t apologize!” you cried out in frustration. You pulled away, but he refused to let you go, opting for holding your arms as you furiously wiped your tears. “I’m the one that needs to be sorry. I mean, you’re sick! You’re sick and I’m making this all about me for no reason, it was stupid and I shouldn’t get in my own head and I know that. I just want to help, I love you and want to see you happy and healthy and I know I can be a lot and clingy and too much. I don’t mean to make you feel bad and I just want to take care of you, but you need to tell me if you don’t want me around or need me to leave you alone. I don’t want you to think I’m wasting my time because you mean everything to me and I just-”
Jun placed his hands on your cheeks, slightly squishing so you couldn’t talk anymore. He lifted your head so he would be able to see your face, but you closed your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction to the mess you were.
“Baby, please look at me.” he said softly. After a couple moments, you shyly opened your eyes to meet his, swimming with emotion and glossy from unshed tears.
“You need to know I didn’t mean it like that, what I said in the car.” he cooed, unable to keep the waver from his words. “I only said that because I feel guilty for always having you take care of and look after me, even when I’m healthy.” he moved his hands so his thumbs were wiping your tears. He moved them to your jaw to keep you looking at him as he began to massage the behind of your ears, making you relax more.
“It doesn’t matter the day or time or where we are. If I’m sick or not, your feelings still matter more than anything. If it makes you upset, it’s not stupid. It’s actually really important because I need you to tell me as well. You’re not clingy, or overbearing, or too much. You’re the most gentle, kind-hearted, and loving person I’ve ever met. Even if I didn’t like being smothered as much as I do, I would still let you because the fact that you're willing to, let alone like taking care of me already makes you the best girlfriend in the entire universe. And I would let you do anything that makes you happy.”
You sniffle as he leans forward and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his pillowy lips and the passion you can feel from the simple action. He barely pulled back before beginning to pepper your face with small pecks, eventually making you giggle which allowed the tightness to lift from his chest.
He pulled you up and onto his bed before setting you right on top of him, your legs mixing together and head resting on his chest, listening to his breathing comfortably. The feeling of his hand rubbing your back made your worries drift away, everything you were thinking before seeming so absurd all of a sudden.
“How could I not want you by my side every second of every day?” he murmured. “I would be insane, you would have to put me in a hospital, cause I obviously would have lost my mind to ever feel that way.”
You chuckled at his ridiculous claims, but couldn’t help the pink that tinted your cheeks at the feeling. Him in your arms, so close and telling you how he truly feels gives you a warmth in your chest that no hot drink or fluffy blanket could compare to.
“You mean the world to me too.” he said as he adjusted you both so you were laying flat on the bed. He pulled the blanket up and over your bodies before wrapping his arms around your waist and closing his eyes. “I love you, my little overthinker.” he teased.
You lightly poked his side in protest to the new nickname, causing him to squirm before smiling. “Shut up.” you mumbled.
I love you too.
13 notes · View notes
The Arrangement - Part Thirteen
Fandom: Ikémen Sengoku
Suitor: Nobunaga Oda
Tags: wedding, court days, fluffy, pregnancy
It wasn’t that uncommon for Nobunaga to come home and find Natsuki asleep on the sofa, with Mitsuhide watching TV or tapping away on his laptop. Masamune had decided to become their personal chef in light of the news, which meant that Natsuki wouldn’t be exerting herself. It was a constant weight on Nobunaga’s mind since she had spent several weeks looking pale and several overnight stays in the hospital to combat some severe morning sickness. But now she was gaining some colour back in her cheeks as they were coming up on her sixteenth week and keeping most foods down. Her outfits were no longer so form-fitting, and his mother had gotten all of the wedding organised to go ahead in five weeks time.
He stroked her cheek softly as she stirred from her slumber, blinking up at him several times to try and bring him into focus.
“Morning sleepyhead,” he chuckled, kissing her forehead as she turned over onto her back from her side. “How has little Oda been? You weren’t too keen on the beef last night.”
“I thought you might have noticed,” she laughed sheepishly. “I think he’s into fish more than meat.”
“I’m still arguing it’s a little girl,” he smirked, stroking her cheek as she was waking up. “Masamune will be here soon, you should sit up,” he frowned, helping her to sit upright on the oversized sofa that monopolised their living room. She grumbled, snuggling into his side and resting her head against his shoulder. It amused him to no end that she didn’t wake up very quickly, especially since her caffeine intake had been drastically reduced. Masamune was exchanging free board for cooking for everyone in their kitchen on a daily basis, with a specific focus on meals at any hour around the clock for Natsuki.
“She didn’t manage to eat lunch,” Mitsuhide appeared from nowhere, a solemn gaze over the woman. “She went to sleep around mid-morning and I couldn’t wake her to eat all afternoon.”
“I’m sure Ieyasu and Masamune will have some ideas then, maybe smoothies or breaking down her meals more into snacks,” Nobunaga sighed, kissing the woman on her head.
“Mm,” Natsuki grumbled, until the prickly blonde appeared, making her jump and try to hide in Nobunaga’s chest.
“One of the men we want to talk to,” Mitsuhide smirked, watching Natsuki carefully for her reaction.
“After overhearing what you’ve just been saying, higher-calorie smoothies might be easier to get down her and give her some more energy to stop her falling asleep all the time. I’ll make some up with Masamune later,” he shrugged, eyeing the woman up and down.
“Thank you,” she smiled sleepily and made Ieyasu blushed before he disappeared off to the kitchen under the guise of assisting Masamune with the meal preparation. She nuzzled into Nobunaga’s neck, slipping her arms around his waist before he surprised her by picking her up bridal style.
“Come on, Masamune can bring us dinner in bed,” he smirked, weaving through the collection of men in their dining room before heading up the stairs. Everyone had taken to coming to their house for dinner after finishing work, a routine that Natsuki easily found herself looking forward to as Nobunaga swiftly made his way to their bedroom. “I’m sure we could video chat with my mother about the wedding, she would never turn down the opportunity.
Tsuchida would never refuse the chance to speak to the couple about their wedding. She was showering Natsuki in compliments about pregnancy making her glow while going through the latest itinerary of the day. Apparently, the caterers had tried to make some changes which would have interfered with Natsuki’s dietary allowances while pregnant, a clause which had been included in the contract at Tsuchida’s insistence. Then Natsuki was checking her diary to book in for the final dress fitting the week before the wedding with the hopes that the bump would not grow too much before the day.
“Mother, it’s getting late,” Nobunaga laughed, catching Natsuki trying to hide yet another yawn.
“Yes, rest is essential for those of us who are pregnant,” Tsuchida instantly agreed. “Did you intend to go and listen to the verdict? They’re giving closing statements tomorrow.”
“I … Didn’t realise that they were so close to finishing,” Natsuki said, looking at Nobunaga for his reply.
“We’ll see,” he nodded, “Good night,” they waved before ending the call.
Natsuki grumbled and pouted, collapsing back into the pile of pillows that lined the head of their bed. “I didn’t know.”
“I had the message from Shingen this morning. We can see how you feel in the morning,” Nobunaga sighed, leaning over and kissing her on the head before turning to put the laptop away. “But first, you need to go to sleep.”
Her father was stony-faced as the closing statements were given. Shingen was something of a showman, making sure to play heavily on how willfully he used his own daughter to his own means and end. Not that her father’s lawyer didn’t try to then throw Natsuki under the bus as the one who had actually committed all of the crimes. The jury was sent to deliberate, and it was simply a waiting game now.
Natsuki was hiding a bad night’s sleep behind some big dark shades, and her bloated stomach with a dress that flowed from the shoulders in a design to hide her bump. Nobunaga and Mitsuhide also ‘helped’ by making sure to obstruct everyone’s angles so that no one could get a clear shot of her. Shingen was also being overly flirtatious, laying down the charm on her to try and switch the focus to his known playboy attitude. He certainly liked to keep the gossip columns guessing as to who he would be in bed with next. Not that Natsuki could be swayed as the court was called back in again after only an hour of deliberation.
Natsuki was wringing her wrists as everyone filtered back in. Nobunaga was staring down her father, but he slipped an arm around her shoulders to bring her into his side protectively. The room was watching on with bated breath, poised to react the second the foreman of the jury had delivered the verdict.
“On the grounds of exploitation and of selling trafficked children?”
“And on the grounds of intention to exploit his family and friends?”
The courtroom exploded. Justice was to be served on this day it seemed before the gallery was called to order once again. Natsuki knew that her mother would already be lining up an interview to portray the Oda family as the true villains in this situation, along with her now forsaken daughter, their only child. It would be nothing new, and certainly nothing that couldn’t be handled by the usual crowd. For now, she could relax, and smile before she squeaked, a strange motion attracting her attention in her stomach. And when it happened a second time with the same sound coming out of Natsuki then both Shingen and Nobunaga turned to frown at her.
“I think the baby moved,” she wasted no time, placing Nobunaga’s hand on her bloated stomach, watching him with excitement as the baby gave them a kick for demonstration. Ecstasy flooding through her to see how excited Nobunaga was in the moment.
Until a flash interrupted them and brought her crashing back down to reality along with a looming silence over the room.
“So that’s what you’ve been hiding,” her mother sneered loudly, enjoying having the focus of the room. “You’re busy screwing him instead of worrying and supporting your father like a good daughter should be doing!”
“Like how a good father abandons his six-year-old daughter because he’s sent to jail for identity fraud?” Natsuki smiled, linking her fingers over Nobunaga’s. “And even better, stealing the identities of five and six-year-olds who are still struggling with the after-effects over twenty years later? So why should I stand by the man who tried to use me as a human shield to protect his own life at the expense of mine?” She laughed coldly. “Some father!”
Natsuki couldn’t remember the last time her mother looked embarrassed or flustered before the older woman huffed and began to push her way through the crowd in an attempt to evade the questions from the press. Shingen and Kenshin then instinctively moved in front of Natsuki, protecting her from the barrage of questions the media would have after that little outburst, as the media resorted to shouting questions over the shoulders of her bodyguards, mostly about gender revelations and how far along she was.
Nobunaga kept her close, ignoring everyone as they walked out of the courthouse with their heads held high. Hideyoshi had brought the car around to the front for them so that the couple wouldn’t need to wait, a relieved smile on his face as Natsuki slid into the car easily.
“You are turning into a woman who is more than worthy of being called Mrs Oda,” Nobunaga broke their silence as they pulled off, chuckling softly as he leant over and kissed her on the cheek. “And I love you both very much,” he added on softly.
“I love you too,” she grinned, “And I’m glad I have some positive attributes to bring along apart from having the worst in-laws possible.”
“Of course, now let’s get you relaxing at home.”
The next few weeks were chaotic, to say the least. Natsuki was juggling hospital appointments, last-minute wedding plans and fittings, and then trying to maintain her stress levels for the sake of the baby. It was making her wonder what exactly Tsuchida had in store for them on the big day. She was struggling to settle, her nerves making her feel like a knotted ball of string that wasn’t going to stop bundling together.
She was almost relieved when Tsuchida rang her phone. It was the signal to Nobunaga that he was to head to the best man’s house and to get ready with the groomsmen.
His kiss was soft, slow and sensual. One hand on her stomach as the baby kicked him firmly in response and then chuckling softly.
“If you aren’t speechless when I get to the altar, I will kick you,” she promised.
“We will see, fireball.”
It was a strange sensation to send him away, knowing that the next time they would see each other would be when they were getting married. Not that she truly had a chance to dwell on the matter as Tsuchida, the hairstylist and makeup artist were pulling onto the drive seconds after Nobunaga had left to go to Hideyoshi’s.
A quick shower and then she was at the mercy of the professionals. It was a soothing pace since Tsuchida was keen to keep her first grandchild calm as Natsuki shared some of the movement of the baby with the older woman.
She was draped in a gorgeous necklace that bore the Oda clan symbol, along with a formal passing down between the generations. Her hair was swept up into a high ponytail before it was curled for decoration and to hide the fixed in veil with what felt like a whole can of hairspray and most of the hair grips in Japan. Her bangs were carefully curled to frame her face, and her makeup was done in neutral tones over her eyes and then a dark red on her lips to finish.
Getting into her dress was an experience, she was trying to not overbalance, flash Tsuchida and not sweat in cohesion. Her future mother-in-law laughed and ended up undoing all of the fastenings to get Natsuki into the dress. They had chosen a high waisted a-line with straps, without realising that she would be needing the space for her bump when they had picked it out.
“Breathe,” Tsuchida smiled, as they stood in the bedroom. She had taken a few minutes to get changed into a red knee-length dress, with a matching jacket and wearing the crest on her left lapel. “You are an Oda bride. We have many centuries of leadership in us, and you are more than worthy to join us. Nobunaga will be waiting for you are the end of the aisle, and you three will only be the start of things.”
“Mm, I get the feeling that this level of chaos will soon become a normality,” Natsuki smiled, tilting her head before the pair began to make their way out to the waiting car.
Nobunaga was speechless and slack-jawed as she walked down the aisle. Mitsuhide did him the favour of shutting his mouth before the bride reached him at the altar.
The ceremony went off without a hitch. Mostly thanks to Mitsuhide and his team who had screened all of the guests and then stopped her mother’s attempt to get in during the middle of the vows. Natsuki didn’t think it was possible to be any happier than she was as the photographer was starting to call for the different groups for the list of photographs. Her engagement ring sat snuggly before her wedding band, as their baby was wriggling around in her belly. Her cheeks ached from all the smiling she was doing, feeling secure as she leant into Nobunaga’s side and let the world melt away around them.
What she wasn’t expecting was for him to sweep her up into his arms, taking the weight off her feet and the train of her dress as well. She squealed, her bouquet going flying as she clung to his shoulders to try and stay upright.
“Nobunaga!” She laughed, smacking him as he walked away from everyone and then promptly lowered her onto one of the bar stools, smirking broadly at her while purposely keeping his back to the photographer. She could see the annoyed expression on the professional’s face, but Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi were stopping anyone from getting close to them.
“Two non-alcoholic wines please,” he ordered at the bar, before sitting on one next to her. “You need a break, I could see it in your face,” he booped her on the nose lightly, careful to not ruin her makeup before lifting her left hand to his lips, and kissing it softly.
She had to admit that the drink was refreshing, and they had a chance to be themselves in private away from everyone else.
“Mitsuhide saved you looking like an idiot in the photos at the altar,” she giggled, chinking their glasses between sips.
“Indeed,” he smirked, stealing a brief kiss while she was off-guard, “But unfortunately, we should go back to our guests and finish off the photographs. Though we will be taking a stool for you to sit on.”
The photographer was being dramatic on their return until Mitsuhide gave him a specific look and it seemed to be enough cause to cast it far from his mind. They resumed taking the group shots, this time with Natsuki seated to relieve her of the ache in her feet and back. Tsuchida had saved her bridal bouquet from being destroyed and had tidied it up before giving it back.
Music flowed around them, the room looking on as Natsuki had her arms around Nobunaga, she couldn’t quite keep her lips to herself. His lips were soft but commanding, demanding all of her attention, which made her giggle.
“What’s so funny?” He scowled, making sure to keep her close to him.
“You will need to learn to share me,” she grinned, as the baby kicked against him. “He won’t learn otherwise.”
“It’s a boy?” His eyes lit up in childlike wonder at her enunciated ‘he’. They were standing stationary in the middle of the floor, as Natsuki nodded eagerly. “It’s a boy!” He called out, picking up his wife and spinning her around in delight.
“What on Earth are you doing?” Hideyoshi and Ieyasu rushed over, trying to stop their friend from hurting the baby or his pregnant partner.
“Celebrating that I’m having a boy,” Nobunaga smirked, his arms firmly around Natsuki and kissing her on the head.
“Don’t do that! You’ll hurt the baby!” Tsuchida scolded, coming over to check on the younger woman.
“She couldn’t wait to tell me that your first grandchild is a boy,” he pouted slightly, making Natsuki giggle as she snuggled into his side. The news spreading like wildfire around them as everyone came to give their congratulations, the formalities of the first dance long forgotten.
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Pairing: Jungkook x female reader, Older brother! Jimin x Reader, Hoseok x reader
*12k altogether- ongoing
Genre: Enemies to lovers, childhood friends, major misunderstandings
Warnings: Thigh riding, Fingering, Oral (male receiving)
Summary: The first time you meet Jungkook, he pushes you off the slide. Second time he calls you ugly. After that things continue spiraling downwards: he cuts your dolls’ heads off, tells everyone you’re a freak at school, spreads malicious rumors; Jungkook’s sole purpose in life is tormenting you. So why five years later is he insisting you two belong together?
Based on a prompt request by @bangtaened-army turned fic. Sorry bangtaened-army for the wait, and the fact that I still haven’t touched the original requested prompt.
Summer progresses onwards. Its lazy days blurring together into a mixture of sunshine kisses, grass covered backs, mind-straining student papers, and the undenying beating of your heart. Jungkook chases you everywhere like some star-struck lover, never really far from your sight. While Hoseok keeps his promise of texts and coffee meetups. Overall it’s the type of summer you’d picture in some book written by Jane Austen., if she wrote about crushes and fuck buddies that is. “Aren’t we a little too old for an end of summer party?” you question, glaring at your closet.
Apparently end of summer parties are common in your hometown despite everyone in your senior class being in their mid-twenties. Naturally this is the first time you have heard of it seeing how Jimin was your lone friend in high school; the only reason you got an invite this time around was because Jungkook invited you along. “I mean seriously we are all grown ups with adult jobs now. Isn’t the whole booze and blaring music thing a little childish?” You continue ranting to Jungkook.
Ever since the invite, you have done nothing but find reasons not to go. So far your excuses of ‘there’s two weeks left of American summer’ and ‘I’d rather stab myself than see any of those assholes from high school’ didn’t fly, which is why you are now going with option C. A whiny pathetic option but you are determined not to experience anything resembling a high reunion. Dealing with the assholes in your graduating class once was enough, you can avoid a repeat.
“Besides it’s not like anyone wants me there. If they did I would’ve known about the party beforehand.” you added, slipping into the black bodycon hanging lonely in your closet. It’s not the type of dress you usually wear, conforming too well to your body for comfort. Nonetheless it is the type of dress most pretty girls wear both in and out of South Korea. Frowning you give yourself a once over in the mirror, cringing at the small pouch formed where your stomach is. “Are you even listening to me, Jeon?”
Jungkook hums an non-committed affirmation, his eyes still staring at your form hungrily despite the awful dress choice. He looks like a god laying the way he does in bed. The white comforter on your bed covers only up to a little below his waist, leaving the delectable sight of smooth skin and muscles on display. Glistening sweat only intensifies the beauteous sight adding a shine not only to his skin, but the messy black hair sticking to Jungkook’s forehead. If it were anyone else, they would look disgusting, instead Jungkook appears absolutely mouth watering which is why you are quick to redress.
“I am not going.” you insist, tearing the dress off.
Immediately Jungkook snaps out of his daze quickly sitting up to take your hand in his. Worry flashes across his face baffling you. While Jungkook and you were no longer enemies, your sudden friendship with him had you spiraling downwards in confusion. Suddenly Jungkook went from the person you avoided at all costs to the person you saw the most. Add in the fact that lately time spent with Jungkook occurred outside of sex and you have recipe for chaos. “Hey, I want you to come. Isn’t that enough?” Jungkook asks.
You turn away, trying to ignore the hollow pain in your gut. It’s no surprise Jungkook doesn’t understand why you didn’t want to go. During high school, Jungkook’s popularity soared-especially after your brother’s year graduate; he was the ‘IT’ guy, the one everyone wanted to befriend. Whereas you wounded up in the opposite position, no friends and constantly falling onto bullies’ radar. No high school was a nightmare to you.
“I just don’t want to go." You reply, meekly.
You fully expect Jungkook to argue, but instead he wraps his arms around you, letting out a thoughtful sound. "Alright we'll stay home then, I can go for another round or two. Unless you'd rather go see a movie or something?"
The statement is tooth rotting sweet, causing your heart to swell momentarily. However your brain's sudden reminder of the reality of everything quickly deflates whatever lovesick emotions brew inside, the two of you aren't dating. Nor would you guys ever date. No matter how much fun had, Jungkook would only see you as a temporary good time. Moreover despite your apology, you honestly can't forget that he was why everyone hated you in the first place. "No. Go enjoy yourself, you like these things- besides Jimin would be suspicious if you blew him off."
Jungkook shrugs . "I'll just tell him I got a hot date with his sister."
"Yeah, because he'll love that. " you reply sarcastically, untangling yourself from him. Just hearing the word, 'date ' stirs up a whirlwind of emotions you don't want to face.
Unfortunately Jungkook has no plans to let you loose, pulling you closer to him. His head buries itself into your neck tickling its skin as he kisses the junction between it and your shoulder. Heat pools down to your core, you press your legs together struggling not to let him win. Within these past few weeks Jungkook's learned every kink of yours, including the more secretive ones. He knew better than anyone how to turn you on. "Kook…" you gasp, toes twitching.
"So beautiful. " Jungkook whispers. He continues his assault of kisses down your neck. "I don't know why you're so self conscious about this party. You're amazing, (Y/N). "
Jungkook kisses your neck.
Then your ear.
Now your nose.
And finally he kisses your mouth.
"And fucking gorgeous in that dress.”
You roll your eyes, giving him a harsh shove. “Now I know you’re lying. I look like a tube of squeezed up toothpaste in that thing.”
“Tube of squeezed toothpaste huh?” he cocks an eyebrow. Before you know it Jungkook grabs your hand dragging it down to his cock. Heat creeps up your skin at how hard he feels. Slowly Jungkook runs your hand up and down his cock, making sure you feel each ridge of it. “I guess I have a thing for toothpaste tubes then.”
You don’t know why you gasp at his words. Especially given how ridiculous they are, but the feel of his stiff cock under your touch, and the darkening lust in his eyes soon has you withering underneath him.
“Kook.” Is all you can say.
“I’ll make you a deal, Princess.” Jungkook says, stilling your hand. “Half an hour. We stay at the party for half an hour, then I’ll take you wherever you want. Even if it’s to that expensive sushi restaurant you like.”
You ponder his offer for a second. Sushi sounds nice...especially on Jungkook’s dime. Shit, why are you such a glutton? “The minute you or Jimin ditch me, I’m leaving.”
Jungkook lights up like a Christmas tree. “Deal. It’ll be fun, (Y/N). I promise.”
“I highly doubt it.” you mutter, before being attacked by a flurry of kisses from Jungkook. Again your heart skips a beat leaving you to ponder what it is about Jungkook that has it reacting in such a way.
Nervous doesn’t even begin to explain the rush of emotions bubbling within when you walk into your old classmate Lisa’s house. Simply seeing how your old schoolmates gather around the small two bedroom home is enough to make you grab Jungkook’s hand. All the people who tormented you under one roof, already you foreshadow the night ending in disaster. “Hey, it’s okay. No one is going to bother you, I promise.” Jungkook assures softly.
His words are sweet, but can’t stop the painful memories boiling up. In the corner Jennie Kim gossip to her old highschool friends Jisoo and Rose, the three of them along with Lisa Manoban, the owner of said house, were your main bullies, always gossiping, shoving, teasing, cutting your hair-on the couch sits Jackson Wang, the school’s class clown, who always pranked you in class, then there’s Baekhyun and Irene chatting in the kitchen, they used- “You’re fine, (Y/N).” Jimin interrupts your train of thought, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Jungkook’s right no one is going to try anything while he and I are here. Besides I think you’ll be surprised how many people pulled their heads out of their asses since high school.”
Swallowing the large lump formed in your throat, you nod. “Okay.”
The boys smile and Jungkook squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Okay. Now let’s grab some drinks and get as wasted as one can in thirty minutes.”
“Not too wasted though. I don’t need to see your tongue down my sister’s throat.” Jimin eyes Jungkook. The boy merely chuckles, while you look at your older brother appalled. Jungkook’s and your little fwb arrangement is a secret, neither of you mentioning anything beyond burying the hatchet to Jimin. Unless Jungkook…
“Ouch! What the fuck, (Y/N)?” Jungkook hisses, rubbing where you hit his arm.
You stare him down unapologetic. “You know what. How could you tell Jimin about us?”
His mouth drops, an offended expression appearing on his face. Those large brown eyes widen transforming into his signature bambi eyes. “I didn’t tell Jimin shit.”
“Yeah right. If you didn’t, then how does he know about us sleeping together?”
“I didn’t.” Jimin says, voice full of disgust. The way his face pinches up at the information nearly has you bursting into laughter, if not for the horrifying realization you spilled the beans. “I mean I had a feeling. Jungkook spends more time with you than me, and you are so touchy around him, it only makes sense. However I didn’t know for sure…”
“Oppa. It’s not like that Jungkook and I are just-” Jimin interrupts you. “Don’t. Please don’t explain anything. I don’t want to think about my best friend manhandling my little sister.”
“If it makes it any better sometimes she ties me up.” Jungkook supplies, deviously grinning.
Jimin balks. Thankfully the shade of red you turn matches your blouse, blending the humiliation in perfectly.“I think I need a drink or five. I’ll be back when the image of you two together is no longer seared in my brain.” your brother mumbles disappearing into the throngs of people.
You watch his blonde hair disappear still too frozen in embarrassment to protest. Deep down you hope he knows things aren't serious between you and Jungkook. While you enjoy Jungkook’s company and really enjoy the sex, you can’t see either of you moving past what you have. As you said previously too many things need fixing until anything real solid occurs. "I'm adding on a shopping spree to my list of punishments toward your credit card."
Jungkook smirks. "As long as I get to see you try things on I don't care. Shall we tell Jimin about your kink for punishing me?"
"I hate you. " the smile on your lips contradicts any heat behind the words.
Jungkook smiles back, squeezing your hand yet again. "See? Five minutes in and you're still standing. "
"Barely. My brother found out I'm fucking his best friend in the first five minutes of this thing. I call that bad luck."
"Bbbbbuuttt…. He didn't freak out. " Jungkook practically chirps. A wide grin splits his face in half; your hands swing eagerly in his, a telling sign of excitement for Jungkook. One of your eyebrows rises in wonderment as what about Jimin’s reaction could enlist such a response in the dark haired boy. "Which I think is a sign for us to go public. "
You blink looking up at the practically beaming boy. A sick sense of dread floods you, the world suddenly shifts out from underneath and you find yourself drowning in an ocean of anxiety. Did he say public? As in the two of you together together? "Jungkook, we're not…. You and I aren't-"
Words fail leaving you tongue tied. How could this happen? Why would he think you guys are dating? Just because two people have a casual relationship of sex and hang outs didn't mean they were together. Sure Jungkook did a lot of things like drive you places, text 'good morning' and 'good night,' paid for whatever you guys did, but that’s what friends did. And it isn’t like you did anything relationship-y, just sent him snap chats of your day, sometimes brought him lunch when his dumb ass forgot it, and occasionally rub his back or if you felt generous cooked his favorite meal after a hard day - omg where you dating Jungkook?!
The thought brings an overwhelming sense of fear, one accompanied by a flurry of past memories. All of Jungkook’s misdeeds-even the one excused by Jimin spring to mind. Desperately you try to push them away reminding yourself that they were forgiven, however Jennie Kim’s laughter in the background only reiterates the past pain.
'Freak.’ Her voice cackles in your head. ‘Jungkook is right about you, you’re just a freak.’
“No..” You whisper to it.
“Princess?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowing.
‘And what Jungkook said about you being a slut probably isn’t true, but I really can’t handle all this drama between you two.’ Hoseok’s words floats through
You grit your teeth forcing the memory back. No. These are all things from the past. They no longer held any power over you. They could no longer hurt you.
“All you ever do is talk about that Jungkook guy. I’m tired of it, (Y/N). It’s like you’re stuck on him or something.” Your ex-boyfriend’s words broke through. He broke up with you that day, claiming to want a two not three people relationship. At the time you never gave his words any thought, too heartbroken and angry by the whole thing to even consider any truth behind them. Even after fucking Jungkook in his backseat a few months later, you thought nothing more of those words.
“(Y/N), Princess, tell me what’s on your mind?” Jungkook requests, moving so all you can see is him. Staring at him, you realize how much the bambi eyed boy affected your life. Letting it go would be the smart thing to do...unfortunately you aren’t smart enough to give it all up.
“We are just friends, Kook.” You answer, untangling your hands from his. “Nothing else.”
The smile slips from his face, and although you steeled your heart, the pained expression on his face manages to puncture it. Yet again a torrent of confusing emotions bubble up inside you, none the usual giddy euphoric ones felt when around Jungkook. “Right. Friends. I know I was just joking around (Y/N). Overreact much?” he says, a faux cheerful tone in his voice. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to get a drink. I’ll be back.”
“Jungkook…” you say, but it’s too late. Like Jimin, he walks into the party, blending in with the many faces and backs you see. Biting your lip, you try to ignore the hollow pain quickly swallowing up your entire being. It hurts. Worse than anything you have ever experienced. It is as if someone stabbed you in the chest and left you to bleed. Why though? You rejected Jungkook, not the other way around.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in after all these years.” a sharp feminine voice breaks through your thoughts. Immediately your blood runs cold at the sound of it. Anxiety creeps under your skin, its movements very much reminiscent of maggots inside a corpse. There are very few voices you can recognize off hand: your parents, Jimin, Jungkook and..Jennie Kim, the main tormentor of your childhood years.
Also the last person you want to see period.
“Six years, yet you still are an ugly duckling (Y/N). You must tell me how you keep your head held high.” Jennie sniffs. Although facing away you can still see the way she stares down at you, chin raised, nose wrinkled, lips pulled into an impatient smile; her usual expression when talking to you.
“Jennie, stop. We’re no longer in high school. Let’s just leave her alone.” a softer voice timidly says. Lisa Manoban, you recognize. She was always the nicest of the four, acting more of a follower than an instigator. Still your hopes for Jennie walking away are slim to none, especially given in high school she was like a dog with a bone when it came to you. Nothing you did or said ever stopped her from bullying you.
“Calm down, Lisa. I am only talking to her. After all it is a party-though I don’t remember anyone inviting her.” Jennie pushes. Her clipped tone gives away the annoyance building at your lack of reaction. You imagine she mistakes it all for some tough act rather than pure unadulterated fear. “Hey! Say something, duckling! What makes you think you can just walk into Lisa’s house uninvited?”
“Jennie, I really don’t mind-”
“I invited her.” Someone speaks out. “You got a problem with that?”
Jungkook. He came back. Air returns to your lungs allowing you to breathe. Words can't accurately describe how his mere presence washes away any terror inside you. Simply having Jungkook by your side gives you an invincible feeling. Unable to contain your relief, you spin around ready to grasp onto him. “Jung- Hoseok?”
Hoseok gives you a kind smile, soft brown eyes flickering with acknowledgment. He’s not the one you hoped for, and he knows it. “Sorry (Y/N), there was a line for drinks. I didn’t mean to leave you that long,” He offers you the bottle of soju in his hands. “I know you said to surprise you, but I kinda panicked.”
“This is perfect, thanks.” you say, pulling the bottle close.
Jennie scoffs, her sharp eyes roam your body scrutinizingly; it takes everything within you not to hunch up in fear again. As a teenager, Jennie was a real beauty, her flawless skin, petite figure and shiny black hair dubbed her the moniker : Snow White. Every girl in your school dreamt of becoming her, you too couldn’t stop from envying her charm and draw. No one could deny Jennie. They all wanted to be her friend. Something you deeply longed for.
Standing in front of you today, it’s clear nothing has changed since then. Jennie looks prettier than ever dressed in a black ruffled top, stopping right above her belly button, a pair of equally short shorts and knee high boots. On anyone else the combination would scream ‘hooker,’ but Jennie appears nothing short of a goddess. “Really, Hoseok? You’re giving that another go? You can do so much better you know. There are plenty, better looking girls willing to fuck-”
“Jennie! That’s enough.” Lisa cries, doe-like eyes broadening. Pink dusts her round cheeks. While also gorgeous, Lisa’s appearance always ranged on the cute side, her dailey wear tending to be more comfy and adorable than Jenny’s. (Ironic, because she was a dancer in high school, and her outfits never fell below a PG-13 rating). No night shows this difference between the pair better than tonight. Unlike Jennie’s outfit, Lisa wears a simple orange tank top hidden under a store-bought letterman jacket, jeans, and house slippers.
Hoseok frowns. “The size of your ego never fails to surprise me, Jennie. Six years since high school and you still can’t get over that “It” girl mentality despite being washed up.”
A sharp gasp escapes her pretty red lips. “Washed up? Washed up?! Are you blind or something, oppa? I’ve only glowed up since then. I am way more beautiful than that thing over there.”
She points at you.
“I said that’s enough, Jennie!” Lisa snaps, surprising everyone. Fury radiates from her tiny being. Her face has now become a lovely shade of red. “(Y/N) has done nothing to deserve your hatred. The only thing she’s guilty of is Jungkook having a crush on her. So rather than take your jealousness and insecurity out on her, why don’t you kick Jungkook’s ass instead? He’s who dumps you everytime she comes home.”
“What? What is she talking about?” You blurt out.
Were the two of them together? If so, why did Jungkook dump her for you? It didn’t make sense.
Pity flashes across Lisa’s and Hoseok’s faces, their lips thinning into a hard frown. Silence permeates the small circle where you guys stood, quieting any noise outside of it. The awkwardness of the situation is so palpable that time itself slows down dragging it out. What feels like a full minute passes until Jennie clicks her tongue breaking the monontity. “Jungkook has been trying to fuck you since middle school. Something about the way you wag your tail and don’t share gets him hot-”
“Jennie.” Lisa says, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“No. She wanted to know.” Jennie shakes her off. “ Jungkook likes the chase; the longer the run, the sweeter the victory. And duckling, he’s been chasing you for a long time.”
You blink trying to comprehend her words. “I don’t believe you. Jungkook's not like that. He’s a good guy.”
“Sorry, duckling. I don’t know what he’s told you, but Jungkook definitely isn’t interested beyond the bedroom. Once he has you, his little crush will go ‘poof’ just like it does for all the rest of his conquests.”
“Enough Jennie. You don’t know anything about Jungkook or his feelings for (Y/N).” Hoseok interrupts.
“I know he told you what a slut she was. Quite loudly too, if I remember correctly.” Jennie snaps, causing your blood to freeze. Catching the terror on your face, she grins wickedly. “Sorry, I thought you knew? Jungkook announced it to the whole basketball team while they were leaving.”
“You’re lying! Jungkook wouldn’t do that.” you defend, pushing back the tears threatening to well up. However even you can hear the doubt in your voice. Through blurry eyes you turn towards Hosek, all your hope and faith placed into one tiny question. “Right, Hoseok?”
“Yeah Hoseok. You were on the team back then. Tell us who is right.” Jennie presses.
He casts his eyes downwards avoiding your stare. Something breaks inside you. An unbearable numbness sweeps over your being. Someone speaks, but only wordless noises reach your ears. “Oh.” you murmur. “Oh...oh…”
Your knees buckle out from underneath, causing you to fall. Thankfully Hoseok catches you before you meet the floor.“Come on, (Y/N) let’s move elsewhere. Everything will get better once we move away from her-”
“I wanna go home.” you say emotionless. Nothing makes sense. Only a few minutes ago you rejected any idea of being anything more than friends. So why did it hurt like this?
Why did you feel like someone ripped your heart out?
“(Y/N), I would never purposefully hurt you.”
Moreover, why did you ever listen to such lies?
“What’s going on here?” Jungkook’s voice rings out. Fire flickers behind his eyes as they fall onto your vulnerable form still steadied in Hoseok’s arms. The cup he holds crunches cracking in his hands. Its mysterious liquids spill on Lisa’s hard vinyl floor tiles, however the hostess says nothing. “(Y/N), what’s wrong? Why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
He reaches out, only to recoil sharply when you flinch. “Princess?”
Summoning whatever strength left you manage to speak. “We had a deal. If you ditched me, I’d leave. I’m going to leave now, don’t follow.”
“I don’t understand, (Y/N). Is this about what I said earlier, because I was just joking. I didn’t actually mean it.” Jungkook pleads, again reaching for you.
You move out of his reach, hiding slightly behind Hoseok. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. Every fiber of my being warned me not too-but I stupidly ignored it. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
He scrunches his face, line forming between his eyebrows. “(Y/N), I don’t know what you’re going on about. We were fine a couple minutes ago. ”
. “I know about your predilections for whoring around. Not that I care much seeing how I only wanted to be friends with benefits.” You snort cutting him off. “What I do care about is that you told everyone I was a slut, not just Hoseok. That the reason my high school years were so miserable is because you see me as nothing more than a play thing.”
“(Y/N), calm down. You are jumping the gun. “ Hoseok speaks out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure if we all talk, everything will sort itself out-”
. “Don’t touch her ever! You hear me, Jung Hoseok?” Jungkook snaps, grabbing Hoseok by the shirt.
The sunny boy raises his hands in peace. “Look, I’m just trying to help my friend.”
“Help your friend my ass. I don’t know what lies you whispered in her ear, but I’ll die before I let you sink your grimy hands into her.” Jungkook hisses, grip tightening on Hoseok’s shirt.
The noise rings throughout the house drawing everyone's attention. If record players were still a thing undoubtedly one would scratch like in the movies. Your hand throbs something fierce however given the angry red imprint on Jungkook's face it only makes sense. The shock and betrayal on his face should make you happy, instead a new heaviness fills your heart.
"(Y/N), what the fuck's wrong with you!" Jimin cries, pushing his way through the gathering crowd. He grabs your wrist, "I don't know what's going on, but I'm tired of this bullshit attitude towards Jungkook. "
You pull away hissing at him, feeling anger once again bubbling. Unlike Jungkook, it is easy to get/stay mad at Jimin. He is your older brother. His duty is to protect you, yet Jimin coerced you into trusting Jungkook. "My bullshit attitude? You're my older brother yet you let your best friend treat me like some play thing."
"(Y/N), what are you talking about? I thought we settled this? I would never hurt you-" Jungkook repeats.
"Shut up! Shut up! I'm tired of the lies. I know you told everyone I was a freak, a slut. I know you only see me as another notch in your belt." You're in hysterics. Tears running, body trembling, face red, nose undoubtedly dripping snot, humiliating overall. But nowhere near as humiliated as you feel right now. "Going public. Inviting me to this party. It was all a show wasn't it? So everyone could see how pathetic I am?"
"It's not like that and you know it." Jimin sighs, as Jungkook merely states.
"Fuck off Jimin. I'm done. Done with you, him, everyone-"
"I'll leave if that's what you want. " Jungkook says suddenly, his voice a low whisper. "I'll disappear from your life completely if it will make you happy. "
"It's up to her, Jimin." Jungkook replies, firmly. "Whatever (Y/N) wants, I'll do. "
Yes sits at the tip of your tongue eagerly awaiting release, but for some reason your mouth refuses to open. No matter how much your brain screams yes, the thought of Jungkook disappearing forever stops you. He hurt you more than anyone else has yet some part of you still latches on to him. As if sensing your trouble, Lisa let out a loud clap calling the partygoers' attention to her. "Alright, that's enough of that. Everyone out of my house. "
When no one moves she reiterates. "I said get the fuck out!"
A string of grumbles and protests escape the disappointed mob, however they all listen slowly gathering their things, and heading out the door nearly every one of them shooting you and Jungkook a longing glance. Apparently being a gossip whore doesn't stop after high school. Hesitantly you too head towards the door, giving your own reluctant glance at Jungkook and your brother. Going home with the pair is the last thing on your bucket list you want to do. You don’t think you can handle both Jungkook or Jimin anytime soon.
"Nuh uh, you stay. " Lisa orders, suddenly latching onto your arm. While surprised you make no moves to shake her off. At this moment staying with Lisa Manoban seems like a better option than the former, even if Jennie Kim stays as well. "You guys leave, (Y/N) will spend the night with me. "
"You gotta be kidding me. I know you have a thing for strays, but this is ridiculous." Jennie huffs, arms crossed.
Jimin shoots a nasty glare at the former ‘IT’ girl, but also objects. "Lisa, I don't think that's a good idea. "
Lisa simply smiles, golden hair framing her face like she's an angel. "She's a grown ass woman, who can make her own decisions. (Y/N), do you want to stay here?"
You nod, mouth still sewn shut.
"There, she's staying. Now the four of you out or you won't like what I do next. " Lisa warns, ushering the three out. Jennie scoffs but walks out nonetheless. Whereas Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok take a bit more than a friendly shove to get rid of; Jungkook’s eyes send you a silent plea as Lisa pulls him to her door. Naturally you ignore him casting your own eyes downwards. Just because you couldn’t say ‘yes,’ doesn’t mean you forgive him.
The sound of the door slamming shut echoes throughout the house, and Lisa comes literally bouncing over, sunny smile intact. “Come (Y/N), let's get a drink.”
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We Belong Together (Part Two)
I’ll have you know that I have most of this written so updates will be consistent. To quote Nu’est, I’m in Trouble but I don’t care lmao.
Word count: 1265
“Choi Seungcheol, I am about to make a copy of this key and give it to you so you can stop disrupting my sleep.” You leaned against the front door, more asleep than awake and tried to look annoyed at the four boys who showed up tonight. If anything though, you looked tired so there went any chance of being scary. “What are you in for now?”
“The electricity went out at the studio again,” Seungcheol admitted sheepishly. “We were doing some things and then it was pitch black.”
“So naturally you decide to come here.”
“You said you owed me, and what better way to pay back the best kpop group you’ve ever seen than to spare us your lights and water?” He smiled brightly.
“Don’t you have to debut first in order to earn that title? Besides, I’m pretty sure the landlord already thinks it’s odd that I’m using a lot more things than usual?” You already knew you were gonna let them in but it was fun to watch him squirm because he’d lose his confidence as the team leader and resort to pouting and eventually begging.
“Come on! Once we’re famous, all utilities will go under my name and you’ll never have to pay anything again.”
“And what if you don’t make it work?”
“Then you’ll be helping us out of the kindness of your heart.”
“That kindness was used up the day I bought you those sodas.” For him and 12 others nonetheless. “Alright, but keep it down. I have to open in a few hours. Help yourselves to anything.”
“You’re not staying?”
You shook your head, the door feeling more like a pillow the longer you stayed on it. “I trust you guys.” Not really, but you’ve seen them multiple times at the corner store you worked at although you mainly knew Cheol by name and you knew where to find them.
“I told you I had it covered,” he told the boys he was with. “Oh! Before I forget. Y/N, you’ve already met Vernon, but this is Soonyoung and Jihoon. They’re also in the group with us.”
The one named Soonyoung grabbed the boy next to him, throwing his arm around his shoulders. “Also known as Hoshi and Woozi, the best double duo you’ll ever see!”
“How redundant,” Jihoon said, shoving him off.
“Make yourselves at home,” you told everyone. “You’re welcome to everything I have and if I don’t have what you’re looking for then you can either suffer or go to the nearest store, but please lock up.” You were too tired for any other interactions other than to warn them to watch their steps. “Good night.”
And from there, your sleep vanished the moment you went back to bed. You couldn’t tell if the constant thump thumps or if the nonstop talking and snatching of things were more annoying but with every noise they made, you flipped on every side in hopes of drowning out everything.
Every so often, Seungcheol would shush the boys and tell them in his equally loud voice, “Y/N is asleep! Be quiet before we all get kicked out!” which would’ve been sweet if you didn't have to be up in -quick phone glance- six hours and 43, no 42 minutes. Finally, you just kicked off your covers, found your slippers and opened your door as dramatically as possible.
Seungcheol was on the floor, possibly dead, Hoshi (you applauded your brain for remembering his name, especially at this hour) attempting to resuscitate him, Hansol looking like he was about to kick him and Jihoon drumming on the couch to an unfamiliar rhythm. At hearing you, they looked up like deer caught in headlights.
“Were we too loud?” Seungcheol asked standing up quickly to dust himself off. “I’m sorry. We were working on our choreo and Jihoon was showing us the music.”
“What was that?” You asked. If they were gonna keep you up, they might as well tell you.
“Hopefully, our debut song.” Jihoon looked up at you, finally speaking to you. He started shaking his head, mumbling to himself. “This was wrong; I knew it. I have to call Bumzu, scrap everything. Soonyoung you might have to start over, I’m sorry. If you don’t like it, who knows how everyone’s gonna receive it….”
“Hyung, lay off the caffeine dude.” Vernon chuckled nervously. “No one outside of us has even heard the song. Don’t stress yourself out over nothing.”
“He’s right,” you spoke up. “I’m just confused why everyone is on the floor. I’m sure the song sounds great.” You offered him and them a reassuring smile.
“It is great! They wrote the entire thing because our company can’t afford to give us good writers.” Soonyoung picked up a bag of popcorn, stuffing his face with it. “I came up with the dance for the same reason. I’m sure we can show you everything when it’s ready. Ow!” He glared at Jihoon who shrugged. “What was that for?!”
“Maybe you should shut up and not promise things you can’t deliver.”
“Oh come on! Even if we don’t debut, and that’s gonna be such a bitch to explain to my mom, we can at least show one person our hard work.”
“Don’t get it twisted.” Jihoon turned his attention back to you a little after Soonyoung begged you to let him take a shower and disappeared after showing you the routine. “He wants the world to acknowledge his talent, but if you can satisfy his ego, by all means, do so.” He sat back down on the couch with the heaviest sigh, and dug through one of the backpacks they brought until he found a notebook. He flipped through a few pages until he read something from it and tore it off. “This sounds stupid, anyways.”
“You guys can do it,” you offered him a half smile. You hesitantly sat next to him, putting some distance in there, while the other two raided your kitchen for food. “Don’t be so quick to take yourself out.” you nodded at the ring on his finger. “From what Seungcheol tells me, you busted your ass to make it this far. And personally, if you guys don’t debut because you didn’t didn’t give yourselves the chance, it’s gonna suck because I like seeing you guys while I’m at work, and occasionally here.” You stood up. “Good night...again.”
The dim lighting the boys provided gave you a glimpse of the peeling on a part of the wall, and when you noticed it, you sighed, knowing that the landlord wouldn’t let you paint over it if it wasn’t a certain white color. What you wouldn’t give to move right at that very moment.
Just before you shut the door, you snuck a peek at the four boys, smiling at their concentrated expressions. Jihoon looked up from the notebook he was scribbling on at that moment, and caught your eye. So you did the most appropriate thing: you smiled at him, panicked because you wouldn’t have normally smiled at a stranger in your sleep deprived state, slammed your door with slightly more force than you intended to and fled to your bed, hiding under the covers so he wouldn’t find you.
Little did you know that Jihoon drew a happy face on his sheet of paper, boosting his mood, finding some encouragement in your words and crossing out a couple of words and rewriting new lyrics, testing them out in his head, and once satisfied called his friend over. “Hey, Hoshi. Try singing this real quick.”
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Karina's golden eyes fluttered open as the sunlight seeped in through her curtains. With a big stretch and a yawn, she got out of bed and started to get ready for her day. She had class, so there was no sleeping in and if she were to be late, she knew she could expect a lecture about tardiness from Tenya. Once she was ready and in her uniform, she grabbed her backpack, opened her bedroom door and walked out into the hallway and made her way to the elevator. She didn’t see Momo or Tsu on her way, the only other two girls on the fifth floor with her, and she didn’t hear either of them in their rooms either. Usually she could at least hear Momo since her room was right next door. She thought nothing of it, figuring they must already be downstairs as she got on the elevator and rode it down to the first floor without any stops. That was also strange, even more so as she exited the elevator and she realized it was strangely quiet. Usually there was the normal hustle and bustle noises of everyone getting ready, walking around the building, or even just the smell of someone making breakfast, but today there was nothing. It was eerily quiet and it put her on edge as she walked out into the living area. When she got there, her eyes went wide in horror and her backpack dropped from her shoulder and hit the ground beside her. Her friends were scattered across the entire area; Momo, Jiro, Denki, Sero, Koda, Bakugo, Mina, and Kirishima all laying on the floor, over the couch, even on a table. Pools of blood were around each one of them and they all looked lifeless. Karina ran to Kirishima who was the closest to her, falling to her knees beside him and pulling him close while desperately searching for a pulse, but there wasn't one. "Eiji, no. Please. Open your eyes. Wake up!" Her heart was pounding in her chest and tears started streaming down her face as she clung to him. That was when Himiko walked out from around a corner, grinning and covered in blood as she looked at Karina. "Look at what you did, Kari." Karina looked up at the sound of her sisters voice, shocked that she was there. She glared at her sister, shaking her head and clutching onto Kirishima tightly. "No! I would never do this! You did this! How could you Himiko?!" Himiko started laughing sadistically and arched a brow at her younger sister. "Oh, but it was you Karina." She motioned her head towards Kirishima and Karina looked down and froze in fear, her eyes wide in horror and her tears still flowing freely. She was covered in blood and was holding one of Himiko's knives as it protruded from Kirishima's chest. "N-No. No, no, no. Eijiro..." Karina whimpered as Himiko walked over and knelt down beside her, wrapping an arm around her tightly while smiling proudly. "You're just like me Kari."
Karina jolted awake, sweating profusely as she looked around desperately, trying to find her sister lurking somewhere in the shadows of her room. Her heart was racing in her chest, strands of her crimson hair clung to the sweat on her skin and tears had started to stream down her face as she sat there in her bed. Finally, she started to take deep breaths and calm herself down, reaching up and pushing her long hair off and away from her face. "It was just a nightmare. She's not here. No one is dead." She swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to be there as she climbed out of bed, wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks, and looked at her phone that was sitting on the nightstand next to her bed. It was almost three in the morning and the only notification on her screen was a text message from Mina saying 'good night' from a few hours earlier. With a heavy sigh, she pulled on a hoodie and put her long crimson hair up into a messy bun before walking to the small bathroom in her room, pushing the door open and flicking on the light that made her squint her eyes slightly. She washed her face quickly, trying to wake herself up because after that nightmare, she wasn't too keen on going back to sleep. Once she was done, she left her room, got into the elevator and rode it down to the first floor. After exiting the elevator, she headed towards the living area but hesitated with rounding the corner, images of her nightmare flashing through her mind. With a shake of her head and after taking another deep breath, she walked around the corner and was relieved and surprised to see Bakugo sitting on the couch alone, watching something on the TV. He looked over at her and arched an eyebrow with a confused look on his face. "What the hell are you doing up so late?" Karina smiled, happy to see him alive and well, and walked over and sat beside him on the couch. "I had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep. What about you?" He looked at her and then sighed and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I couldn't sleep either." She could tell he wasn't telling her the whole truth in the way he hesitated when he initially told her, but she didn't push him. It had been about a month and a half since their fight in the gym and since then they had become a bit closer, but as usual he kept his feelings to himself. She turned her attention to the TV to see what he was watching and she smiled brightly. "Is this All Mights Greatest Rescues?" Bakugo looked at her with slight shock before nodding his head. "Yeah, it is." Karina got up and started to head towards the kitchen. "Hell yeah. You want some popcorn?" Bakugo looked over at her as she walked away. "You're gonna stay up and watch it with me?" She looked over at him from the entry way to the kitchen, a confused look on her face. "Well yeah. Is that okay with you Mr. Explosion Murder?" Bakugo smirked and turned back to face the TV. "King Explosion Murder, and yeah I guess that’s okay."
Once the popcorn was done, Karina poured it into a large bowl and then walked back over to the couch and sat beside Bakugo. She placed the bowl in her lap and made herself comfy next to him before turning her attention to the TV. "Did you start it over?" He took a handful of popcorn and nodded his head as he shoved the food into his mouth. "Thanks." She smiled and tossed a few pieces of the popcorn into her own mouth as he started up the movie. They sat there for a little over an hour, silently watching the movie while eating the popcorn until Bakugo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "So what was your nightmare about? Must've been bad if you're too afraid to go back to sleep." Karina looked over at him, brow arched in curiosity. "I never said I was afraid to go back to sleep." He scoffed at her. "I'm not dumb Red. You're fighting to keep your eyes open." She looked at him a bit surprised that he had even noticed, but it brought a small smile to her lips as she turned her attention back to the TV. "Well you know, the normal nightmare type stuff. Everyone I love and care about being murdered by a crazy person and me showing up too late to stop them." She looked at him again. "What was your nightmare about?" He looked away from the TV and over at her, a somewhat confused look on his face. “The hell are you talkin’ about?” "I'm not dumb either Katsuki, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She was about to turn her attention back to the TV, but instead of dismissing her like she expected him to do, he actually did the opposite. "I wouldn't say nightmare exactly. More like PTSD." He trailed off, looking back at the TV that currently showed All Might talking in an interview after saving a bunch of people, as usual. Karina looked over at him and frowned. He looked like he had more to say, but of course he was hesitant and closed off. "From what happened with the League of Villains?" She questioned rather quietly, hoping she wouldn't anger him in asking. He seemed to tense up slightly and Karina quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me. Especially if it effects you like that. I shouldn't have asked. I-I can go if yo-" "You talk too much." He interrupted her and she looked at him with surprise. She was about to speak up, but he cut her off before she had the chance to say anything. "Yeah, from the League." He wasn't looking at her as he spoke, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him. "Understandable. You've been through a lot in the past couple of years. Have you...Have you ever tried talking to someone about it? It might help." Bakugo scoffed and finally looked back at her but he was taken aback a bit by the look of concern on her face. "I'm fine. I don't need to talk about it." Regardless of what he might be telling her, she felt as if she couldn't just leave it be. She reached out and gently placed her hand on top of his and smiled at him reassuringly. "I don't know the extent of what haunts you Katsuki, but just know that it's not your fault. You weren't to blame for anything that happened and I know you might not want to hear it, but you were a victim. Don't let that hold you back and don't look down on yourself because of it though. Let it make you stronger. Let it drive you. You're strong and I know you know that. Just don't let it go to your head." She teased with a smile.
Bakugo stared at her as she spoke, a subtle blush on his cheeks not just from what she was saying but also her hand lingering on his. With how explosive he normally was paired with his short temper, not many people were as calm and gentle like this with him and it kind of threw him off. Once she was done, he swallowed hard and looked away from her and back towards the TV, pulling his hand away from hers at the same time. "Sure, I guess. Let's finish the movie." Karina frowned slightly as he obviously closed off his emotions and shut her out, but she couldn't be upset at him. He was traumatized, whether he admitted it or not, and he had probably heard what she just said to him more than a few times. She sighed softly and nodded her head, turning her attention back to the movie on the TV. Thinking to herself, she couldn’t help but be angry at her sister. She was part of the reason Bakugo was feeling the way he was because of her affiliation and cooperation with the League. Her older sister helped traumatize one of her friends and she couldn’t help but feel terrible. She knew deep down it wasn’t her fault, but because of all the bullying she had gone through in the past, she felt guilty by association. She sighed quietly to herself and pushed the thoughts from her head and tried to focus on the movie. After about fifteen more minutes, it was getting harder and harder for Karina to keep her eyes open and finally, she leaned over and laid her head on Bakugo's shoulder and her eyes slowly closed. He looked down at her and saw that she was asleep, so he slowly moved his arm around her and over her shoulders, letting her fall into him and continue sleeping. With the warmth of Karina beside him, it didn't take long for Bakugo to also fall asleep, his head tilting back against the couch as he slept. When morning came, the first one awake was Iida, therefore he was the first one in the living area and the first one to spot the two asleep on the couch, cuddled up close together in the positions they had fallen asleep in. He stared in surprise, unsure on what to do in the situation. As he stared, Midoriya walked up from behind him and as soon as he saw the same sight as Iida, his jaw dropped. "I-Is that Kacchan and Karina?" "Yes. Yes it is." Iida confirmed. "Should we wake them up?" Midoriya asked, unable to tear his eyes from the sleeping duo. "They have to start getting ready for class, so yes." Midoriya nodded in agreement and walked over cautiously before tapping on Bakugo's unoccupied shoulder. "Kacchan. Kacchan." He whispered, trying not to wake Karina. Bakugo grumbled and swung his free arm, smacking Midoriya upside the back of his head. "Why the hell are you waking me up Deku?" Midoriya flinched at the smack to his head. "W-Well uhhh, you're kind of sleeping on the couch in the common area. With Karina." Bakugo opened one eye, glaring at Midoriya and then looking down at Karina with both eyes open. She was still fast asleep and he looked back at Midoriya. "Go call the girls elevator Deku." Midoriya gave a confused look. "Call the elevator?" "Did I stutter?" Bakugo snapped back at him, yelling at him but in a whisper tone. Karina shifted slightly, but remained asleep and Bakugo froze when she moved, glaring at Midoriya once she had settled. "If she wakes up, I'll kill you. Now go call the damn elevator." Midoriya nodded his head and quickly made his way to the girls side of the dorms, hurrying to the elevator and pressing the call button like Bakugo told him to.
While Midoriya was doing what he asked, Bakugo moved carefully and lifted Karina into his arms effortlessly. His arm that was already around her shoulders remained there while his other hand went under her legs and lifted her up. As he carried her to the elevator, she nuzzled herself against his chest and he couldn't help the small subtle blush that came to his face. It quickly disappeared however, once he met Midoriya at the elevator door that he was keeping open for them. "You can go now Deku." He spat as he walked into the elevator with Karina and carefully pressed the button for the fifth floor. Midoriya still had a somewhat shocked and confused look on his face, but walked away regardless. Once the doors opened for the fifth floor, Bakugo carried Karina towards her room, but right as he walked past Momo’s room, she opened her bedroom door still in her pajamas and stared at them in surprise. “Umm, good morning Bakugo.” Bakugo looked back at her and then over towards Karina’s room. “Can you open her door for me?” He didn’t bother greeting her like she had done to him, but she nodded regardless, still unsure on what exactly was going on. After opening Karina’s bedroom door for him, Bakugo thanked Momo and walked into her room. Momo stood there for a moment before making her way back to her own room. Bakugo carried Karina into her room and over to her bed and laid her down carefully. Once she was out of his arms, Karina grumbled slightly and curled up into a ball, trying to make up for the sudden lack of warmth. Bakugo pulled her blankets on top of her and then walked out of her room, closing the door behind him. As he turned around, Mina was standing there with wide eyes and her toothbrush in hand. "What pinky?" Mina shook her head. "Oh nothing, nothing. I was just coming to check on Kari since she wasn’t texting me back." Bakugo rolled his eyes and started to walk away but then stopped and only half turned back towards Mina. "You should let her sleep in. She didn't get a lot of sleep last night." Mina nearly choked on her own spit. "Ew! Bakugo! I don't need to know that! I didn't even know you were capable of doing something like that!" He turned around to face her, a confused look on his face. "What the hell are you talking about?! Capable of doing what?!" "I'm talking about how I didn't need to know about how you kept her up all night!" Bakugo stared at her blankly for a moment, clearly confused before it clicked in his head what she was talking about. "I'm not talking about that Mina! For fucks sake! She had a nightmare and didn't get a lot of sleep! Are you out of your damned mind?!" "Well when you come walking out of her room first thing in the morning and you say something like that, what am I supposed to think?!" "Not that!" He yelled back at her before storming off, leaving Mina standing outside Karina's room. She wanted to know what had happened, but as she looked at Karina's door, she sighed softly and turned to walk away. She didn't think Bakugo would lie about something like that, so she let her friend sleep, but had every intention on asking her about what happened later on in the day.
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