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write-ur-wrongs · 3 years

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The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’)

Prompt: Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

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You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

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#1 Fan [Part 1/2]

Summary: Spencer knows he’s seen his new neighbor somewhere before.

A/N: This was a blurb request from my sideblog that got completely out of hand so here she is as a full fic! (We’re gonna pretend like I know how OnlyFans works)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff & Smut

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, masturbation (male & female), voyeurism(?), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 2.9k

Request: “Blurb about basically the same fic as the other one except she just moved in and he recognizes her as the person he subs to on OF. She’s describing her hot neighbor- and yeah” from @thatsonezesty13

Masterlist

Read Part 2 Here

The first time Spencer sees her in the lobby grabbing her mail he thinks he’s in a dream. Or maybe he’s seeing things. For a second he’s terrified that he’s having a hyper-realistic, yet somehow mundane, wet dream.

He’s been subscribed to her for a while. To be honest once he’d found her account he didn’t have much of a need to subscribe to anyone else. She was almost tailor made for him, it was sort of scary.

So when he saw her that day, and she smiled at him, giving him a small wave as she passed him in the hall, his heart all but stopped.

That night he checked her page. He compared the pictures of the sweet girl in the hall with the ones in front of him. The photos where she was wearing next to nothing, or sometimes nothing at all. The ones where she had her fingers inside of her panties, or her mouth.

He ended up spiraling that evening, partially forgetting why he was even looking in the first place. Until he was watching videos of her, fucking into herself with a toy until she was squirting onto her bedsheets.

The following morning when he woke up he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t her. How could it be? And if it was, would he have to stop looking? Something felt a bit perverted about that.

So he pushed the thoughts from his head. And that lasted all of 10 seconds because there was a knock on his front door. When he opened it up it was her standing there, the girl from the mailboxes, and the girl from the videos. He knew they were one and the same, who was he kidding?

“Hi!” She sticks out her hand to introduce herself, “I think I saw you the other day, I’ve just moved into the building, Y/N.”

He knows her name already, well he knows her first name, and part of him’s a little surprised it’s not fake.

He takes a moment to consider her hand, he wouldn’t usually shake a strangers hand like this but for some reason he didn’t feel like she was a stranger. The real reason her didn’t want to shake her hand was because of all the things he’d pictured her doing with them. Touching herself, touching him.

But he’s hesitated for too long, so he takes her hand, shaking it gently, “Spencer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Nice to— uh, meet you” he has to force his breaths out or they might not come. Looking at her up close, in person, she was too beautiful. And he already thought that about her pictures.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, I always like to know the folks in my building. And especially you if we’re gonna be neighbors”

“Neighbors?” He tries to stop his eyes from popping out of his head but she doesn’t seem to notice. She just nods happily.

“Yup, I’m right on the other side of that wall” she points to her right and giggles, “knock if you need me” she jokes but Spencer’s breathing stops entirely and he can only nod.

“So um, if you wanted to hang out or anything you know where to find me” she smiles at him and starts to head back to her apartment.

He’s not sure what’s come over him, but it feels like adrenaline is coursing through his entire body as he speaks.

“I’m free right now if you’re not busy?” He asks before she can get too far away but she shakes her head.

“I’ve actually gotta head out for a bit but if you’re free tomorrow do you wanna come over and see my place. I’m sure it’s probably the exact same as yours but—”

“Yes!— I mean, um, yeah, that sounds nice, cool” she laughs at him a little, probably at his eagerness, or maybe at the way he’s blushing, he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks.

“See you then Spencer, Dr. Spencer Reid” she giggles and he’s smitten already.

— —

He’s pretty much counting down the seconds until the following evening. His mind is completely restless, he’s got no idea what to wear or how to act, or what to say.

She was just so pretty, he could barely have a 2 minute conversation with her in the hallway. How was he supposed to hang out with her for an evening.

She slips a note under his door the following afternoon:

I’m on my way out but I should be back around 8! See you then x

He wishes he didn’t stare at the little ‘x’ on the note for quite so long but he couldn’t help it. Even her handwriting was cute.

He doesn’t want to think about why he knows her already but he can’t help it. He decides that he’s not going to look at her page again, taking a cold shower as part of his preparation for that evening before agonizing over what to wear.

He settles on a purple sweater and he already feels like he’s made the wrong call somehow as he’s knocking on her door at 8pm on the dot.

“Well aren’t you punctual” she smiles at him as she pulls open the door. His stomach drops when he realizes that he recognizes the little dress she’s wearing. He’s seen her take it off before. He tries to steady his breathing but it doesn’t work super well so he just waves hello as she ushers him inside.

“I guess you got my note then” she smiles and he smiles back.

“Yeah, your— um— handwriting is really nice” he wants to slap himself in the face. What kind of complement was that?

“Thank you?” she giggles at him, “no ones ever said that before, you’re a bit of an oddball” she points him to the sofa so he sits.

When she comes to sit next to him she’s holding a bottle of wine and two glasses and he has to stop his eyes from bulging out of his head.

“Would you like a glass?” She asks and he nods his head, it probably wasn’t a great idea, but neither was any of this. She hands him a glass of wine and takes the seat next to him on the couch, turning to face him as she tucks her legs up under herself.

“So Spencer Reid, what kind of doctor are you?” she asks as she takes a sip from her own glass.

“I’m—um— I work at the FBI actually, I— I’m a profiler” he’s already conscious that he doesn’t want to bore her by harping on about work, or by rambling like he does right before people usually roll their eyes. But she doesn’t, she leans in.

“That’s so cool, well it sounds like it is anyway? Does that mean you read people or something?” her eyes look like they're after lighting up and she's smiling at him encouraging.

“Y-Yeah? It’s sort of like reading people I guess. We catch killers by getting inside their heads in a way, trying to figure out why they’re doing what they’re doing, and hopefully what they’re gonna do next so that we can stop it. It’s a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist” he’s smiling now too, the way she’s looking at him makes him feel like he’s actually doing a sort of good job not embarrassing himself.

“So you said my handwriting was nice” she says, gears clearly turning, “Can you read anything about me from that?” she looks like she's challenging him, if he didn’t know better he might call it flirting.

“Well actually graphology—sorry— handwriting analysis has been deemed a pseudoscience by most, the validity of handwriting as evidence in court has always been dubious and many of the techniques used today are the same as those employed in Renaissance England.” he rambles but she’s still engaged when he stops speaking.

“So you’re smart smart, huh?” she smiles at him, and he nods.

“I don’t believe intelligence can be neatly quantified but I do have an IQ of 187” he feels paradoxically stupid saying that, it feels like bragging or something and he already wants to take it back.

“Wow, a doctor with an IQ of 187” she takes a second to mull it over, “What are you doing hanging out with the likes of me?” she jokes, but his eyebrows knit together, he had no idea what she did, other than that thing he knew she did.

“I wouldn't sell yourself short like that, what do you do?” he asks her, at the very least it’ll stop him from spiraling.

“I work in a vintage bookstore, the one two blocks over?” She motions behind her as she tells him, and he knows it well, in fact he spends so much time there that he’s shocked he’d never seen her before.

“You work there? I’m there all the time, how have I never noticed you before?” she chuckles at him.

“I’ve only just started, I just moved in, remember?” and he wants to slap himself again, something about being around such a pretty face slashed that impressive IQ in half.

They spend another while and the rest of the bottle of wine getting to know each other before Spencer has to call it a night. Part of him wished that she was boring, or rude, or hated him, then maybe he’d be able to quell his infatuation. But this just made it worse, now that he knew her, now that he had spoken to her and she was so sweet, so smart, so funny, and still so damn pretty. He was absolutely fucked.

— —

He swears to himself that the wont look at her page again. Now that he knew her and he liked her more than he even did before, it felt like a real invasion. Part of him still felt bad about it in general, like he should've told her right away, been up front. But the moment for that had already passed so this was his next best plan.

Until he returns home the following Friday. He’s exhausted when he crawls into bed but he’s still somehow restless, the gears still turning in is brain. So he does what he always does when he wants to forget about everything else in the world.

His muscle memory opens it up, and he’s on her page before he even realizes he's done it. And she’s posted a few new videos this week. He wishes he had better willpower, or any willpower at all, but he can’t seem to stop himself from clicking on one.

It begins with her kneeling on her bed, wearing lingerie he’d seen before, it was baby pink and it was one of his favorites. She starts by dipping her fingers into her panties, teasing herself as little moans toppled from her lips. Then she started talking.

“I’m gonna tell you guys about a little dream I had last night, well, I’ve been having it all week really” she continues to tease herself a little, her other hand coming up to grab her breast over her soft pink bra as she speaks. Her voice is smooth and perfect, if he only had the audio he’d still be turned on right now.

“It goes like this. I’m lying in this bed right here, doing something a little like this, when there’s a knock at my front door. When I get up to answer it he’s there, with his shaggy brown hair, and his huge doe eyes, and he’s got these lips that are just so fuckin’ pink. I want them all over me. He comes inside and he grabs me with those huge hands of his and he pulls me right into him before he kisses me.” she moans a little as her fingers brush right up against her clit, but Spencer’s vision has almost gone blurry.

He’s not sure he’s even breathing when she starts talking again. “Then I lead him to my bedroom, and I get him out of those clothes. He dresses like an english teacher and I wish I didn’t find it so fuckin’ hot. Sometimes in the fantasy I take his cock in my mouth, I suck him off until he’s whimpering. Other times I can’t wait, I just need him to fuck me right away.” she takes off her panties then, leaving them to one side, while she grabs a toy from her bedside table.

“I like to fuck myself with this, but all week I’ve just been imagining that it’s him. He’s just so pretty, I know his cock has to be too. I want to know what it feels like when he’s buried inside me, so fuckin’ deep” she continues to fuck herself with the toy, and he’s tuned back in now, he’s achingly hard without even noticing, his hand wrapping around his cock as he pictures the other side of that fantasy.

It doesn’t take long before he's releasing, spilling all over his hand in tandem with the video. She takes a moment to relax, steadying out her breathing before she speaks to the camera again.

“I think I have a crush guys” she gasps out, “I moved, and I think I’ve got a crush on my fuckin’ neighbor already”

Not that he needed any more confirmation, but those words hit him like a fucking train.

It’s already midnight, it’s not so late that he couldn’t go over there, but it sort of is late enough that he shouldn’t. He really can’t bring himself to care though, getting out of bed and cleaning himself up he decides to ride this uncharacteristically confident wave as far as it’ll take him.

He’s knocking on her door before he’s had a chance to second guess himself. When she answers she’s in a little robe, it’s ivory and satin, and he recognizes it too. He doesn’t say anything, neither does she. They just look at each other for a little too long, eyes taking each other in. He wants to lean in and kiss her, just like in her fantasy, but he’s not that guy.

“Hi” he breathes out instead, “I know it’s late, sorry, I shouldn’t be here—but I— I just wanna say” he pauses to take in a labored breath, “I like you a lot and I think you’re really pretty and funny and smart and would you wanna go out sometime? With me? Maybe?” he doesn't realize he’s closed this eyes until he’s got to pry them back open.

“Well that’s not how the fantasy was supposed to go” she giggles, her eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at him and the blush that’s steadily spreading up his face and neck.

“What do you— I don’t— what?” he’s stammering, doing a god awful job of playing dumb.

“In my video, you were just supposed to kiss me. This isn’t as sexy but it is a hell of a lot better”

“I don’t— I’m not—” he can’t get a sentence out, he’s got no idea what’s happening right now.

“It’s alright Dr. 187, I know it’s you” some part of him genuinely wants to throw up. Why did he think that would be an innocuous username. He was the stupidest genius alive.

“I’m sorry, I should've told you. I had no idea how, I just never thought— how could I have known you’d move in next door to me? And that you’d be even prettier in person but you’d be so cool too” he’s got to cut himself off before he really starts apologetically rambling.

“Spencer stop. It’s fine. I make that content for people to enjoy, you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. I made that video because I wanted you to see it, that was intentional.” she reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, and it’s more comforting than it has any right to be.

“Was that—your fantasy—the uh the video—were you telling the truth?” he can feel his heart absolutely racing in his chest as he waits for the answer. And she breaks out in a huge smile, nodding up at him.

“Every word.” he doesn’t let himself overthink it this time, he just leans right in, pressing his lips to hers. It’s soft and gentle, a sweet kiss rather than a heated one, it’s not just infatuation, there are feelings behind it now. He can feel her lips smiling against his own and his heart’s fit to burst now.

When they break apart she looks giddy with excitement, her hands come down to the little bow that holds her robe closed, toying with the ends of the tie. “I’m actually about to make a video now if you’d like to see behind the scenes?” she asks and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

“Fuck” he rasps, “You’ve got no idea how much I want to do that” he pauses, scolding himself in his head already, “But I think I wanna take you to dinner first, if you still want that?”

She’s grinning at him again, “I still really want that, tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night.”

-- --

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strange-lace · 3 years

Text

Macaque

I was in the mood to make more content for Inverted AU, so here’s a short-ish fic of how episode 9 would go in this AU with Macaque, Wukong, and MK! Enjoy the shadowpeach!

Another demon defeated but still no sign of Sun Wukong. Macaque let out a sigh before rolling his shoulders to bring relief to tense muscles. Oh well, he'll just have to keep looking, not like he hasn't been at it for years now. At least this city he wandered to was quite nice with pleasant people, nothing too out there aside from demon attacks.

"Hey! Hey you! Shadow monkey man!" Macaque wouldn't deny that the sudden voice made him jump, considering he was on top of a pretty tall building. Apparently not tall enough to stop the young man from climbing up the side, somewhat out of breath yet that didn't deter from the determined look on his face. He simply brushed his messy hair out of his eyes and adjusted his teal backpack, which looked surprisingly heavy. Macaque couldn’t help but be somewhat curious as to what was in that thing.

Wait was that the Monkey King's staff in his hands?

Indeed it was, he'd recognize that weapon anywhere.

“Ah, you must be the Monkie Kid I’ve been hearing so much about, am I right?” That got him a look of suspicion before the young man also seemed to remember the staff in his hands, causing him to let out an amused huff at his own paranoia.

“Yeah, the staff kind of gives it away, don’t it? Name’s MK though. Now whomst is you? Most of the time, demons who ask me who I am are five seconds away from trying to kill me.” Macaque couldn’t help but chuckle at that, already finding that he was starting to like this little guy and his attitude. Perhaps if a person like MK was chosen to wield Wukong’s staff, then perhaps that meant his love had finally started turning things around for the better. Maybe it meant he finally stopped being someone he wasn’t all for the sake of keeping a memory alive.

“The name’s Macaque, though, the Six-Eared Macaque is actually my full name. But what brings you up here exactly bud? I doubt you’d climb up this high just for anybody.” MK’s face showed that he wanted to argue that point out of principle before remembering his purpose for coming up here.

“Simple, teach me.”

Wait what?

“What what?” MK scoffed at the question.

“I want you to teach me to fight, like how you fought that demon back there. I don’t intend on leaving you alone until you do and that is a threat!” Macaque didn’t doubt that he meant it that way and could very easily follow through on that. Sensing he wasn’t going to get out of this, he let out a sigh before giving MK a smile.

“You sure your mentor won’t have a problem with me teaching you?”

“Bold of you to assume Wukong’s disapproval will stop me.”

“Well alright then, I think we’re gonna get along just fine, bud.”

---

“I see what you’re trying to do, you’re afraid of holding back and giving your enemy the opportunity to win. But the first strike isn’t the most important one. Every strike counts. Other people may tell you that patience and focus don’t matter but a fool allows himself to rush without restraint. While you have power inside you, you have to use it carefully. Take the power to defend others, not just destroy those who stand in your way. You’re not a weapon kid, you wield the weapon above all else.”

---

It started with a fairly innocent question from MK after one of their training sessions, him slowly going through a water bottle given to him by Macaque while the monkey made them something to eat. He needed a distraction to stop himself from taking over the cooking, years of feeding others making him feel guilt the moment someone else took over.

“So Mac, how exactly do you know the Monkey King?” To his credit, Macaque only fumbled the slightest bit at that sudden question and was able to save the plate before it crashed to the floor.

“Oh um well… funny thing about that is, well… we used to be together actually. Like y’know… together-together,” he explained while he plated their food, wincing internally at how awkward he sounded. With his back towards MK, Macaque didn’t notice him go tense and grip the couch arm so tightly that the wood underneath cracked at the pressure.

“Used to be together, huh? What happened?” Macaque couldn’t help but shiver at the chill which traveled down his spine. MK’s voice was perfectly even and calm yet he was filled with an overwhelming fear that warned him to not turn around and remain perfectly still until the danger passed.

His ears twitched at the sound of sparks behind him, magic power permeating through the air.

“I… I messed up honestly. We had an argument about something, I don’t even remember what it was so long ago. But I had to leave to just get some space and air before I said something I’d regret, something I couldn’t take back. It was only meant to be a couple hours but some stuff out of my control happened and by the time I got back… Wukong was gone. I had been looking for him for centuries after that and then… well then you found me.”

“What, you hoped getting on my good side would mean that you’d win the Monkey King back?” His tone promised nothing good if Macaque kept digging himself a deeper hole.

“No! No, nothing like that at all. I don’t expect Pe-...Wukong to take me back or anything like that. I just… wanted the chance to apologize to him is all. If he wants anything to do with me afterwards, then I want that to be his choice. Nothing more, I swear.”

MK remained silent behind him before the sudden tension in the air dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Macaque let out a sigh of relief, slowly turning around to see MK still sitting on his couch, placing the staff back in his ear nonchalantly.

“Fair enough, sounds like you both were just idiots who don’t know how to communicate. If you actually intended on using me to get to the Monkey King, you’d have actually mentioned him during our training and yet you haven’t. And you can’t lie to save your life anyway. Just don’t be an idiot again alright? Monkey King… Wukong, he’s a mess and I don’t think he could handle thinking he’s been abandoned again.”

Macaque could feel his heart break at the idea that his Peaches, his love, thought that he had left permanently. He wanted nothing more than to run to him now and make things right. But that was Wukong’s decision to make, nobody else’s.

The two ate their food in silence after that.

---

Sun Wukong may have supposedly “lost his edge” but he was by no means dense or oblivious.

And while he was certainly happy about his successor’s vast improvement over the past couple weeks, a part of him sensed something was off. Like his successor was hiding something from him. And those moves he watched MK use to absolutely demolish the old mural, the Monkey King swore he had seen them before.

But it couldn’t possibly be. He hadn’t seen him in centuries. Not since he… left, like everyone else.

“I’m impressed, my boy! Tell me, how did you do that? Have you been seeing another mentor perhaps?” Wukong asked, his typically serene smile straining the slightest bit at the idea of his son student learning from someone who wasn’t him. The sensible part of his brain was gently poking at him, reminding him that it seemed silly to get upset about such a thing as, if anything, MK had appeared significantly calmer during their training compared to when they started. This could be a good thing, it told him.

Yet it was silenced by the majority of his brain which ran on fatherly protectiveness and had immediately been plagued by images of the worst case scenario. A demon had approached MK, promising him to make him stronger while also poisoning his student as a bid to turn him against the Monkey King before stealing his powers or, Heavens forbid, harming him.

No, Wukong refused to even allow a chance of that happening, logic and reasoning be damned.

“Hey, you’re the one always going on about ‘patience and focus’, I’m just finally putting what you said into practice,” MK answered, the picture of being casual which only set off further alarm bells within Wukong’s head. But before he could question him further, MK’s phone dinged to tell him of a new text message which he quickly read over, his eyes widening slightly at the message.

“Welp, looks like I gotta cut things short for now Wukong, something came up and I gotta head out. See ya later! Don’t forget to eat something tonight and sleep, I will know if you don’t.” And with that, MK was off through the hole he had created in the wall where the mural was before the Monkey King could get a word in edgewise.

Wukong waited long enough to allow MK to get a reasonable distance away before transforming into a bird, flying after his successor.

Something fishy was going on and the Monkey King was determined to find out what it was.

---

“Why exactly are we climbing up to this giant mountain again Mac?” MK wheezed, hating to admit it but this hike had genuinely winded him despite all his training. He had immediately gone to Macaque’s place the moment he got his text only to be told to follow the six-eared demon, leading them to where they were now.

“Well, consider this your ‘final exam’ bud! I want you to use everything I’ve taught you to fight against me, no holding back. Think you can do that?” MK couldn’t help the twitch at the corners of his mouth at the sight of Macaque’s genuine excitement as he explained, all six ears twitching while his tail was wagging like a dog. A demon who was centuries old and had fought countless powerful demons had no right looking that endearing, but here MK was looking with his own two eyes.

MK gave a chuckle before straightening himself out, wordlessly pulling the staff out his ear.

“You sure you’re comfortable getting your ass kicked by me, Mac?” With a smirk, Macaque summoned his own weapon in a flash of purple with the beginning of two shadow clones pooling at his feet. They shyly peeked from the ground from behind their master.

“Oho, a couple training sessions with me for a month and you think you have what it takes to defeat me, bud? Well then, bring it Monkie Kid!” MK didn’t hesitate to charge forward with Macaque mirroring him, weapons at the ready and adrenaline already running through their veins.

“Enough!”

A sudden force landed in between them with enough force to send them both flying backwards.

MK and Macaque recovered in time to see who decided to interrupt their duel.

Both of their hearts nearly stopped at the sight of the enraged Monkey King but for vastly different reasons.

“You have 5 seconds to explain yourself for trying to harm my-” Wukong’s rage quickly deflated as the dust cleared enough for him to truly see who it was he had thought was attacking MK. “Mango Flower?”

“Um… hello again, Peach Blossom. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Macaque joked, voice weak as he restrained himself from acting out of bounds even if he wanted nothing more than to gather the other into his arms. It had been so long, far too long.

He nearly broke at the sight of tears beginning to form in Wukong’s eyes.

His resolve finally shattered as the Monkey King ran towards him, arms outstretched, and before Macaque knew it his legs were moving on their own. The wind was knocked out of him at how tight Wukong squeezed him yet he returned the embrace back with gusto, ignoring the groaning of his ribs. He simply buried his face into the other’s fur, the smell of peaches still there even after all these years. Faintly, Macaque realized he was also crying once he felt a wetness on his cheeks.

Macaque let out a squeak in surprise as Wukong picked him up in the hug and spun him around, the sound of his laughter echoing throughout the mountain. The sight of such unabashed joy on his face was enough to make the six-eared demon to start laughing too, joy contagious in the best of ways.

MK would deny it unless under the threat of death but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two monkeys get lost in their own little world. It made the guilt which nagged at his chest at having to manipulate the two to make this meeting happen ease up, seeing how happy the two were.

“It’s been so long…” Wukong whispered as he placed Macaque back on his feet, gently cradling his face as if afraid that if he stopped touching the other, that he’d disappear again. “But, why are you here? I had thought that you hated me, isn’t that why you…” Macaque went stiff in shock before taking the Monkey King’s hands into his own.

“What? No! If anything, I thought you hated me for leaving instead of talking things out and that’s why you were gone when I came back. I always intended on coming back to you Peaches, I swear on it.” Wukong’s eyes went wide at that, extremely close to crying again a second time that day. “I had been looking for you for centuries now to apologize.”

And now the warm feeling was gone, leaving MK to bite down on his staff to stop himself from screaming at how much those two had failed at the simple of communication.

“We’ve both been absolutely foolish, haven’t we?” Wukong couldn’t help but laugh at it all, which only worsened as he noticed all six of Macaque’s ears turn red in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I guess we have been-” His words were cut off as the Monkey King grabbed his scarf, pulling him into a sudden kiss that made Macaque jolt in surprise before he practically melted into the other’s arms. A purr rumbled in his chest and neither noticed their tails wind around each other.

The sound of MK clearing his throat, loudly, was enough to get them to break apart in embarrassment.

“If you two are done being romantic idiots, I have to beat the shit out of Macaque to prove that I’m better than him. I mean ace my ‘final exam’.” The grin on his face showed that he was lying through his teeth.

“Don’t think I forgot about all your trash talking, young man. How about it Peach Blossom? You willing to go all out with me and the kid?”

Wukong’s face was the epitome of ‘Every part of my body wants to say yes but I shouldn’t.’ He was already terrible at saying no to MK and now with Macaque’s endearingly earnest face, he knew he was done for, at least with these two working together now.

“...Oh alright.”

The two mutual cheers at his agreement made Wukong feel slightly less guilty in letting his lessons go for a brief moment. But not completely.

But that was okay, Wukong was used to living with constant guilt.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #inverted au #shadowpeach #mk #macaque #sun wukong #my writing #fanfiction

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

final sleigh drabble #1

❛ a few hours later...❜

original oneshot here // drabble index here

kim seokjin x reader smut, comedy 8,156 words (🥴)

Rushing to the door as you heard the low knock against the wood, you took a few deep breaths before yanking it open, knowing what was about to happen once Seokjin stepped inside.

He smiled as you came into view, a tiny one that seemed to round his cheeks something crazy. Something inside you went a little gooey. He was dressed in a thin black sweater that hugged his body, a basic silver chain hanging around the neckline. You were half expecting him to turn up in another one of his Christmas jumpers — the one he had been wearing earlier was still embedded inside your brain, but mainly because of what you’d been doing... Seven hours ago you’d thrown caution to the wind and participated in something that could 1000% get you fired. Although... It had been your idea, so.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, feeling momentarily a little awkward. This was no innocent visit after all. He was here to have sex with you. Please, he’d begged. Let me fuck you. The memory of his words were enough to tinge your cheeks a darker shade.

“Hey,” he greeted, taking the first step inside. For a brief second his face appeared not so far from yours and you wondered if he was about to kiss you. You had kissed with abandon earlier on in the day after all. But instead, his lips flickered up into a smirk. He was amused as he spoke. “Pizza guy just pulled up too.”

“Oh.” It took a moment for your brain to process what he was telling you. “Let me grab my purse.”

You toddled off, into your living room and through to the kitchen, leaving him by the open door. Jerk, you thought, realising he’d been messing with you, or at least, that’s what you thought. Who knew, and you weren’t about to ask him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

When you got back to your entryway Seokjin had his wallet out in front of the pizza delivery guy, fishing for bills. “What are you doing?” You demanded.

Seokjin shrugged. “I’ll pay, it’s no big deal.”

“No way.” You thrust inside your purse, eager to beat him.

“Y/N.” It sounded as if he was half warning you, voice low.

“It was my idea, I’m paying.”

Inviting him over just for sex seemed a little... crude, for lack of a better word, so suggesting pizza helped soften the intent – in your eyes.

Seokjin looked at you incredulously and when he realised you weren’t going to give in, he sighed loudly. “Let’s go dutch then, I am eating half after all.”

“Fine.” You weren’t happy about it, but fine.

You both handed your cash to the delivery guy who had watched the whole exchange wordlessly. You took the boxes from him and waited as he counted out your change.

“Here,” he said, reaching his hand out to pass it to Seokjin, who shook his head.

“She can have it.”

The guy changed direction, holding his arm out as he waited for you to take it (hands full, mind you...).

“No, you can have it,” you told Seokjin.

He turned his head, dismissing you. “I don’t want it.”

You choked out a noise of frustration. However “gooey” you’d been feeling five minutes ago had well and truly disappeared now. Nothing had changed, despite what had happened earlier, he was still an annoying ass when he wanted to be.

“Can someone just take it?” The delivery guy exclaimed, causing you to startle. “I have five other pizzas getting cold.”

“Fine,” you hissed, displeased by his attitude. Yes, okay, you were wasting his time but no need to be so rude about it. “Put it on the box.” You glanced at Seokjin, seeing him try to hold back his laughter. That just annoyed you more.

“Wash your hands,” you ordered him as soon as the mannerless delivery guy left.

He slipped his sneakers off and followed you into the kitchen, stopping halfway as you dropped the pizza boxes onto your coffee table. He washed his hands in silence, absentmindedly looking around the room, as if he was getting familiar with the place again, and then it dawned on you; he’d been here before. Last weekend, after your drunken make out session that had resulted in him packing you off to bed with a glass of water... Your memories were still hazy, but it was something.

As you washed your hands too, you noticed Seokjin watching down at you with a smile that had you feeling a little uneasy. “What?”

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, but his eyes twinkled more than usual, the last syllable bubbling in his throat as he held back another laugh.

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him something. You didn’t know what, maybe to shut up? But then he shifted, moving in one swift motion to lean in and kiss you.

You made a small shocked noise as he pressed his lips against yours, eyes wide open even though his were fluttered closed, but soon enough you relaxed, settling into his touch as he cupped your hips, yours reaching to grip under his elbows.

He pulled back suddenly, grinning. “This is the best. All I have to do is kiss you and you shut up.”

Huh? “You can’t weaponise kissing, Seokjin,” you scowled.

“Wanna bet?” And he was on you once more, you, miraculously quiet again. His mouth was a little more eager now, presses harder as your lips glided together, and your mind was quickly becoming cloudy. Kissing Seokjin was a little addictive. You couldn’t hate it even if you tried.

“Mhm.” He groaned a little against you, sending your lips tingling. “I swear I just experienced the slowest 3 hours of my life.”

You had to agree. From half 5 to now, you’d been practically counting down the minutes.

“Actually,” he added as an afterthought. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since we had to stop.”

You couldn’t help but smile, fingers lifting to play with the chain around his neck. Since when did he accessorise, and why was it so hot?

“Well, you’re here now,” you said, your voice a little softer than you’d expected it to be, but whatever, Seokjin wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss him. You’d leave it slide.

“Come,” he jerked his head in the direction of your living room, taking your hands in his. “Pizza first, you’ll need your energy.”

The wink he gave you was completely uncalled for. Your legs instantly felt a little shaky.

You spent maybe an hour eating and chatting a little. It was a little strange to be having a proper conversation with Seokjin, in light of what you both had been this past six months, but when you thought about it, you’d shared numerous conversations ever since you’d began the Christmas party planning, so it wasn’t too bizarre. Actually, it was nice. You felt less nervous about the obvious direction tonight would soon go.

You scrolled Netflix, choosing Brooklyn Nine-Nine as background noise as you were in the middle of binging the series and it was something light and funny to fill the sometimes small silences that fell between you. Only, Seokjin informed you he’d already watched all available seasons three times and that meant he could recite any given episode on cue. It was slightly endearing watching him go, if not mildly annoying too, but whatever, he was enjoying himself.

You didn’t know who started kissing who soon enough, it might very well have been you. One minute you were sneaking looks his way, checking out his biceps in that sinful sweater and the next you were wrapped up against his body, tongues furiously crashing together. The line had been crossed once again, only this time things were leading somewhere even more exciting.

You were ready for this. You’d showered before he’d arrived, made sure there were no stray hairs poking out of random places on your body – because this afternoon had taken you by surprise, but now you were prepared. You had your sexiest lingerie on, a black lace two piece that you hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. It seemed to show more skin than cover it, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You’d even painted your god damn toenails. You wanted to knock his proverbial socks off.

Your phone was on silent, no room for interruptions no matter whose house was on fire. Ana had already been informed of your dick appointment, and while her first instinct had been to gloat, you’d stopped her right in her tracks. You didn’t want to hear it and you didn’t want to hear from her tonight, because she often liked to call you when she was bored – very often.

Tonight you were going to get laid and nothing was going to get in your way. It had been a long six months, and yes, it was sex with Seokjin, but honestly, that just made it better. You thought back to this afternoon, how good it had felt to be touched by him and how hard he’d made you cum. You didn’t want to jinx things, but you had very high hopes for tonight...

“This afternoon feels like a dream,” he confessed against your mouth, taking the moment to pull you onto his lap, his hands snaking their way down to ass to give it a firm squeeze, rolling you into his crotch.

You let out a throaty groan, mouth open, giving him perfect access to lick into it, stealing your tongue to suck the muscle gently. You clutched tightly to the nape of his neck, catching some of the small hairs and he moaned. You were under the impression Seokjin liked having his hair tugged...

“It definitely happened,” you grinned as he pulled away, and you took the opportunity to nibble on his plump bottom lip.

“I don’t know, you’re going to have to remind me...” He gave a throaty chuckle, nudging his hips and you felt the very obvious bulge in his jeans.

“What do you think I’m doing right now?” You laughed at a sudden memory, placing your hands on Seokjin’s chest to ease up. “No one had a clue.”

He held your wrists, keeping you to him as he laughed along. “Not even Jungkook. He was so oblivious.”

“Even with the lame excuse with the cake.”

“Hey,” he whined, “in my defence, I panicked.”

Humming, you leaned in to press against his lips, pulling back before he could part them. “Yeah, we probably should’ve thought of a reason beforehand.” Terrible lack of judgement on your part.

“Do you think?” Seokjin asked rhetorically, impatient as he lunged to kiss you, clasping your arms tight to your side to keep you still until they strayed, caressing your sides, ghosting the sides of your breasts. Your skin felt electric, despite the layers that blocked his touch.

You squealed as he gripped your hips, finding your back flush with the sofa cushions in an instant. Seokjin liked to throw his strength around a lot too it seemed. Not that you were complaining, it was hot, and you spread your legs, letting him nestle between them as his mouth found yours again. You clutched at his shoulders, gasping into the kiss from the sheer want you were feeling.

“Been waiting so long to get my hands on this body,” he grunted against you; leaving you wondering if he meant all day, or longer? The way he was tugging at your mouth with his made you want to believe it was the latter... Ridiculous, but maybe...

Hands riding up your shirt as you moaned in agreement, he made goosebumps appear against your stomach, his fingers glided along the hot skin, and then, suddenly, they were on the buttons of your jeans, fiddling in haste.

Anything more was wasting time, and your stomach leaped with anticipation, knowing you didn’t need to wait much longer. Soon he’d be fucking you. You were beside yourself.

An exasperated sigh stole your attention and you felt Seokjin move, kneeling between your legs, sofa cushions dipping with the weight as he yanked at the waistband of your jeans, a groan leaving him now.

“Why do you insist on wearing sex proof clothing?”

You used your elbows to sit up a little, narrowing your eyes at his dramatics. “They’re jeans, Seokjin. Hardly difficult to take off.” Yes, admittedly there were a few more buttons than usual but they were simple to undo. You reached down, swatting his hands out the way to unfasten them. “There. See.”

You watched his bottom lip stick out slightly, his voice small and annoyed as he spoke. “I wanted to do that.”

“Shut up,” you scoffed lightly, grabbing his arms to tug him back to you. You went to kiss him but he was moving you again, hooking his hands around you waist to prop you up.

His mouth found the crook of your neck, half pinning you to the sofa as his right hand slipped into your jeans, and you moaned when the pads of his fingers found your clit above your underwear, rubbing you firmly a few times before he slid down to your opening, feeling and hearing how wet you’d already become. It had soaked through your panties no issue at all.

Seokjin let out a tight grunt as he felt it, lifting his hand to bypass the lace and feel you for real. It was pretty restricted down there, your jeans still snug around your hips but he made it work, rubbing your whole mound, spreading your arousal.

“I can’t believe I’m going to fuck you...” He murmured, although his voice wasn’t particularly soft, more thick with lust. He was sucking on your earlobe, working out you liked that very much by now and you struggled to gain your bearings. “Be inside you...”

“Mhmm,” you moaned in agreement, the noise breaking in half when you felt him insert a finger inside of you.

Again, room was tight and even though he couldn’t finger you like he wanted he still made it feel amazing – or probably you were just too far gone now. Everything he was doing was driving you wild. You dragged your hands up and down his torso, clinging onto any muscle you came across.

“I swear you haven’t felt nothing yet,” he informed you, mouth tight to your jaw and your moans turned into mild tugs for breath if anything, your head falling back against the edge of the sofa. “Jiin–“

He paused his kisses, his hand following suit trapped in your underwear. “Jin?” He repeated, tilting his head back to meet your eyes, his left eyebrow ever so slightly lifting. “Why did you call me that?”

What was he going on about? You were hot and desperate and here he was suddenly questioning you. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

He looked mildly concerned. “You’ve never called me that before.”

You breathed out a confused laugh. “Am I not allowed? Everyone else calls you it.”

His expression grew softer, sincerity pooling in his words. “You’re not everyone else though. I love it when you call me Seokjin.”

You had to admit you were a little speechless. You knew in the past you’d never used the shortened version of his name because you refused to be friendly with him like everyone else. ‘Seokjin’ held a distance between you, or so you’d thought... In reality it had become something special between you both...

“Fine,” you whispered, pushing your hips into his hand as you moaned lightly, catching his eyes. “Seokjiin.”

He found that funny – you both did, laughing together before you lifted a hand to play with his necklace, giving him a small smile. “Wanna go to my room now?”

You lead him by the hand all the way and he followed you eagerly, eyes hungry. You switched on the lamp by your bed, and safe inside your room he got a little distracted, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar setting, as if he was soaking it all in, but that only lasted for a little while, something, or someone, far more interesting needing his attention. His gaze found you stood at the foot of your bed.

You followed the hand that tugged at his crotch and noticed the now incredibly visible tent inside his jeans. Your gut lurched as he strode towards you. “Come here,” he breathed, reaching for you, and just like that his lips were on yours again. Somehow you ended up in his arms again, his hands firmly cupping your ass as you clung on, moaning into his mouth as your enjoyment started to reach breaking point.

You squealed out his name when you felt him lift his knees to the bed, dropping you down to cage you under his body.

“I got you. Relax,” he chuckled, finding your reaction amusing as you squeezed your fingers into his biceps. A low noise emitted from his throat as he nosed at your neck, mumbling into your skin, “I love feeling you touch me.”

Your heartbeat skyrocketed, sure he could feel your pulse against his lips and you moaned a little too loudly when you felt his teeth bite down on the flesh, continuing his descent down to your collarbones and chest before it became too much and began to tickle you.

“You’re really finding that ticklish?” He asked curiously, lifting his head to catch a look at your face.

You nodded, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you stroked down his arms, a little pleased now that you knew it drove him crazy.

He smirked down at you, his eyes near black. It totally altered his face – his whole demeanour actually. “Do you like a little pain, Y/N?”

He had to see the mild shock on his face, but you quickly composed yourself. Where had that come from? His mouth seemed to run wild when he was turned on, if the storage room was anything to go by, and you found yourself enjoying it immensely. You hooked your hands around his neck as you sat up and he eased away, kneeling straighter. Your teeth reached to nip his bottom lip. “Depends on what kind,” you purred as he hissed at the sensation.

He watched you lean back, never taking his eyes off you as you removed your arms from his neck to pull your shirt over your head. Immediately he stood up, his sweater gone in one swift motion as he dropped it at his feet. You soaked in the view, his torso toned, chest firm. The silver chain hung around his neck, patches of skin flush, revealing his evident arousal.

He tilted his head and smirked. “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes. “Cocky much?” But yes, yes you did.

He snorted, laughing pretty loudly as he knelt back on the mattress. “I’m just messing around.”

You couldn’t help but touch him, your hands travelling up his body and across his chest as he crawled over you. He grunted as your lips met and you kissed one another hungrily, more eager now than ever. His hands grazed the cups of your bra and no more than a few moments later he was on one breast, licking and sucking at your nipple, quickly soaking the lace. You moaned loudly, the sensation sending you partially shaky until you had to hold the back of his head, rooting yourself in fear of falling backwards.

His left hand travelled around your back, fingers fumbling with the strap of your bra. “Can I?” He asked, and you strained out a yes.

He broke away from your nipple as he used his other hand to help hook you free. The straps fell lose against your arms and he tugged at the middle of your bra to remove it entirely. His eyes ate you up before cupping the soft flesh in his palms, jaw slack as he flicked his eyes up to yours.

“You have the prettiest tits.”

Slightly abashed by his words but turned on by the way his thumbs rubbed circles against your sensitive nipples, you found yourself chuckling. “That’s good to know.”

“No, really,” he half-awed, reaching to kiss you again. “You’re just... perfect.”

He sounded so sincere it shocked you, made you unsure what to respond. Not that you could anyway, his tongue down your throat again, his body pressed against yours as your urge for him continued to grow.

You were thankful when you felt his hands tug at the waistband of your jeans. “I need to get you fucking naked,” he muttered against your shoulder. You were unable to keep track of his mouth, he was kissing every inch of bare skin he found.

You lifted your ass off the bed, helping him shimmy the fabric down and over your ass before they became jammed at your thighs. Okay, maybe skinny jeans had been a bad idea... He got them down to your knees with quite a struggle, leaning back to yank them off the rest of the way. He nearly fell backwards with the force, irritated eyes finding yours. “I swear to God, you don’t want me to fuck you.”

You tried your best not to laugh, he was putting way too much effort into a simple(ish) task, if he carried on like this you’d have no other option than to think he was incapable at stripping women. Instead, now that you were finally free of your jeans, you spread your thighs, revealing your barely there panties.

“Really?” You cocked an eyebrow. You were now more aroused than ever, the delicate fabric stuck damp to your sex, and Seokjin’s eyes immediately wondered to the sight you’d put on display, his eyes glazing over slightly, darkening with lust.

He stood from the bed suddenly, unzipping his own jeans to remove them too, throwing them to the side with haste. You could easily see the curve of his impressive erection in those tight black boxer shorts and as he crawled back to you, you couldn’t help but cup him, tracing your fingers across the thick length before rubbing him, feeling him push into your touch and groan as his lips pressed into yours.

You pulsed when you felt his hand cup your mound, knowing he could feel the heat that radiated from it instantly. He pinched at the sticky fabric, pulling it back and snapping it against you. Annoyingly, he didn’t seem to take much interest in the underwear as you’d hoped, more concerned about what was underneath, so near enough immediately, he had them gone – successfully this time. His gaze travelled to your nakedness, soaking in the view before he traced the outline of your folds with his fingertips. “You’re literally fucking naked in front of me,” he awed, never once taking his eyes off you.

He had to feel you pulsing beneath him, eager for something more, but he didn’t give you it. “I didn’t think being this wet was possible,” he whispered smugly, eyes flicking over to your face.

You grumbled, although probably more frustrated he was teasing you than by his words. “Stop trying to inflate your ego.”

He chuckled, shifting closer, and then suddenly there was a finger inside you. You sucked in a breath, no time to get accustomed to the sensation as he began fingering you, curling and pressing the long digit against your velvety walls. “Fuck. Seokjin!”

He grinned wolfishly down at you, strands of hair falling into his eyes, but you could still see them twinkling with mirth. “Found another way to shut you up.”

You would’ve scowled if your mouth wasn’t too busy moaning. He was not going to weaponise fingering too...

His actions sped up as he slipped a second digit into you, straightening them as he fucked you with them, sending you splayed out on the mattress as he knelt between your legs. You should’ve maybe felt self-conscious by now, but the pleasure coursing through your body was too distracting. Plus, the way Seokjin watched you, eyes hungrily staring at your breasts jiggling with each snap of his wrist, had you basking in the attention.

You were shocked to find out how close to coming you had been when he abruptly pulled out of you, your body on a come down as shaky breaths wracked throughout you. His mouth was on yours immediately, kissing you messily, shallow breathing. His voice shook as he spoke. “Fuck. I can’t think straight.”

He kneeled up, looking between your legs again as he vigorously rubbed at his dick. “Let me eat you out again.”

He went to dive in, but you stopped him, placing your hands on his shoulders as you sat up. “Wait, you’ve already done that.” As much as you’d loved it and wouldn’t mind a repeat, what was the point in waiting? He was obviously as desperate for you as you were for him. There was no point dragging it out, anymore would just be considered teasing.

You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, running your hand down his chest. He was a little sweaty and you loved it. “Just fuck me. I want to feel you already.”

He looked down at your hand, fingers now toying with the waistband of his underwear and swallowed. “Yeah... Yeah, good idea.”

Standing on the floor, he looked around for his jeans, spotting them near the left side of your bed. You shuffled closer, reaching out to grab his elbow and stop him in his tracks. “Take those off first, I want to get a good look at your ass,” you prompted, gesturing to his underwear.

He looked a little surprised by your request, but listened, giving you somewhat of a bemused smirk as he stripped himself of his boxers. He turned slightly, protecting the fullness of his butt as he reached down for his jeans, but you were more than satisfied with the curve of the flesh you saw. Seokjin always did have a nice looking ass in his work pants – not that you’d been staring, of course...

“I feel like a piece of meat,” he told you, eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, foil packet between his fingers.

“A tasty piece of meat,” you corrected, feeling excited when he sat down on the side of the bed and dropped the condom beside your bodies. You were literally a couple of minutes away from having him inside you, and you quite honestly couldn’t contain yourself.

Crawling into his lap, you hooking your arms around his neck, feeling his wrap around your waist, his cock bouncing slightly against your inner thigh. Pulling you closer he pressed his mouth into yours, his grip firm, kiss passionate. A hand travelled down to your ass, another cupping one breast and he moaned loudly as he pulled away from your lips. “God. I love your body so much.”

You smirked, very much appreciating the praise and as if your body couldn’t help it, you pressed your hips into him, rubbing against his thigh partially.

“You really like to grind,” he commented, looking down between your bodies and that’s when you couldn’t take it any longer, reaching down to wrap your hand around his dick. His hips jumped at the sensation, and you couldn’t help but run your fist up and down the length, feeling the hot, ridged flesh pulse against your grasp.

Condom back between his fingers, you watched him start to tear it open, rushed slightly, his hips absentmindedly jutting up into your hand. Randomly, your eyes caught the writing on the gold square and instantly your mouth became dry.

“What?” Seokjin asked, pausing his movements as he noticed something was wrong. Did your face give it away?

“N-nothing,” you stuttered, tearing your gaze away from the bolded King Size to look down at your hand. Seokjin’s dick almost taunted you. You hadn’t really paid attention to it properly since he’d gotten naked, forgetting the shock you’d felt earlier on in the day when faced with the massive task. Your mouth had accustomed well, but your vagina?! You were getting reservations...

“You really do have a fucking massive dick.”

Seokjin chuckled, angling his head low to kiss your mouth. He knew you’d noticed the text on the condom packet now. “You’ll make him go shy with all these compliments.”

He lifted you in one smooth motion and you found yourself spread on your back, head on the pillow as he hovered over you, sliding the condom on. He held his cock in his hand as he dropped to his knees, tugging it a couple of time just to make sure all was secure and then he leaned in to place a kiss on your shoulder. “Can’t wait to be inside you,” he murmured, rubbing the head if his cock against your sex. You could hear the noise of the latex and you clenched unconsciously, now nervous. “Hm?” He prompted, waiting for a likeminded reply. When you didn’t give him one he lifted his head to look at you, looking a little concerned. “What is it?”

You wrapped your arms around his middle, feeling comforted by the heat of his body and the softness of his skin. It was funny, you didn’t feel embarrassed to confide in him right now, to ask for reassurance. There had been a time, even as far as quite recently, when you had not for even one second wanted to look scared, worried or dumb in front of him. Now that seemed kind of silly...

“You will fit, right?”

“Of course I’ll fit,” he laughed, looking instantly relieved. Had he been expecting something bad?

“You better. I don’t want you breaking my vagina in two.” You warned, chest feeling a little lighter, enough to joke around with him.

“You’re acting like it’s dangling above my knee or some shit.” He repositioned himself, easing his dick away from your heat as he rolled his eyes playfully. The action touched you. Even though he was teasing you, he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable...

Ever so gently, he rubbed the inside of your thigh, his way of reassuring you while also helping you relax. Were you that tense under him? You keened into his touched, loving the way he made you feel.

“You been fucking men with tiny cocks this whole time?” He joked, making you scoff out a small laugh.

“No, just not that... big.”

You expected him to make another joke, something about stroking his ego, but instead he leaned in to kiss you, his hand rubbing circles on your hip now. “I’ll go slow. Don’t be worried,” he reassured. You bucked into him instinctively when you felt his fingers at your entrance. He slid two fingers inside, moving slowly. “I stretched you out pretty good anyway.” He pressed upwards, causing you to moan. “You’ll take it.”

His words made you tingle all over, something kind of vulgar about them that made you not so anxious now. Pulling out, he ran his fist over his length again and you felt a little sorry for him. You didn’t want to keep him waiting anymore. You didn’t want to wait anymore.

Seokjin caught you watching him and smiled, leaning closer. “Yeah?” He asked your permission.

You nodded, crossing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “Yeah.” He repositioned himself, sitting taller on his knees as he pushed the tip of his cock up against your entrance. You wanted him closer, reaching for him as you murmured, “Kiss me.”

He listened immediately, moving over your body to meet your lips. He started to push inside, carefully, an inch or so at a time. “Fuck,” he mumbled, as your warmth continued to surround him. “You feel amazing.”

You moaned out in agreement, the stretch nothing but pleasurable as he sunk a little further. You went to look between your bodies, curious.

“No, don’t look down.” He stopped you, kissing your mouth over and over again, distracting you successfully. “Not yet. Wait until I’m fully inside.”

You didn’t know why he was so adamant. Maybe he didn’t want you to potentially freak out and see him pushing that massive ass dick into you, or maybe he just really wanted your first sight to be you stuffed full of him... You moaned at the thought, feeling him push even deeper. God, you loved this feeling.

“Seokjin–!”

His mouth was against your neck now, kissing you softly. “Just a little bit more.” His voice was tight, strained under the increasing pleasure he was feeling, mixed with the urge to delve straight inside.

You planted your feet to the bed, widening your legs just a tad to silently let him know you were more than ready. With one more nudge he slipped all the way in. You knew because you felt his hips press into yours, that and the moan he gave out. “Ngh. Yeah. Shit.”

You looked down, Seokjin’s lips frozen against your shoulder. “Oh, my god,” you whispered, taking in the sight of where your bodies met. You felt incredibly full, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was pleasant. Incredibly pleasant.

“Can’t believe I’m inside you,” he awed next to your ear, and it took you a moment to realise he was staring too.

You cupped his face, sliding your hands around the back of his head to weave your fingers in his hair, grip firm. “Move,” you informed him, needing him to start fucking you immediately before you cried.

He got to work, your hands now travelling the expanse of his back as he rocked his hips into you at a painfully steady pace, the chain on his neck swinging back and forth. His hands were either side of your head on the pillow, his breathing heavy as he cast his gaze down to your eyes. “You literally have the warmest cunt I’ve ever felt.”

Your face heated up immediately, not expecting such an admission and instinctively you dipped your chin. You might’ve really liked it but it was still embarrassing, nonetheless. You heard him chuckle, a hand reaching to cup your cheek, making you look at him again. “What? Not used to guys talking dirty to you?”

“It’s not that.” You shook your head. “I usually don’t like it.” It was true. Nobody had been able to pull it off well in the past, usually feeling cringey and unnatural. But with Seokjin... It made you feel some type of way.

He smirked, although it looked a little strained due to the way he was still thrusting inside you. “That’s because they never did it properly. It’s an art form.”

He was lucky his bragging held up...

You ran your hands down the small of his back, cupping his ass gently as you pushed down with each thrust of his hips. You couldn’t help but moan each time he bottomed out, wriggling under him.

“It feels good, right? Nothing hurts?” He asked, nuzzling his face into the side of yours. You shook your head. “Good.”

With your assurance, he thrust into you hard, causing you to shoot up the bed. You dug your nails into his ass with the shock. “Seokjin—!”

He repeated, slowly pulling out until just the tip of his cock was inside and then slamming back in. “Told you I’ll fit.” He murmured, sliding out again, looking down your body as it shook. “This pussy couldn’t wait for me to fuck it.”

You cried out as he hit deep, even more pleasurable because of his shameless mouth. “Again!” You begged, hands raking up his back now as you attempted to roll your hips into his, but it was no use, he had you pinned down, held prisoner by his dick.

“Patience, baby,” he purred against your ear. “It’s not a race.”

Your breath shook. There it was, that word again. When he was inside you like this, it didn’t sound half as bad.

Despite his comment, he gradually started to speed up, straightening his back to fuck you harder, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you planted, although you couldn’t help but grind your hips into him, chasing more and more. When his fingers brushed over your clit, you fluttered your eyes closed, brows furrowed.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, soft moans leaving your mouth involuntary, enjoying the sensation of him circling your clit.

“Yeah? Gonna cum?” He asked – more like goaded. Your skin prickled, his tone setting you alight. “Gonna cum all over my dick?”

You let out a strangled cry, squeezing around him, your thighs spreading further, desperate to feel him deeper. Grunting, he leaned over your body, snapping his hips harder, his motions against your clit firmer, the pads of all four fingers rubbing tight circles.

“You feel so fucking good.” He groaned. “Tell me how much you love it. Don’t be shy.”

Once again you felt your cheeks heat up, reluctant despite how good he was making you feel.

“Y/N.” He commanded gently, and you slowly found his gaze, jaw slack. “Let me know how you’re feeling. How much you love me fucking you.”

You wanted to. You really wanted to. It was only fair given how much he was praising you too. There was nothing wrong with him wanting you to stroke his ego right now, despite how unaccustomed you were to dirty talking.

“I love it so much,” you moaned. “Please don’t stop. You’re going to make me cum.”

Not that you could label that as dirty talk... You sounded a little awkward, cringing at yourself, but Seokjin seemed to like it, dropping lower to kiss you, grunting into your mouth. You felt encouraged enough to continue. You weaved your fingers in his hair, loving the sound of his panting. “Seokjin, please make me cum. You feel so fucking amazing. I love your dick, don’t stop fucking me.”

His hips stuttered as he processed your words and then he growled, kickstarting them again – much harder. “That’s a dangerous thing to ask, Y/N,” he warned, breaking away from your mouth to stare down at you, expression dark. Each thrust sent your headboard into the wall.

“You want me to keep fucking you even after you cum?”

“Oh, god,” you moaned as he slammed into you, his fingers against your clit unrelenting. “Ye-ss! You can fuck me all night if you like.”

“Don’t,” he whined, his face dropping into the crook of your neck before he growled again, flinging himself up.

Still on his knees between your thighs, he lifted one of your legs up, hooking it casually over his shoulder, fingers on his left hand digging into the meat of your thigh. You spread your other leg, resting it on top of his knee, his right hand holding you flat until he found your clit again, two fingertips stroking it steadily.

Your thighs started to shake, the rest of your body tense as your middle jerked up against his touch. He kept fucking you, stopping each time he was fully inside of you to grind against your insides.

“Seokjin, I want to—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, pleasure too strong. You were so tense your release seemed like it would never come.

“Just let go. Cum.” He told you, his voice tight, neck strained. “Just think of how good I’m making you feel. You’re so wet, I’m sliding everywhere.”

You could hear yourself, squelching with each snap of his hips and circle of his fingers. Suddenly he slapped down with his hand, not especially hard, but it made your body jerk, a cry of surprise leaving you. “Seokjin, fuck.”

He instantly went back to playing with your clit, you pulsed red hot. “You like that, baby?” He purred, voice low, rolling his dick inside you at a deadly rhythm. “You’re such a fucking tease.” He smirked. “Knew you’d be dirty, or do I just bring out that side of you?”

All you could do was moan, the shock of his palm against your core still zapping up your body, your hips moving with his, urging him to keep going because you were so close, teetering over the edge. Pushing his body weight into you, still gripping your leg against his chest, you sunk further into the mattress.

“Just concentrate on how my cock feels.” He helped you along, words flying out of his mouth as you squeezed around his cock tightly. “How my fingers feel. I really want to make you cum.” He groaned loudly, determination in his tone. “Soak me.”

“Fuck.” This was it, you could feel the build-up of your orgasm cresting. “Seokjin, I’m—!” You broke off with a moan as pleasure engulfed you. “Coming. I’m coming.”

Your body stiffened, foot trembling above his shoulder, but Seokjin kept fucking you through the waves that wracked through you, his fingers against your clit easing up slightly, careful not to overstimulate you. Your head was spinning as you started to feel your orgasm gradually wane, warmth flowing through your veins as your limbs started to relax again. You gasped for breath, amazed by what had just happened. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d come like that... if ever.

Seokjin’s hips slowed down, carefully dropping your leg to the bed as he eased up and crawled over you, mouth finding yours, your tongues meshing together sloppily. You wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist and tugged him closer. He was still inside you, not moving, but that soon changed as you started to roll your hips into his. You still wanted him, orgasm only making you hornier, however possible that was.

“I-I can carry on?” He asked thickly, shallowly fucking inside of you now, pace uneven.

“Please,” you murmured against his ear. “I said don’t stop.”

He groaned, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before knocking into you harder, slow but calculated. He felt bigger inside of you, the result of your walls tightening, but you loved it, your fingers playing with the chain at the nape of his neck. The metal was cool, a big difference to his skin which was hot and slick with his sweat.

“Not too hard?” He asked, grunting with each thrust.

You pulled him to you closer, ignoring the way his pelvis rubbed against your core, still a little sensitive. “Fuck me however hard and fast you like.” Running your hands along his muscular back you felt him shiver, a tight whine escaping his lips as your words got to him. You felt pretty chuffed.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Seokjin. You’re so good at this.” You praised, words falling from you naturally and unprompted.

His brain didn’t seem to be functioning anymore, unable to respond to you, the feeling of his impending orgasm too distracting, but he moaned at your words, face falling to your shoulder as he just. Kept. Fucking. You. His thrusts were hard, but not as calculated as before. You could tell by the way he was breathing he was close, his grunts muffled but still audible.

“Gonna–gonna c–”

You could hear that too, feel the way his body stiffened instantly, and he rammed deep inside you, waiting for the first spill of cum. You gripped him tight, loving the way his body shook as he came, and you welcomed each tremor as his cum filled the condom.

“Oh, my fuck,” he gasped, the last surge the strongest, and you suppressed the giggle that wanted to escape your throat. He was pretty speechless, you guessed. “Shit. Fuck. Shit.”

He laid on top of you for a few moments, catching his breath while muttering expletives into your skin. You liked being weighted down by his body, you couldn’t describe it, it just felt good.

“Seokjin?” You questioned, turning your head as much you could to rouse him. His back was all clammy, the hairs against the back of his neck damp with sweat.

He slowly lifted himself up, hands pressing into mattress. “I think my brain just blew to pieces.” Blowing air out of his mouth, he noticed his lips were wet. He brought a hand up to feel. “I fucking dribbled.” He chuckled, wiping himself clean.

“Hot,” you teased, watching him roll off you and remove the soiled condom, tying a knot at the top. He sat up, looking around for your trashcan before spotting one near your closet. It gave you a great view of his ass when he walked over to throw it away.

You rolled onto your side as he came back, joining you on the bed, stretching his arm behind his head as he looked over at you, a smugness to his face. “I don’t want to take all the credit but I’m pretty sure that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

You shrugged casually, trying your best not to smile. “Yeah, I’d rate it like an 8/10.”

“Hey,” he exclaimed incredulously.

“I’m messing around.” You laughed, your hand reaching to play with his necklace, your eyes skimming down his torso. “It was amazing.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, stealing a small kiss.

You nodded. “I kinda want to go again...”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t want me to leave?”

Laughing, you hit his chest playfully. “Did you imagine I’d kick you out straight away or something?”

“No,” he insisted, looking a little embarrassed. “I just... I don’t know.” He looked really happy that wasn’t the case though. As if you’d kick him out after that performance. You were making the most out of tonight…

You laid your head down on the pillow, still looking at him, weirdly uncaring that you were still naked. “You have more condoms on you, right?”

“I came prepared – just in case.” He felt the urge to add, not seeming to care his junk was still out at all. “Do you want to go again right now?”

You chuckled. “Give it a little while. You wore me out.” Although, you’d be highly impressed if he was able to go for round two immediately.

“Sure,” he agreed, folding his other hand behind his head too, Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke. “I could do with a nap.”

A nap definitely sounded good right about now. You tapped his chest, sitting up. “Let me pee first.”

Standing, you grabbed the gown draped over your wicker chair and slipped in on. Not before Seokjin snuck a glance though, groaning to himself and burying his face into the bed as if he couldn’t go on any longer.

“Ugh, your body.”

You woke up to a phone ringing. It sounded like it was coming from the floor because you could hear vibrations against the wood. Seokjin groaned and then slipped from under you, letting your head down gently to rest on the pillow.

Once you’d come back from the bathroom you’d immediately jumped under the covers, feeling it cold now and encouraged Seokjin to follow. You’d cuddled for a little bit, your head on his chest and before long you’d fallen asleep. It couldn’t have been that long ago, and one look at your alarm clock as Seokjin searched for his phone in his jeans, told you it was half past midnight.

“Who was it?” You asked sleepily, hearing it ring off just as he grabbed it.

“Jungkook.”

“Why is he calling so late?”

Seokjin put the phone down on your dresser and got back into bed, wrapping his arms around you. He was still naked, the thought got you a little excited.

“Probably gonna ask if I want to play a game of League.” Video games at this time? What was he, still in high school? You halted your judgement though, settling back against his chest.

“I’ll just pretend I was asleep,” he shrugged.

“You were asleep.”

There was a pause, and then you felt his hand travel to ass, giving it a firm squeeze. You still had your gown on, but it was thin, and you could feel the heat of his palm easily. “I’m awake now,” he murmured. “Are you?”

“I guess so,” you teased, nudging your pelvis into his thigh ever so gently, silently giving him the go ahead.

“I’ll tell Jungkook I was a little preoccupied then...”

You lifted your head, looking unimpressed. “Don’t you dare.”

Laughing loudly, he leaned in to kiss you. “As if he’d believe me.” You weren’t particularly listening though, too busy getting addicted to his mouth again.

You soon found yourself on top of him, his dick hard against your stomach as you made out furiously , his fingers brushing against the lips of your entrance, teasing you.

He pulled his head back, a boyish grin on his face. “Can you ride me this time?”

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:final sleigh #drabbles:final sleigh #final sleigh:drabbles

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

Text

Hawk Fluff Alphabet

Requested by @manicgrungegf

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

What hawk finds most attractive about you is your kindness. You’re literally the sweetest person to everyone you meet and he likes to think that if he knew you when he was Eli, you still would have dated him. You didn’t care about the muscles or the tattoo or the hair. You genuinely loved him and were always kind to him even when he was being an ass.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He’s not sure about whether he wants kids or not. He’s kind of just enjoying being young and having fun right now, and he never actually thought he’d get married before, but he’d be open to it later on down the line if it was something you really wanted.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

For as much game as he talks, this boy is a LITTLE SPOON. He loves being held by you, and sometimes can’t fall asleep unless your arms are wrapped around him. In public, he’s always the one with his arm around you, hugging you from behind, putting on that alpha male persona, but when it’s just you guys he’s a total puppy.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Hawk likes to take you to parties. You guys can drink, dance, hang out with your friends, it’s the perfect place in his opinion. But for more private occasions like your anniversary, he likes a nice picnic on the beach. He’d make PB&J’s for you guys (and cut off your crusts), pack some juice boxes, and bring a big giant blanket (and condoms shhh) for you guys.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

You’re my happy place. Hawk thinks of you as the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Whenever he feels frustrated from training or insecure about his scar or angry at Demitri, he knows he can always go to you for support and you’ll make him forget all about that stuff. He’s never not smiling when you’re around.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

He first knew he loved you when you said his scar was cute. It’s always been his biggest insecurity, and even when you guys first went out, he always just assumed you just tried not to look at it and look at his hair or muscles instead. But when you told him you liked it, thought it gave him character and looked kind of tough, his heart shot through the roof. This beautiful, ethereal, magnetically charming girl thought his scar, his deformity, was cute?! Love on sight.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He’s more gentle than you would think, but still not as gentle as, say, Miguel. He would never hurt you or make you do anything you don’t want to do, but he likes to rough house, play wrestle, and tease you a little bit. He likes to sneak up behind you, pick you up and spin you around, and ruffle your hair as a “good morning” every day.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Hawk is holding your hand all. The. damn. Time. He likes everyone to know who you belong to. Inside, he’s still a little insecure and nervous that you’ll decide you can do better and leave him, so he finds holding your hand reassuring, especially when you run your thumb over the back of his hand.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

His first impression of you was honestly not good. You were friends with Samantha Larusso so he just assumed you were stuck up and snobby. The first time you guys actually talked was at a party. You were pacing nervously outside because your friends had left, your phone died, and you had no way to get home. Hawk took pity on you and offered to give you a ride on his motorcycle, and you guys ended up driving all over town, talking, laughing, drinking milkshakes, and you quickly made plans to hang out the next day.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

He is the most jealous boy, mostly because he’s insecure that you’ll leave him for someone else. Sometimes you think it’s hot, but if it ever bothers you, he’ll make a conscious effort to work on himself and trust that you’ll always come back to him.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Your first kiss was the sweetest moment ever. You guys were sitting on the beach one night talking about all your deep thoughts. He started telling you how he was super insecure about his lip scar and thought no girl would ever want to kiss him before he got the mohawk and muscles. “Well I can think of one girl who would love to kiss you.” At this, he looked at you with pure shyness, and you leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss. Now, his kisses can range anywhere from sweet and loving, to possessive and dominant. You love them all.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He knew he was in love with you when you first talked about nerdy shit with him and Demitri. He always thought he couldn’t like nerdy stuff like Dr. Who or girls wouldn’t like him, so when Demitri brought it up while you three were hanging out, he panicked. But then you started talking about the new trailer and how excited you were for a female Dr. and he fell in love on the spot.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

His favorite memory with you is that time he needed to touch up his hair color and you asked if you could do it for him. You got him a little poncho (garbage bag but shhh), parted his hair in neat little sections, and touched up the dye. You guys had such a fun time, you gushed about how good his hair looked down, and it ended up looking way better than when he did it himself. Now every time he needs a touch up he comes to you.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Hawk doesn’t generally spoil you with material things. You both would much rather spend your time and money on memories, or food. Of course on your birthday and anniversaries he gets you little gifts, but generally speaking, his love language leans more towards quality time.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Lavender reminds him of you. Soft, sweet, feminine. He thinks it looks amazing on you, too. He’s actually thought about dying his mohawk lavender next just to feel closer to you.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Princess. That’s the biggest one. Sometimes angel, or babygirl.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

His favorite non-modern thing is old muscle cars. He’s saving up to buy an old Corvette one day. It’s one of his big goals in life. He wants to have a mohawk made for the car, too, so everyone knows how cool he is.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Little secret about Hawk, he loves to cook. When it’s raining outside, he likes to have you come over and make a big meal with him. Maybe chicken pot pie, steaks, or pad thai, and sit on the couch eating and watching old movies.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Unfortunately, Hawk used to be an expert at being sad back before he joined Cobra Kai. The way he likes to deal with it is generally just crying. He likes to let it all out, be alone, collect himself, and then maybe watch a movie or hang out with you. If you’re sad, his first question is “who do I have to beat up?” If it’s not from a person, he’ll take you on an adventure. Hikes, long drives, exploring new places, just to get your mind off it.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Umm karate. It literally changed his life. He loves to tell you about the new moves he learned in training, talk about the tournaments coming up, or the rivalry between Cobra Kai and Myagi-Do. And you’re a sucker for gossip so you love to hear about it.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Music, soft blankets, the tiredness after a workout, a good hot meal, and he loves to watch cringe compilations on Youtube.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Ever since his transformation from Eli to Hawk, this boy likes to show off everything, all the time. His hair, his tattoos, his muscles, his fighting skills, his sarcasm, his girl…

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposes to you about 6 months into your relationship with a ring pop outside of a gas station. You both knew it was a joke, but honestly started referring to each other as fiance and never stopped. Then, about 3 years later, he got you a real ring and took your hand and said “about time we actually do this, huh?” Of course, he took you to the same gas station where he had “proposed” the first time. Not the most romantic thing looking in on it, but to you guys, it was perfect.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Highway To Hell- ACDC

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

He proposes to you multiple times! Of course he thinks about it. He wants you guys to be together forever!

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

A hawk! It’s his signature symbol, of course he thinks it would be super badass to actually have a pet hawk. He would name it Desmond, and get it a tiny little mohawk.

#cobra kai #hawk #hawk x reader #miguel diaz #eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #jacob bertrand #fluff #karate kid

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let-it-raines · 3 years

Text

I Hope We Never See October (4/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

Found on Ao3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

-/-

Emma has this thing about the summer tourists in Martha’s Vineyard. There are several types, but they can be categorized into two main groups: the annuals versus the one-timers.

It’s pretty self-explanatory. The annuals come back every year. They usually have a family home on the island or in Cape Cod or Falmouth, and they come back year after year to do the same things – from taking out the same boats to eating at the same restaurants. Then there are the one-timers. They get an opportunity to come and spend a week or two taking pictures, eating food, spending time by the ocean, going on hikes, and then they never, ever come back. They’ve seen enough.

The annuals pay for Emma’s life. The one-timers, though, keep her entertained.

If she never has to see them again, there are no consequences, no attached strings. It’s the perfect distraction, especially in the past few years, and she will not be ashamed of the choices she makes.

Not at all.

Except, right now, she’s seriously questioning her choices because sometimes Emma can be pretty damn stupid.

But then Killian’s hand slips down the back of her thigh, fingertips pressing into her skin, kneading it in the places that bring her pleasure, and she forgets how stupid this is and remembers how good it feels. His voice is deep with his teasing, his mouth soft, and when he uses his knee to nudge hers to the side, Emma complies and arches her back as he slowly guides himself into her. Her heartbeat speeds up, sweat already forming at the nape of her neck that not even the breeze from the open window can fix, and she continues to adjust her hips as Killian finds his rhythm.

It’s a damn good rhythm, one that only takes a little instruction on her part, before he’s leaning over her, sucking the skin at her neck, and building her toward a higher and higher pleasure as he whispers filth into her skin.

And for the minutes that it takes, ones that seem to fly and drag on all at once, Emma forgets how monumentally stupid she’s being by sleeping with him. It was a moment of weakness, one where she was lonely and he was there with his stupidly handsome features and charming stories, and it seemed like the obvious thing to do.

Even though she really did simply intend to invite him in for coffee, but how many people truly believe that offer to be taken at face value?

Emma thinks he’s an obnoxious flirt, but at least it’s nice to know he can back his words up with actions.

Emma scratches her fingers down his back until she’s tightening them around the muscles in his arms. He’s fitter than she imagined, which is always a bonus, and his muscles twitch as he continues to move in her, over her, until his hand reaches between them and Emma finds the subtle bliss she doesn’t often find from arrangements like this.

So, she’s stupid, but at least she’s satisfied.

Killian hovers over her as his thrusts become more erratic, as he finds his own release, his forehead pressed into hers, and then he’s rolling over, taking a breather next to her, before getting up to dispose of the condom and put his briefs back on. Emma does the same, using the bathroom to pee and wash her face, before putting on a t-shirt and pair of underwear.

“So, that was,” Killian begins when she comes back from the bathroom. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, body still on near full display as he presses his hands back.

“You’re only staying here this summer, right?” Emma interrupts.

He raises one brow, then the next. “Aye. I don’t imagine I’ll return next year. My life should be…less complicated then.”

Okay, good. Maybe she’s not so stupid after all.

Because he may be friends with Ariel and Eric, which isn’t the clean break she’s looking for, but it’s clean enough.

She wonders how his life could be complicated. She doesn’t know much about him, but she knows enough. He’s rich, can take months off from work to vacation, and there’s little chance he actually knows what complicated is.

“Why do you ask?” he continues, scratching his neck.

Emma shrugs. “Because this wasn’t…this was casual. I’m not into having a relationship, especially with someone who has an expiration date.”

“Trust me, love,” he laughs, “neither am I. I do fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me, but I know what this was. I’m not under any impressions otherwise.”

Emma nods and grabs a pair of sleep shorts from one of her drawers. “Well, good. That’s good.”

This is always the awkward part. Do they stay or do they go? Emma votes go, but she’s unsure how to ask without coming off as a total bitch.

Especially since this is a man who already knows her more than he should.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “it is good.” He leans down and picks up his jeans, standing to slide them on. Why the hell are his pants that tight. “But I have the feeling you’re waiting on me to leave, so I can do that for you.”

“Oh, I - ”

“Perceptive, Swan.” He points to his head. “I told you I’m actually quite perceptive, and I meant it. Have a good night, love. I’m sure I’ll see you around the island.”

He finishes getting dressed as Emma stands in the corner and crosses her arms, watching him. Not five minutes ago she was watching him move in a completely different way, and the memories nearly tempt her to ask him to stay.

She’s stupid, but she’s not that stupid.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I’ll see you around.”

-/-

July

“Can you work Saturday, Ashley?” Emma asks as she pulls up next week’s schedule. “Heather apparently can’t, and I have to have someone cover her shift. You’ll get good tips.”

“I can work then, but I need next Thursday morning off. I have an appointment.”

Emma adds Ashely’s name into the chart and looks up as Ashley rubs her hand over her stomach. “I’ll cover you. Are you finding out the gender?”

“I am. I’m excited.”

“Good.” Emma closes her laptop and stands from behind her desk. “I’m glad you’re excited. How are things out there?”

“Busy. I’d expect nothing less from the holiday week.”

Emma inhales before breathing out a slow exhale. “I wouldn’t either. I’ll come and help out. Make sure you’re taking enough breaks and drinking enough water. I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”

“I’m not,” Ashley promises, but Emma knows how tired the girl is, “but I really appreciate you.”

They walk out of Emma’s office, and while Ashley goes back to her section, Emma starts doing her rounds, checking in with her servers and cooks, making sure everything stays up to the standards she needs. This is one of their busiest weeks of the year, and she can’t afford for anything to go wrong. They had a hiccup last week with the bread order, and with how many burgers they’re selling, she really can’t afford for that to happen again.

Once she’s done checking inside, she walks to their outside area. It’s such a pleasant day out with the sun shining directly over them. The boardwalks are full of people, the beaches the same, and she sees more boats out on the water than usual.

She also sees a familiar mop of black hair sitting alone at the end of their outdoor patio. She hasn’t seen him since he left her house a few days ago, headlights of his Jeep fading in the distance.

Go figure that he’s here again. He seems to be fond of the place.

“You really like the food here, huh?”

“That and the manager.”

Emma laughs and leans against the railing as a family boards a boat a few feet away, their voices carrying over to Emma. It’s four of them, mom, dad, brother, and sister. It’s the picture-perfect New England family, and she imagines all the brochures in the tourism office look just like this.

And not at all like her.

“Laying on the charm a little too thick,” Emma sighs, shaking her head. “But I have a feeling that’s your thing.”

“I like to think it’s just the right amount.” He spears a bit of his omelet and pops a bite in his mouth. “What are you doing out here?”

“My job.”

His brow arches and he reaches out his arm, moving it around to the railing. His skin has tanned since she first met him, and she must admit, at least to herself, that he looks good. “You check in on all your customers like this?”

“Just the ones who keep coming back.” “To be fair, I figured I could avoid you seeing me if I sat out here.”

Emma rolls her eyes as the family’s boat starts and begins to stutter away. “Look, you can come here all you want. I know I - I didn’t make it seem that way, but I don’t care what you do or don’t do as long as you don’t expect anything from me.”

“Not a thing, love.”

“Good.” Emma stands, tightening the knot on her Blue Dog Tavern t-shirt. “But, you know, if you did happen to be up late at night, and I happened to be up, I wouldn’t oppose you stopping by for some coffee.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Well, some nights, of course. When I feel like it.”

Killian chuckles and leans back in the chair, the front legs coming off the ground. “When you feel like it. And how would I know that?”

Emma pulls her phone out of her back pocket and holds it out to him. Without a word, he types his number in and hands it back to her. “That’s how you’ll know. I hope you enjoy your meal, Jones.”

Emma taps him on the shoulder and walks away, shaking her head. She’s stupid. So damn stupid, but as she walks back into the main dining hall and sees how crazy it is, she thinks she deserves a bit of a break, a bit of fun. She’s an adult. She can make stupid decisions sometimes.

Especially hot, British stupid decisions who are here on a time limit.

Her life is messy already. What’s one more thing?

-/-

Emma pops open a beer bottle, throwing the top away and settles on David and Mary Margaret’s pool lounge chair, pulling her legs up to keep them out of the sun. Ruby, meanwhile, is on full display on a pool float, as is David. Mary Margaret is joining Emma in the no sun club.

“So, how are you lately?” Mary Margaret asks, sipping on her lemonade. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in a week.”

“That’s because you haven’t.”

Mary Margaret laughs and puts her drink on the table between them. “Well, you have to tell me what you’ve been up to. I don’t know how you deal with months without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby screeches, nearly flopping into the pool before she paddles her way toward the two of them, “I totally forgot.”

“What’d you forget, hon?”

“That I saw Emma’s hot British friend running yesterday, and I nearly passed out.”

“Why?” Emma asks, sipping on her beer again. “Were you running too? I told you to stop doing that when you haven’t had water in ages. You’ll legitimately pass out.”

Ruby kicks and some of the water splashes onto the side of the pool. “Hey, careful!” David yells. “I just cleaned this grout.”

“Yes, Dad,” Ruby mocks, kicking more water before paddling to the edge of the pool. “Anyway, I meant to say that I saw him, was reminded of just how attractive he is, and Emma, my darling, I must say that there is no harm in having a little summer fun. In fact, I encourage it. It’s good for the soul. And the vagina for that matter.”

Emma spits out her beer, the alcohol spilling onto the tile, and she swear David gives her murder eyes even though he’s gone back to lounging with his eyes closed. “You need a filter, Rubes.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Emma laughs and stretches her legs out, letting her toes peep out of the shade and into the brightness of the sun. “I will have you know, though, that he doesn’t plan on returning next summer. He has an expiration date.”

“So you fucked him?” Ruby asks, a little too gleeful.

“You can fill in the blanks.” Emma pulls her feet back under the shade and closes her eyes.

She’s not shy with her friends, especially Ruby. they know enough about each other’s lives to fill books about, but some things, Emma keeps under wraps unless she absolutely has to share them. Or unless she’s in the mood. Right now, with David nearby and with Mary Margaret totally judging her.

The woman is kind and fun and supportive, but she also met David a decade ago and knew he was the one on the first date. Personally, Emma thinks that is bullshit, but she’d never tell anyone that. You can know someone for years without truly knowing them, so how could anyone be so sure on a first date?

David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard somehow were.

“You know, Emma,” Mary Margaret begins, “that wall you keep up may keep out pain, but it may also keep out love.”

Emma laughs and presses the cold bottle to her lips. “Marg, I’m sleeping with a guy for fun. It’s not a love match. Let me have this. In September, I’ll go back to being the Emma Swan who doesn’t do stupid things like this.”

“I didn’t - ”

“It’s fine.” Emma finishes her drink and pulls her hair into a high bun before standing and walking toward the pool, quickly submerging herself in the water to get used to the chill. She swims over to David and pulls on his float. “Hey.”

He lifts his sunglasses. “Hey.”

“How goes the job? Still seeing a bunch of cats and dogs be cute?”

“Cute and gross. What’d Mary Margaret say to make you leave your cocoon of shade?”

“Nothing. Just thought I’d come say hi to you. I do like you from time to time.”

David chuckles and slides his glasses back on. “I only believe half of that, but it’s alright. I won’t push.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

Emma stays with the Nolans and Ruby for the rest of the afternoon, and no one bugs her about her dating life, thank God. They all mean well, truly, but sometimes the last thing Emma wants to do is listen to them. On the spectrum of how they approach love, Emma is somewhere in the middle. She’s not David and Mary Margaret with their love conquers all attitude, and she’s not Ruby with her casual, carefree approach to simply seeing where the wind takes her. She’s...well, she doesn’t know what she is. All Emma knows is that while she’s experienced the highs of what love can bring, she has also experienced the lowest of the lows.

It’s safer in the middle. If you don’t fall in love, you can’t get your heart broken. But you can have some fun when you need it.

Hence, Killian, even if he is not the someone she expected to be having her summer fun with.

God, when she thinks like that, it sounds like she’s narrating a beach movie where all the colors are too bright and no one ever sweats despite spending their entire lives outside.

Speak of the devil, a group of young girls ride down the street on bikes, laughing, their hair falling behind them, and then two minutes later, they’re back again. What the hell?

That’s when she realizes they have a friend with a camera standing on the sidewalk, taking pictures of them, and Emma rolls her eyes before turning to grab her purse and her keys. “I’m going to head home,” she yells out. “I want to beat all the drunk drivers and the illegal fireworks home.”

“Wait, don’t go,” Mary Margaret insists from her spot on the couch. “Let me get you some leftovers.”

“Marg, you don’t have to feed me.”

“I know, I know.” She stands from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. “But you so rarely cook, and it’s good for you to have real meals. And since you’re alone without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby squeals, king her leg out. She nearly knocks over the vases and books Mary Margaret keeps on her coffee table. “Holy fuck. Like, fuck.”

Emma drops her purse. “What?”

Ruby raises her hand and folds her fingers, beckoning Emma to come closer to her. Emma rolls her eyes, but she does it anyway, plopping down next to Ruby.

“Okay, so, I couldn’t stop thinking about your new boy toy,” she starts.

“Not a toy,” Emma corrects. “He’s fine with the arrangement too.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I wanted to know more about your little sex buddy, not that I think he’s little in any way, so I went to Ariel’s Instagram, searched through her followers, and found him. And, well…”

Ruby shoves her phone into Emma’s hands, and Emma looks down, scanning through the photos. It’s a lot of group shots of men in soccer uniforms, and she thinks that’s weird but okay. He’s a member of a little soccer club back home. That seems like something rich people in England would do. It’s probably more interesting than her extracurricular hobbies which consist of eating, going to the gym, and sitting in David and Mary Margaret’s living room. It’s not like she has any room to judge someone over what they do in their free time.

Still, she continues scrolling, careful not to like anything, and it’s not until she comes across a picture of him with his shirt off that she stops to really think.

Not because he has his shirt off. She’s seen that in person. She doesn’t need to see that in pictures.

But because of the number of likes on the picture.

And the number of followers he has.

And then the little blue checkmark next to his name.

Holy fuck indeed.

“So, that’s how he has money to rent one of the big houses over in Edgartown.” Emma closes out the app and hands Ruby back her phone. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Ruby scoffs, getting loud enough that David finally looks up with his own phone. Mary Margaret remains clueless in the kitchen. “You’re sleeping with a literal professional athlete, and that’s your reaction?”

Emma shrugs and stands from the couch as David asks Ruby to see what she was showing Emma. “David obviously finds it more interesting than me. I don’t care who he is or what he does or doesn’t do. That’s none of my business.”

Ruby gapes, David does too, and while Emma does have a bit of a weird feeling in her gut, she truly does not care what Killian Jones does. She’s got a few questions, sure, but much like the other men she’s been with lately, all she needs to know is if they’re clean and if they have condoms.

A little crude, but it’s the truth.

“Holy shit, Emma,” David whispers, but Emma is already ready to go, making her way into the kitchen to get the tupperware from Mary Margaret before this becomes a thing and she gets home too late.

It’s not a thing.

And she wants to go home.

-/-

It’s definitely not a thing, but she does think about it the next time he comes over. Not for long, though. Just when she notices a noticeably defined muscle she’s a little jealous of, but then he does this particularly delicious thing with his tongue or his hips that makes her completely forget about it.

And it’s not a thing when she thinks about it when she sees him running along the sidewalk outside the Blue Dog. She can run. She’s fit. She hates doing it, but she can. He just seems...graceful or something that she isn’t always. It’s difficult for her to articulate in her mind.

It continues to not be a thing each time she sees him, even when he invites her to his place for a change of scenery. The house, surprisingly, isn’t overly big compared to some of the other houses in the neighborhood, but it’s definitely not a place she could ever afford.

Not if she worked her literal ass off for five lifetimes and never spent any of her money.

All of the finishes are new, the design that modern coastal feel Emma sees on all the HGTV shows, and she can’t say she minds it. Her taste has always been a little more eclectic, but it’s nice, clean. And maybe one day when she’s not living in someone else’s house, she’ll actually decorate where she lives to her taste.

One day.

“Nice place,” Emma says, craning her neck so he can run his lips in just the right spot. He’s a quick study, which she appreciates, and he always remembers whatever she tells him.

“I like it,” he mumbles, his voice vibrating against her skin.

“Is this your style? Do you live in a big coastal home back in England?”

She doesn’t know why she asks, but she does.

He pulls back and raises his brow, which is this thing he’s always doing. At first it was annoying, like he was always questioning her, but now she realizes his brow likely has a mind of its own.

“Why do you ask, love?”

And much like the brow, that word seems to slip off his tongue without much thought. It has also become less annoying.

“No reason. Just curious.”

“I thought we didn’t ask personal questions.”

“You,” she corrects, tapping his chest, “don’t ask personal questions. I never said I couldn't ask.”

“I don’t think those are rules I agreed to.”

Emma ducks from underneath his arms, making her way into the open space of the living room. She unbuttons her shirt until her bra is exposed, and Killian’s eyes immediately glance down. Men are so easy.

“Okay, fair,” Emma sighs, running her hand over the back of a very well-made couch. “If I ask you a personal question, you can ask me one in return. But I have the right to veto. It’s a tit for tat situation.” He opens his mouth, and she already knows what he’s going to say. Again, men are so easy, and this is one that never passes up the opportunity for an innuendo. “Don’t say it, Jones.”

“Wasn’t going to.” He strides toward her, his movements fluid, and he puts his pointer finger in the empty belt loops of her jean shorts to pull her closer to him. He’s ridiculously warm. Then again, that could just be the flush in her cheeks. “And to answer your question, no, my flat in England doesn’t look like this. The colors are darker, but I do have a lot of blue and a few nautical pieces.”

“So you like the ocean then?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he corrects, tugging on the loops again, “you’ve already asked your question.”

“Asking if you like the ocean is not a personal question.”

“Anything can be a personal question depending on the person.” There’s a flash of something in his eyes, but Emma can’t decipher it. She’s usually a little better at reading people than that. “That can be your question for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” she asks as his hands sneak around to her ass.

“Yep. One personal question a day. Keeps things interesting while separate.”

“And we keep the veto rule?”

“Aye, we keep the veto rule, Swan,” he smiles, dipping his head down to kiss her. That’s the entire reason they’re here, after all.

“Good.”

Tomorrow, she’s totally going to ask a better question than if he likes the beach or not. He left England to hang out in Martha’s Vineyard for a few months. He obviously likes it.

“So,” Killian begins as he skillfully snaps the hook on her bra off. Emma lifts her back from the couch to give him easier access. “Tell me, darling, do you like seafood?”

His mouth grazes over her nipple, and Emma yanks on his hair, hard. “Is this your one personal question?”

“Aye.”

Emma rolls her eyes at the same time that she rolls her hips, and she thinks there must be some kind of metaphor for her life choices there.

“Love it.”

“Good,” he whispers as his warm hands run down her bare stomach and underneath the waistline of her shorts. “Then I insist you stay for dinner.”

And because Emma has been all into making stupid decisions over the past month, she does.

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight

#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #queue poetic noble land mermaid

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wingsofanillyrian · 3 years

Text

A Calculated Game (Nessian)

@fatimafares123 asked: “ Jealous cassian?? Where nesta knows exactly what she’s doing and how it affects cassian lmao 😂 “

Clearly they know writing a jealous nessian is my forte. Here you go friend! I haven’t written in forever pls be nice

Nessian Masterlist

Send me prompts!

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

Nesta had come to the bar with one specific purpose: making Cassian jealous. He had pissed her off during their training today, but damned if he hadn't gotten under her skin. Hair pulled back in a bun, golden skin glistening with a sheen of sweat as they had sparred under the midday sun... just the memory as enough to make her shiver.

But no way in hell would she be making the first move tonight. Cassian had knocked her down one too many times. So at the end of the day she had washed up, gotten her sexiest dress out, and headed to the tavern.

The long sleeved green velvet dress was always a showstopper. A slit reached high on her thigh, showing far too much skin to be proper. It hadn't taken long for a male to notice her. She had barely taken a seat at the bar when a well-muscled Illyrian shyly approached.

"Hey, you're Nesta, right?"

"Depends who's asking," she murmured, ordering a drink. She surveyed the male, who was nervously bouncing on his heels. He was young, but good looking. No visible scars except for a small, thin line on the edge of his chin. She couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him. But when Cassian showed up - and she knew he would, at some point - he would suit her needs perfectly.

"I'm Talos. I just started training a few months ago."

Nesta had thought those eyes were familiar. "In that case, yes I am."

"Thank the Cauldron," he sighed, sliding onto the stool next to her. "Can you give me some advice?"

She blinked, sizing the young Illyrian up. "What about?"

"About your mate." Nesta's eyes narrowed, not liking where this was going. Was he stupid?

"Oh no, not like that!" He chuckled nervously. "I just haven't been able to impress him. I was hoping maybe you could give me some pointers."

Nesta pursed her lips. "He isn't easy to impress."

"I know. But I really want to be part of his legion someday. Your form is impeccable." He gave her a tentative smile. "Maybe tomorrow night you could come by and-"

Someone shifted their weight nearby, enough to grab Talos' attention. Nesta didn't need to turn to see who it was; she already knew. Had scented him the moment he walked through the door. Nesta casually sipped her drink as Talos paled.

"I was-"

"Oh no, please, by all means. Continue."

Arms crossed and wings flaring, the challenge was evident in his wicked grin. The other male swallowed thickly, looking back to Nesta.

"No thanks. I'm good. I'll just-" his chair scraped against the floor as he fled.

Nesta rolled her eyes. Just once, she wished someone would have enough of a spine to stick around once Cassian showed up. It was hard to actually make him jealous when her prey kept fleeing at the sight of him. And besides, she genuinely would have helped him if he had actually finished his question.

"Can I help you?" She asked, annoyed.

Cassian took the now vacated seat. "Who was that?"

"I don't know," she lied. "Some Illyrian. Said he could show me a good time if I wanted."

The scent flooding over her was enough to tell her her little ploy was indeed succeeding. Cassian was definitely riled up. She smirked at him, egging him on.

"Oh, did he? Better time than I could show you?"

Nesta shrugged, stirring her drink with a long, pointed nail. "Guess I'll never know."

A growl rumbled in Cassian's chest and he shot a dangerous look in the other male's direction.

"Oh, would you cut it out?" She swatted his arm, dragging his attention back to her. "He wanted asking about you, you ass."

"About... me." His brows drew together. Nesta could see the gears turning in his head. When his expression changed, she knew the recognition had clicked.

"Ohhhhh..."

"Yes," Nesta drawled, finishing her drink. "Talos. You know, one of your new recruits? He was trying to figure out how to impress you. I was simply giving him some pointers."

"And you went along with it because... why?"

"Cause jealous sex is always better." So she had a thing for him when he was jealous and dominant; sue her.

"In that case, I will not be sleeping with you tonight." Cassian turned to the barkeep, signaling for a drink.

She waited to speak until he was served and had raised his drink to his lips. "You will when you see what I'm wearing under this dress- which is absolutely nothing."

He paused mid-drink, slowly setting the glass down.

"Is that so?" He murmured. She smirked, shifting so her bare skin shone through the thigh-high slit in the green velvet. A tiny shiver went through him as he scented her.

"Time to go," he said abruptly, slamming some coins on the counter without counting them. Considering he only had one drink, it was more than enough.

"But I haven't finished mine," she purred, indicating her still full glass. "I think I'll take my time."

Before she could blink, Cassian had snatched the glass and downed its contents in one gulp.

"Whoops, looks like its gone! Let's go." He grabbed her hand, leading her out the door. Nesta smiled, everything working in her favor.

"You're always so predictable."

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfiction

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hxwks-gf · 3 years

Text

» 𝖈𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖚𝖙𝖞

𝔩𝔢𝔳𝔦 𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝/𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚒. 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏 (𝚎𝚡. 𝙲𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚝𝚌) 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎?

Levi prided himself in his self control. It was what made him strong, unbreakable, disciplined. He was always in control. Everything he did was calm and calculated. No surprises. Nothing unexpected.

Which made the fact that he was in love with you all the more scarier to him because he had not a single shred of control over it.

“Cleaning duty?” you groaned, taking the broom out of Armin’s hand. “Again?”

“I’m sorry, (y/n), but the captain specifically asked for you to do it,” he replied, reaching up and adjusting the strap of your apron. “But I think you already know you’re the best at it, second only to him.”

“That doesn’t mean I like doing it,” you grumbled, hiding your nervousness with a pouting face. The captain asked for you specifically? What the hell did that mean? “Please tell me it’s not the stables again. I don’t think I can handle one more night of smelling like horse shit every time I go to bed.”

Armin laughed and shook his head, golden hair falling around his eyes. “No, it’s not the stables. It’s his office, actually. You’ll be assisting him.”

Your eyebrows raised. “His office? I’m surprised he trusts anyone near there, let alone to clean it.”

“I guess you’ve impressed him,” he said, shrugging. “You’d better go. You know how he is with punctuality.”

“Right,” you murmured as Armin patted you on the shoulder and left you alone in the hallway with nothing but an apron and a broom. A few other soldiers were off to their own respective nightly duties, none of which gave you a second glance.

You swallowed nervously and looked towards the southern quarters where you knew his office was. If you messed up even once, you knew you’d be back to shoveling shit every night. You had to be perfect. Levi wouldn’t settle for anything less.

The walk was quiet and still, as if the world was holding its breath and waiting to see how badly you’d fuck this up. You did your best to pay it no mind as you came to a stop outside of his door, knuckles raised to the wood. Two raps, and you stood back and waited.

“Come in,” his voice called from within.

You pushed the heavy door open and stuck your head inside, silently groaning when you saw he had already started. “I was told you asked for my assistance tonight.”

“I did,” he responded, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and gesturing towards the wooden floorboards.. “You can get started on sweeping.”

You tightened your grip around the handle of the broom. “Yes, sir.”

The next hour and a half was silent, except for the sound of you sweeping the floor and Levi emptying out the ashes in the fireplace. It wasn’t as scary as you had imagined it. The image of Levi shouting drill commands as you cleaned appeared in your mind, and you couldn’t help but silently laugh to yourself. No, cleaning with him was peaceful. Therapeutic, almost.

You wiped your forehead and stood back to admire your handiwork. The floor was practically sparkling, and you couldn’t help but puff your chest out with pride. Glancing back at him still kneeling by the fireplace, you cleared your throat.

“Finished?” he asked without looking up at you.

“Yes, sir.”

“That was quick.” Levi stood up and wiped his hands off on his apron. “Shall I inspect, or do you want to double check your work?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “No, sir. Inspect all you wish.”

He knelt to the floor and ran his hand over it. When he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, he was silent. Victory.

“You won’t find anything,” you said, leaning on the broom. “I’m sure you already knew that, though.”

Levi glared up at you and got to his feet again. “No need to get cocky, (l/n). You still need to dust.”

You shrugged at him, mindful to keep your gloating to a minimum as you picked up the feather duster and began working on his desk. That peaceful silence returned, paired now with the soft sound of the feathers caressing his belongings and his scrubbing of the windows nearby.

Another hour passed and you cleared your throat again, standing by his desk with the duster behind your back. “I’m finished, sir.”

“Did you get under the desk?”

“Yes.”

He hummed in response and joined you where you stood. He leaned over and scrutinized the surface, looking for even the slightest amount of dust to use against you. Just then, a pleasant smell entered your nostrils; a mix of fresh, clean linens, tea leaves, and another earthy scent you couldn’t quite place. It put you at an even calmer ease than the cleaning. Your nostrils flared as you tried to figure out where it was coming from, until Levi stood upright again and the scent washed over you.

A furious blush covered your cheeks. It was him. He was what smelled so good. You pressed your lips into a thin line and studied the wooden slats of the ceiling as if they were the most fascinating thing on earth, painfully aware that you had just discovered your new favorite scent. Shit.

“It’s adequate,” Levi finally said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You snapped your attention back to him and nodded feverishly. “T-thank you, sir.”

“No snarky reply this time?”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, not after what you had just done. “Do you want one, sir?”

Levi arched an eyebrow and shook his head. “Save it for next time, (l/n). Go get dinner.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you managed to get out, picking up your forgotten broom and nearly scrambling to get out of his office. You shut the door behind you a little more forcefully than intended and collapsed against it, wanting to scrub the scent of him out of your nose. If you allowed yourself to take even one step further, you knew there was no going back. So why bother taking that first step at all?

“Please tell me it’s stable duty,” you begged, holding onto Armin’s sleeve for dear life. “Please.”

He scrunched up his nose. “You want to shovel horse poop?”

The memory of Levi’s scent invaded your mind and you nodded your head fervently. “Yes. Clears my head.”

Armin’s eyes scanned the paper and made a face. “Nope, you’re in mess hall tonight.”

“Oh, thank God,” you breathed, already picking up an apron and a broom. “I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

Armin watched you disappear down the hall with that strange pep in your step. Shaking his head in confusion, he turned around to go about his own nightly duties.

The mess hall was quiet, for now. You were on a strict time clock to clean the entire room before dinner was served, and you were ready to completely lose yourself in the task. Despite what you told the rest of the squad about how much you hated cleaning, you actually enjoyed it. A lot. You were sure there was some symbolism in there somewhere, something about not being able to completely clean yourself of the things you had done so you resorted to the next best thing...but you didn’t want to think about it.

Before you could begin pushing the mop back and forth across the filthy floor, you heard the doors open. And when you glanced up to see who it was, you felt your heart flip within your chest.

Levi pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and fastened his apron around his waist as he walked towards you, holding his own mop in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out.

He came to a stop in front of you and frowned. “Don’t be rude. I’m here to help you.”

“But...why?”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you asked, gripping the handle of the mop tightly. “Captain things?”

“I find cleaning to be relaxing,” he said, tossing his ebony hair out of his eyes. “But if you’d like to finish this on your own, be my guest.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you rushed out, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. “I just...I’m sorry. I could use the help, sir.”

Levi watched you with those intense grey eyes, before nodding curtly and turning his back to you. “Very well.”

He was only a few feet away from you, the soft hair of his undercut visible, and you instinctively leaned forward to inhale. That sweet, woodsy scent was back, washing over you in a flurry of fresh linens, tea leaves, and pine trees. You would never get enough of it.

Levi began working before you did, and you admired the way he was so diligent in every movement he made, as if each one was already calculated in his head prior to his body executing it. You watched the way the muscles in his exposed forearms flexed and relaxed with each push of the mop, the expression of pure, focused determination on his otherwise handsome face. You had always admired your captain. He was everything you wished you could be: strong, willful, smart. Damn good at cleaning. The scent of him, the sound of his voice, the strength and power of his resolve, it was making your head spinー

You felt your fingers curl into fists, the fingernails digging into your palms. No, this wasn’t happening. You couldn’t afford to let yourself fall like this, and so easily. Especially not with someone like him.

But it was with him. And you had no longer had control.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk, or are you going to work?”

A confession was on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to spill over your lips and out into the air. But at the sound of his voice, you promptly swallowed it and turned away from him in shame.

Nights in the barracks were not often quiet, but tonight was different. Normally you were accompanied by the sound of everyone else sleeping; snoring, mumbling, coughing, but tonight you had been blessed with silence.

So why couldn’t you sleep?

Was it the way you spent the rest of the time cleaning the mess hall without saying another word to Levi? Was it the way he watched you from the officer’s table at dinner, not touching his food, as if he wanted to say something to you? Was it the way you couldn’t get the scent of him out of your mind? Was it the way you wanted to spill every secret you had about your growing feelings to him, just so you could finally be able to breathe in the same room as him?

“Fuck,” you muttered, rubbing your tired eyes. “Fine.”

A few minutes later and you were at his door, barefoot and knuckles poised to knock. But you hesitated. Why did you hesitate?

“Fuck,” you whispered fiercly again, squeezing your eyes shut. You could fight Titans and look Death straight in the face on nearly every mission you went on, but you couldn’t find an ounce of courage to tell Levi how you felt?

You pressed your back against his door and sighed, feeling a lump growing in your throat. “Coward,” you muttered to yourself, tilting your head back to rest against the wood.

“(y/n)?”

You quickly lifted your head up and felt your heart drop. Levi was standing there at the end of the hall, a piece of bread in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

“S-sir!” you managed to get out. “I’m sorry, I thought you were still in your officeー”

“Is something wrong?”

You shut your mouth and hid your trembling hands behind your back. “No, nothing’s wrong, I just...felt like going for a walk.” You winced at how terrible the lie sounded.

Levi was no fool. He closed the gap between you and stood less than an arm’s length away, studying your face intently, as if he could read what you were hiding. He was so close that you could see each individual eyelash that lined those grey eyes that reminded you so much of the clouds that formed the most violent of thunderstorms, bristling and crackling with unseen energy. Your gaze flicked to his parted lips, and then back up to his eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle.

“Nothing,” you whispered, pressing yourself against the door. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Something is obviously bothering you.”

You felt caged in, trapped, drowning in his scent and in his eyes. You wanted to run, run, runーcower beneath the safety of your blankets and never think about what his skin felt like against yours, or his fingers trailing along your bare spine, or how soft and delicate those parted lips of his were.

“Levi,” you said, almost unable to breathe in his presence. “Stop.”

“(y/n)...”

“Stop!” you exploded. His eyes went wide and he took a step away from you. “I can’t do this, I thought I could, but I’m just a coward andー”

“Do what?” he snapped. The irritation in his tone made you flinch. “What are you talking about?”

“I have feelings for you, goddammit!” you shouted.

For a moment, there was nothing, only the pregnant silence in the hallway as your confession was now hanging out to dry between you. He stared at you, dumbfounded, shockingly at a loss for words.

You gave a great, heavy sigh as the invisible weight was lifted off your shoulders. “It’s stupid, and childish, I know,” you said softly, looking down at your bare toes. “But I can’t help it.”

Levi moved past you and opened the door into his office, silently gesturing for you to follow. You obeyed, feeling humiliated and embarrassed and definitely not in the mood for a lecture on how inappropriate it all was as you slid into a chair at the table. You had no doubt Levi would squeal to Erwin in the morning and have you removed from the squad. God, all of this was a big mistakeー

“(y/n), I’m in love with you.”

You blinked and focused on him. “What?”

Levi had set his tea and bread on the table and was now leaning against it with his arms crossed, dark hair hiding his eyes. “You heard me.”

“Are you joking?”

“Am I really the joking kind?”

“I suppose not,” you quietly replied, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I just find it a little hard to believe.”

Levi actually let out a laugh. It was more of a scoff, but you took it as amusement anyway. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you’re my captain. I’m beneath you. I’m...just a soldier.”

Strong, calloused fingers were underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him, shameful tears shining in your eyes. Who knew humanity’s strongest could be so gentle behind closed doors?

“You’re my soldier,” he murmured, the pad of his thumb caressing the point of your chin. “As much as I am your captain.”

“Why me?”

“It was your expert cleaning skills that first caught my attention,” he confessed, taking the seat beside you and pulling his cup of tea to him. He eyed you as he took a sip. “The more I watched and studied the way you worked, the more I appreciated and looked forward to seeing your diligence.” He set his cup down and stared at it. “That...that turned into a form of infatuation. I grew accustomed to watching you: how you walked, how you talked, how you worked. I couldn’t get enough.

“It wasn’t until that day I gave you orders to help clean my office that I knew it was more than a simple infatuation. I didn’t want to make you work. I didn’t want you to sweep my floors and dust my belongings. I wanted you to rest, I wanted you to feel safe and secure in my space.” Levi took another sip of tea and looked up at you. “I saw you had been assigned to clean the entire mess hall just hours before dinner, and I was furious. Not even I could accomplish that on my own. But I knew questions would be raised if I stepped in and altered it, so I did the next best thing.”

“Cleaning with you was the first time I’ve ever felt at peace in months,” you said softly, watching the way his throat bobbed as he drank his tea. “Even that day in the mess hall.”

Levi reached out and trailed the tip of his finger along your cheekbone, before tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re the only brat who knows how to do it right.”

You visibly preened at the compliment, which made him chuckle. “So what now?” you asked, resting your chin in your hand.

“We can do one of two things,” he said. “We can pretend like none of this ever happened and go back to our duties like normal in the morning.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken. “Or?”

“Or we can go with it. It’ll be difficult, but I’m not really one to back down from a challenge.” Levi nonchalantly continued to sip his tea. “So, what’ll it be?”

As if he needed an answer.

tagging: @a-monsters-love @unlasting @erilerichan @jennammae @greatbiscuitsword @kuurechr @heydae20 @luv4kiyoomi-archive

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downfordiluc · 3 years

Text

Kaeya x F Reader One Shot. [Modern AU].

Warning // Explicit Language. No Smut, only fluff.

Synopsis: a night filled with alcohol, dancing and feelings.

If you rubbed your eyes one more time, you feared they may disappear inside of your skull. The display on your laptop was beginning to sear your retinas, as you watched the clock tick over to 11:30 pm. You should have left work hours ago. Having a hardass for a boss had wasn't something really had any benefits to it, other than the sizeable paycheck you took home after a long week's work; often going ten or twenty hours over your actually scheduled nine to five days.

Being able to finally click save and close the torture machine in front of you was something that you spent every working moment impatiently waiting for, and the satisfaction you got from knowing you could finally go and slump into your bedsheets was something that never really lost its novelty. And yet, tonight wasn't going to be one of those nights.

"Wanna go cause some trouble?"

You looked up blearily at the voice, seeing a tall, tan figure leaning against your doorway, one hand on his hip, and the other in his pocket. The smirk on his lips was one that you couldn't get enough of, but you'd never admit it. You'd never give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

"It's almost midnight, Kaeya." you remarked, as you shrugged your leather jacket onto your shoulders. Despite the protest in your tone, you had basically already succumbed to his plans before even hearing them, as you collected your belongings that were spread over your desk. "And so the night is only young, [Y/N], whaddya say?". This man knew he was born with a silver tongue, and had the power to persuade even the most stubborn to follow his every command. You knew this, and yet you fell victim every damn time.

"Where are we going?", you practically had a white flag waving above your head, as you walked through the door he held open, and yet you weren't fooled - Kaeya was no gentleman. He was a sweet talker, and he played the field like it was second nature to him. Life was like a game of chess, except he was always 5 moves ahead, taking piece after piece off of the board. Women were the pawns.

"Diluc's club, he pissed me off yesterday, and if my memory serves, you're not best pleased with him either.", he looked as though his plan had fallen into place, and yet it had one fatal flaw. "So your plan for revenge, is to financially provide for him by drinking in his club?". You felt as though you had his king in check - winning the game of chess - and might actually get to go home for the night. Yet that stupid smirk returned, and you instantly dropped the glimmer of hope you had grasped onto. "Money is simply an object to him, you know this. But just imagine the look on his face if he saw us both having the time of our goddamn lives, huh?". You hated to admit it, but to see that exact face you were now picturing was an opportunity you would not pass up, even if you hadn't slept for a week.

The night was bitter, biting at your cheeks as you walked down the cobblestoned alleys. No matter how much you pulled at your thin jacket for warmth, it simply wasn't the right choice of attire for the middle of February. "I know a way to warm you up." the man to your right quipped, and you instinctually glared up at him, seeing a saccharine sweet smile upon his face. You rolled your eyes and looked away from him, refusing to step into the trap that was his syrupy gaze. You knew better.

"Vodka".

You heard him chuckle at your blunt response. A soft, breathy laugh that could melt ice, and the heat that rose to your cheeks was welcoming, considering the harsh winds that felt like icicles piercing your skin. He really did have a way to make women putty in his hands, and you had never been more glad you considered yourself above that, considering you were about to get absolutely shit-faced together.

One shot turned to two, and two turned to three, as you bottomed the foul liquid, and slammed each glass onto the table with a loud clink. You hadn't done this in a while, and it had been even longer since you had done it with another person. Drinking alone was usually your style, which now you realised was actually quite sad.

"Slow down, darlin', they'll run out if you aren't careful.", he had absolutely no right to be using words like that, and even less right to witness the colour that lit your cheeks alight. Suddenly, staring at the marble bar seemed a lot more interesting.

"Mind your own business, Alberich. You said you wanted to have fun, this is how I have fun.". You knew full well the worse was yet to come. They say everyone has a second personality when they're drunk, and yours enjoyed partying like the world was going to end tomorrow. You noticed he was nursing his whiskey, and frowned at him, tilting your head to the side and resting it on your fist.

"Didn't take you to be a lightweight." you smiled devilishly into your words, watching his eyes widen slightly in surprise, you could practically see him recoil as though you had smacked him in the face. "Someone's gotta be able to walk to take you home.". The laugh you let out in response was a hearty, full one. Something you hadn't done in a while. You pushed at his shoulder, mocking him further. "Let go, have fun! Worst case scenario, we sleep on the floor. I never took you to be the boring one, Kaeya."

Enough was enough, he raised his glass and allowed the burning liquid to slip down his throat. He pulled a face before his glass made the same clink that your shots had been making for the past hour. "It's on, darlin."

"Two more shots over here, dear brother." You had almost forgotten why you came tonight, as you saw the redhead's brows almost touch, frowning as he had no choice but to stop ignoring the two of you, which he had been trying to do since you strutted into his club.

"And two for me!" You giggled into your words, as he gave you a look that you had never seen on his face. "I like your style, [Y/N]". His voice was lower than usual, probably from the assault on his throat the whiskey had enacted, but you had to admit, it sounded good that way. Too good, judging by the butterflies kicking up a fuss in your stomach. You decided to simply drown them in alcohol, as Diluc slid the drinks across to you without even muttering a word.

You must have had seven or eight shots of vodka by now, and at this point, Kaeya wasn't far behind, his jacket and tie discarded over the back of his stool, as well as two buttons on his shirt being undone. A deep v of tan skin practically begging you to stare. You had similarly discarded your jacket behind you, the alcohol flooding through your veins being what you attributed your rising body temperature to. You didn't even seem to care that all you had on was a lowcut, white tank top, which definitely left a lot less to the imagination than intended. Hopefully, the lighting was low enough that he didn't notice the lace of your bra creating lines under the thin fabric.

"Ahh, I love this song."

You didn't even seem in control of the words leaving your mouth, as a low, smooth beat filled the air around you. This song was one that you would definitely dance to in private, or if you weren't absolutely wasted. Before you even fully acknowledged what you were doing, you had climbed onto the surface in front of you and were gyrating your hips in a way that you wouldn't be caught dead doing sober. Vodka really lowered your inhibitions, a fact which was clearly evident to Kaeya, who couldn't help but stare as your hands worked their way down your body, slowly moving along to the music. He wasn't the only one staring. Pretty much the whole club was watching you let loose on the bar, ogling your figure and looking you up and down like meat on a stick. Diluc, however, could not have looked less impressed if he tried.

"[Y/N], get down from there. Everyone is staring.", Kaeya seemed almost possessive, as he extended his arm to you, trying to convince you to come down, and yet, you hadn't felt this free in a while. "You come up here! Dance with me, darlin'.". He seemed flushed at you using his words against him, but his stance didn't falter, as he kept insisting you come down from the bar. For a change, him and Diluc actually agreed on something.

"You're going to fall, [Y/N]."

"Then catch me, Prince Charming."

Your words were slurred, and it was clearly evident that you were inebriated beyond any point of logic, so Kaeya decided to take things into his own hands. He grabbed at your wrist and lightly pulled, expecting you to get the message, and finally come down. Definitely not expecting you to topple like a domino.

As your brain stopped feeling like it had just been scrambled, you noticed Kaeya's face only inches away from yours, before acknowledging that your body was pressed against his own. You'd actually fallen, holy shit, you were wasted. And yet, he had caught you. Prince Charming had really saved you - how ironic. His strong, defined muscles against your body were significantly more welcoming than the floor, that was for sure. If you weren't already completely certain that you had had more than enough to drink, you were once you caught yourself speaking.

"How about we take this somewhere more private, handsome?". You would be kicking yourself for those words once your blood stopped being what felt like 99% alcohol, and yet right now, you were biting your lip, looking up at him, barely noticing the flush under his tanned skin.

"How about we take you home?" was his response, as he tried to put you onto the floor, your legs buckling, as you sink to his knees. He sighed in defeat, tucking both of your jackets over his shoulder, and pulling you back up to cradle in his arms, using the warmth of his blazer as a pillow as you rested onto his shoulder. Maybe you were the lightweight, after all.

During the walk home, you hardly noticed the cold, between how hot the alcohol had you, and the warmth of his body heat pressed against yours. You barely acknowledged the journey ending until you felt the familiar softness of your bed under your warm body. Instinctively, you curled up onto your side, hugging a pillow, and kicking your shoes off of the side of the sheets.

"Goodnight, [Y/N]. I had fun with you tonight." Despite your vision being blurry, you could tell he was leaned against the wall the exact same way he had been hours ago at work, and you reached for his arm, tugging on his sleeve.

"Stay with me, Kaeya. Please.", you could feel yourself slowly sobering up, as your thoughts became less cloudy and your feelings becoming more lucid, and all you wanted was for him to stay by your side. Nothing sexual about it, you just wanted to feel his body heat radiating against yours as you slipped into slumber. You felt as though you could see the wanting in his eyes also, but his words begged to differ.

"I'll be on the couch." his reply left you feeling downcast, however, this was short-lived as you felt his lips lightly kiss you on the forehead, leaving the spot they had been tingling and prickling with heat. You were comforted knowing he would be there in any capacity, and that was the thought that nursed you to sleep pretending the pillow in your arms was the man who had caught you not long ago. You knew that you had caught feelings for him in turn. Maybe he wasn't so bad, after all? Maybe he could be your knight in shining armor. The one to keep you company on what would be a lonely night drinking, and the one to hold you tight as your head pounded into the early hours of the morning. Anything would be good, as long as he was there.

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin #genshin oneshot #genshin impact #genshin kaeya #genshin impact x reader #oneshot #fanfiction #modern au #fluff #genshin fluff #kaeya fluff

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usuallyamazinglyaverage · 3 years

Text

Side By Side [Ethan x MC]

Hey there, ya lovely people!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and got to celebrate the season of giving with your family and friends. To end this year properly, I’m back with a bit of writing :)

I’m not gonna lie, the two months before the holidays were really rough and I had to sort so much shit out. It just kept me from most things I love doing in my free time, including talking with my friends and writing. That’s why this one took me a while to finish.

(Nevermind the fact that I rewrote this fic like two times, but that’s a story for another day)

I’ll most likely take a break from OH oneshots for a while (unless inspiration strikes me), but I am still working on stuff, inluding one or two AUs and fics for some other fandoms. I hope a breather to get my muse back on track is alright with you all ;)

I wish you all a safe journey into the next year - let’s pray it’ll be a better one <3

As always, I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

Summary: Big steps in a relationship are always difficult - this one is no exception.

Warnings: Just some light teasing and a bit of language - this is mostly cheesy fluff <3 (I know, I’m surprised as well)

Note: MC of the fic is Annabelle Dawson. I created the header myself, hope it’s pleasing to the eye :) This is set a few months after the end of Book 2.

Taglist: @perriewinklenerdie @andromedasinclaire @radlovedreamer @amillionmoonsred @hopelessromantic1352 @cordoniaqueensworld @paisleylovergirl @fangirlingmum @bucket-harrington @lu-ciq @fairyrink @princess-geek @cyb3r-kat @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lady-kato @queenof1000days @sunflowergirl05 @jlpplays1 @tacohead13 @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @padfoot0415 @desiree-0816 @togetherwearerapture @thisperfectmemory @furiouscloddonutpeanut @tabootheunicorn @rookie-ramsey @theroseduelist @drakewalkerfantasy @lapisreviewsstuff @jooous @aworldoffandoms @edgiestwinter @inlovewithrebels @topsyturvy-dream @cerisesayeed-ramsey @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @marywitchjane @adrianrainesworld @zodiacsign1 @silverlitskies @trappedinfandoms @sherlockedmcu @drethanramslay @awhmilkywey @htgawparksandrec @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine @desmaranj @schnitzelbutterfingers @colourmeshy @mal-volaris @kaavyaethanramsey @riverrune @honeyandsunfl0wers @humanpokemon @ethandaddyramsey @lilyvalentine @mrsdrakewalkerblog @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @datynasuha @caseyvalentineramsey @ethxnrxmsey @squishywizardhq @custaroonie @beckaroo @colossalpainintheass @takemyopenheart @justanotherrookie @honeyandsunfl0wers @maurine07 @grandnachoconnoisseur @dr-ramseys-rookie @myusualnerdyself @mrs-raleighcarrera @akshara16 @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @alookseeblog

Song: If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Ethan tried very hard to not look like he was running – and was failing spectacularly.

Some of his colleagues had to dodge out of his way as he strode through the hallways, white coat fluttering behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets. Slipping into the stairwell, the attending took two steps at a time, reaching the bottom floor quickly.

The atrium was packed, lit by the bright gray sky beyond the ceiling windows - reminding him that he was supposed to be busy in his office right now. Christmas was just around the corner, and after Edenbrook’s reopening, the paperwork had simply piled up, barely giving him time to bring some distance between him and his desk.

He dreaded going back already - but there was something he had to take care of first. Something that felt pivotal for his motivation right now.

Turning his head, Ethan let his eyes wander through the spacious room, from the stairs to the entrance and back again. Finally, he spotted a mess of golden locks, tucked into the usual practical ponytail.

She was with her friends, Trinh and Varma, already dressed in her day-to-day clothes, the strap of her bag slung over one shoulder. The two other women gave her a hug, shooing her along.

Ethan couldn’t help but feel silly when her bell-like, resounding laugh made his heart lurch in his chest, lifting his mood immediately.

Anna turned on her heels with one last wave and headed towards the doors, tucking up her scarf and the lapels of her jacket to ward off the oncoming cold. He waited until her friends went back to their conversation before following her, maneuvering through the crowd and catching up with the younger doctor in the light snowdrift outside.

His hand on her shoulder coaxed a tiny yelp from her, hazel eyes looking up at him with a gratified sort of wonder.

"Ethan? What-"

The older doctor cut Anna off by directing her against the wall framing the entrance, cupping her chin and gently tilting it up for easier access. The kiss was rougher than he would have liked, muscle memory taking over as he nipped on the corner of her mouth.

His former intern, however, didn’t seem to mind, parting her lips with a soft sigh.

Sliding his hands to the back of her jaw, he drew Anna closer, the sugary taste of her dissipating the rest of his stress. He smiled when she grew boneless against him, delicate fingers twirling his tie.

Eventually, they had to come up for oxygen, both drawing away with barely audible hums. Anna’s thoroughly addled expression filled him with an odd pride, her lashes fluttering against her reddened cheeks.

"Is it my birthday?“ she breathed. "Did I accidentally invent the cure for cancer? There must be something I did to deserve this."

"Actually, I just... wanted to wish you a good day," Ethan murmured, tucking a lock behind her ear. "We barely saw each other the past few days. I feel like I can’t catch a break at the moment."

Tenderness seeped into her gaze, liquefying the color to a point where he wanted to drown in it and never come out again.

"Did this help?"

He chuckled. "More than you know."

"Well, feel free to do that anyti-"

"Anna?"

Ethan jumped away from her, whirling around.

This is what you get for leaving your office, a perfidious voice nagged at the very back of his tumbling thoughts.

The tip of his ears flushed hot and he had to force himself to not look away from the woman standing a few feet from them, a grin plastered on her face.

"Hi, gran," Anna offered weakly, pushing herself off the wall. "You, um, you remember Doctor Ramsey?"

Greta Dawson gave them both an impish wink. "Hard to forget this one, right?" She looked between the two for a moment. "You don’t call him 'doctor' usually though, do you? Not that I’m one to judge."

Jesus.

Ethan rubbed the flushed back of his neck, desperately trying to find his dignity among the thick snowflakes swirling from the sky.

He had met Anna’s pint-sized grandmother a little over a year ago, after assisting in an operation that had ultimately saved her life. She was a cheeky, terrifying force of nature, intimidating in a very specific way. Mostly because meeting her had felt substantial – even then. Greta was the only relative Anna had left and as such, the older doctor didn’t want to make a bad impression.

Which he probably just did. Wonderful.

Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, he offered his palm. "It’s nice to see you again, Greta." The old woman chortled, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Likewise, Doctor Dreamy.“

Next to him, Anna groaned, burying her face against his chest. "Please take me back to work." Despite his still burning ears, Ethan frowned down at her. "Absolutely not. You worked the longest shifts this week." The blonde answered his frown with one of her own. "Traitor."

Her pout was distracting and painfully cute, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight. "Go," he urged after a moment of indulgence. "Spend some time with your family.“ The jig was already up, so he leaned down to press another gentle kiss to her lips, this one far more modest than he would have liked. "I’ll see you on Monday."

"I have a better idea," Greta interrupted cheerfully, twiddling her fingers at the two doctors. "How about you join our dinner tomorrow?" Opening and closing her mouth, Anna glanced at Ethan while shuffling her feet. "I mean I... I like that thought. We're making lasagna?"

There was that coyness of hers again, making him wonder if she really didn’t know how utterly charming she was – and that there were very few things that he wouldn't do for her.

"I like that thought too,“ he said, his voice quiet but certain, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Call me when you get home?“

"I will." Anna brushed her thumb along his scruffy jaw, smiling hesitantly.

"Have fun, Rookie." His blues flicked over to her grandmother, who was watching their exchange with obvious curiosity. "And, ah, you too, Greta."

The old woman winked once again. "We’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan."

“Damn.”

Anna stared into the mirror, grimacing at the smudge of mascara, just below her left eye. Sighing, she slipped the tiny brush back into the silver tube, exchanging it for q-tip to correct the mistake.

Her fingers were still shaky.

Wiping the black from her skin, she tried not to think about the man waiting for her in the kitchen – a hard thing to do when there were reminders of him all around her.

Her toothbrush rested next to his in a tall cup on the spacious sink.

Her towel occupied a shelf next to the shower.

His cologne and her perfume both permeated the air.

Reminders of him – reminders of them. All things she never would have thought possible half a year ago. Usually, the sight of shared commitment was a beautiful, giddiness-inducing facet of their relationship for her. Tonight, she couldn't help but wonder if Ethan was feeling smothered by it all.

Dinner with her grandmother was a step Anna hadn't even considered until she had caught them red-handed yesterday. Greta knew about Ethan, knew about the chaotic circumstances that had brought them together at last, but she had never expressed the wish to meet him in an official capacity.

Just one of the many firsts that he had been a part of.

Taking a deep breath, the young doctor tossed the q-tip into the trash bin, smoothing her hands along the burgundy fabric of her casual dress and her black tights – a last effort to calm herself.

The hallway outside of the bathroom was much cooler, making Anna shiver as she made her way to the kitchen.

Ethan was leaning against the island, his crisp white oxford peeking through his unbuttoned coat. Tapping away on his phone, he uncrossed his legs, dark slacks rustling quietly. He looked a little bit unreal in the dim light. An apparition, summoned by the farthest reaches of her mind.

“You're staring,” he informed her, finally looking up and interrupting her ogling.

Anna tried her hardest not to appear embarrassed, but her traitorous face heated at the comment anyway.

“You look nice,” she muttered, casting her gaze to the ceiling for a moment before meeting his once again.

Ethan chuckled, pushing himself off the island and crossing the distance between them. “You just stole my line.” His eyes swept over the dress, the blue heavy and eager. “Though 'nice' seems very much insufficient.” Stopping a few inches away from her, he pressed a lingering kiss to Anna's cheekbone. “You're stunning.”

The warmth in his voice broke her heart just a little. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, letting his scent wash over her. Ethan stilled, one of his hands finding the back of her neck and weaving through the loose golden curls there. He didn't say anything right away, granting this moment of respite.

“You're nervous, aren't you.”

Perceptive as ever.

She released a long breath and traced the pattern of his coat. “Not because of the dinner itself.” Lifting her head, she studied his face before pressing on. “I'm just wondering if you're alright. We've really picked up the pace.”

Surprised, Ethan raised his brows. “Are you asking me if I have cold feet?”

“I... suppose I am.”

“Anna.” There was a note of gentle admonishment in his voice, urging her to listen. “You're here every second weekend. Yesterday, I practically begged you to come over, because we're barely seeing each other at work. Does that sound like I'm questioning my decision to be with you?” His lips brushed her temple. “I'll admit that your grandmother terrifies me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know her better.”

“Well, now I feel silly,” she murmured sheepishly.

Ethan huffed out a soft laugh, tickling the shell of her ear. “Maybe I like that about you.” He pulled away, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You and your busy brain.” Lacing their fingers for a brief moment, he nodded his head towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Anna sighed, letting him help her put on her jacket and lead her out of the apartment.

The drive to her grandmother's place felt far too short.

Her leg wiggled every time they passed another green light, forcing Ethan to rest his palm on it to soothe her. He did so wordlessly, keeping it there until he shut off the motor and offering it to her when they walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex. She took it, ever grateful for his quiet support.

The blonde fumbled with her set of keys when they reached the door, almost dropping them when it opened on it's own, revealing a her apron-clad grandmother.

“Gran,” she chastised, letting the old woman pull her into a hug. “Were you waiting by the door?”

“Nonsense, dear,” Greta sniffed, rubbing her back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Anna could practically hear the lie in her affronted tone, masking her pained sigh with a small cough. “Right. A preposterous notion.”

“Just as preposterous as denying me this view for past few months.” Her grandmother gestured over to Ethan, who had watched their exchange with a subdued smile. “The women in our family did always have an eye for the finer things in life, I must say,” she mused. “Come in, you two.”

Anna couldn't help but swallow as she watched Ethan hang up his coat and enter her childhood home. The furniture, the décor and even the comforting smell of chamomile and laundry detergent was the same, reminding her of days past.

With him in the middle of it all, it felt like two separate dimensions colliding and forming something she couldn't quite name. He looked both out of place and like he belonged as they followed Greta into the kitchen.

Handing her grandmother the expensive bottle of Château Monbrison the young doctor had chosen from his wine stash a few hours ago, Ethan rubbed the side of neck. “Anna told me this is your favorite. Thank you again for the invitation.”

Greta regarded him with amusement. “That's a very sweet gesture, Ethan. Tell me, how good is your cooking?”

“I -” At a loss for words, he looked over at Anna.

“He's great,” she affirmed hastily, flushing at her choice of defense. “I mean his cooking. It's great. Very good.”

“Wonderful. How about you help me prepare the rest of the lasagna then, my boy?” Her grandmother patted Anna's shoulder. “Could you be a dear and set the table? I've already left the plates in the dining room.”

“But-”

“Snowbell.” Greta brushed a lock out of her granddaughters face. “Don't worry. You'll get him back without even one hair out of place.”

On her way out of the kitchen, Anna caught Ethan's gaze, the two doctors exchanging a small, equally nervous smile before they were separated.

In the quiet of the dining room, the blonde took a shaky breath, trying to sort her thoughts as she moved plates, glasses and silverware around.

She should have expected this.

Anna trusted and loved her grandmother, dearly, but she could be a bit much at times. Then again, she had never taken such an interest in any of her partners. In Canada, she had been too far away to truly introduce her first long-term boyfriend and once she had finally returned to Boston, the relationship was already over.

And Michael – well. Nothing good had come of being with him.

Ethan was the most complicated man she had ever met by far – but he was her future. The thought strengthened every day she spend with him, every time she looked into his eyes and every time he held her close.

It was far too soon to tell him, however.

And that was exactly why she was nervous about the prospect of her Greta and Ethan alone together.

“You've been holding that fork for quite a while now.”

Startled out of her musings, Anna turned around, almost stumbling into the older doctor. He caught her by the elbows, gently prying the silverware from her fingers and setting it down.

“You're done already?” she wondered, blinking at him.

Ethan chuckled. “It's been a little over ten minutes. Lost in thought again?”

“...Can you blame me?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it wasn't as bad as you probably imagined. You're supposed to show me your room, by the way. Something about it being the prelude to embarrassing baby pictures.”

The blonde groaned, hooking her arm around his and pulling him back into the hallway. “Fine. But you better be gentle. It hasn't been renovated since I was sixteen.”

“I thought you liked it when I'm not gentle,” Ethan teased, earning himself a smack to his chest when they entered the room on the far end.

Closing the battered wood behind them, Anna watched nervously as he moved to the middle of the room, his height dwarfing the old furniture to ridiculous proportions.

His gaze wandered over the walls, the faded teal plastered over by posters and photographs. Taking a few steps closer to the scratched up vanity next to her bed, the older doctor plucked a picture from the frame of the mirror.

She fought to urge to take it from him, mashing her lips together.

Her twenty-year-old self in this particular photo looked like a textbook nerd, much shorter locks braided into two pigtails and clutching her acceptance letter for Boston's med school, while she and Greta grinned at the camera.

Ethan reattached the picture with another chuckle. Then, his gaze fell on her nightstand - and on the book sitting on it.

More specifically, his book.

The unassuming cover was well worn, some of the pages dog-eared. Picking it up, he thumbed through it, raising a brow at Anna.

"What?" she asked a bit too forcefully, cheeks burning.

His mouth twitched, eventually losing the fight against the complacent expression overtaking his features.

"Someone’s a fan," he hummed. "Want to me to sign this one too?"

"That depends," the blonde huffed, crossing her arms. "Do I need to undertake another ridiculous task before you do it?“

Grinning, Ethan tossed the book back and crooked a finger at her. "How about you come over here and kiss me, Rookie? You can decide after if that’s asking too much."

"You’re ridiculous," she murmured, walking up to him hesitantly and slipping her hands around his neck with a pout. Something utterly triumphant twinkled in his deep blues as he craned his head down, meeting her in the middle.

The kiss was soft, slow and warm, tasting faintly of toothpaste. Ethan wrapped his arms around Anna’s waist, lifting her from her tiptoes and setting her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

There was a comfort in his body covering her own, the pleasant buzz of it all coaxing a faint moan from her throat.

Eventually, they had to come up for air, Ethan’s nose nuzzling her cheek.

"You know, you're the first guy to make out with me on this bed," she said thoughtfully and brushed her knuckles over his jaw, enjoying the texture of his beard against her skin.

The attending pushed himself onto one elbow, his free fingers mapping the curve of her hip. "I'm not sure how much more information my ego can take. I'm this close to begging for mercy."

"Oh my god." Anna pulled him back to her by his hair, their laughter mingling until they were breathless once more.

Eventually, Ethan rolled off to the side, facing the younger doctor on the mattress. It was oddly soothing, having him share the tiny bed with her. A peaceful little bubble, after the start of what was bound to be an eventful afternoon.

It gave her courage to ask the question sitting at the forefront of her mind.

“What did you and my grandmother talk about?”

Ethan's jaw tensed for a brief second, his palm lifting to find her face.

“She told me about the state you were in the week after I had left for the Amazon.” His calloused thumb drew a half circle. “And to be more careful with your heart this time around.”

“Or she'll put you six-feet-under?” Anna questioned weakly.

“No.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, she asked me while offering me a glass of wine. She's just worried, princess. And she has every right to be.”

“Ethan...”

“I can't ever take back what I did, Anna,” he sighed. “We both know that. You forgive me so easily every time I mess up and I shouldn't take it for granted. Even your endless patience will run out eventually.”

“You're worth it. You always were.”

Hazel and blue connected, both achingly soft.

“So are you.”

Unspoken words, unspoken emotions, enriched by the dim light falling through pale curtains, drowning the space in silence and contentment.

“Should we get back?” Anna murmured, careful not to disturb the tender moment with her voice. “My grandmother is probably waiting for us.”

“In a minute.” Forehead tipping down to meet hers, Ethan dragged her close, breathing her in. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

A/N: So cheesy. Was a lot of fun to write though :3

#ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices oh #open heart #open heart 2 #playchoices #choices: stories you play #my writing #can you tell I enjoy Hallmark movies and bad humor #probably

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writtenjewels · 3 years

Text

Escort part 6

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

John was scared as hell asking the man to come over. He never had company over. Letting Kaidan see his model collection, his hamster and fish, his framed Blasto posters, wearing a damn hoodie, he'd never been so exposed and vulnerable. It was so off-putting.

But Kaidan had liked all of it. He had even fed into John's collection by buying him a new model. He teased John about the VI that fed the fish for him. All night John debated on changing into his escort clothes but then Kaidan would look at him and make him feel like the hoodie was the sexiest thing he owned. Kaidan even liked the steak sandwiches although they weren't anywhere near as good as something John could've found at a restaurant.

Kaidan made him feel like he didn't have to be anything, that just John was enough. Which was a very foreign feeling to him. His clients always laid out exactly what they expected from him. But Kaidan never asked him for anything.

After dinner they made out on the couch some more. This was all strange for him, too. Even with clients who wanted to fuck him, John always maintained a certain level of control. He prepared ahead of time, undressed himself, and got into position. With Kaidan he was unsure of what he was supposed to be doing-- where to put his hands, how to position his body. Kaidan would end up guiding him and to John's surprise, he liked that. He couldn't imagine ever letting a client direct where John should put his hands the way Kaidan did, let alone enjoy it.

Eventually they just cuddled together on the couch, his arm around Kaidan as the other man leaned on him. “Do you have work tomorrow?” Kaidan asked.

“Not really. I usually space them out. Sometimes I don't work for a week, sometimes it's every other night. Depends.”

“That sounds kind of nice,” Kaidan hummed. “You set your own hours, take time off whenever you want.” He felt around for John's free hand and squeezed. “And you choose the work you want, right?”

“Right,” John agreed. “I don't do anything I don't want to do.”

“Neither do I.” Kaidan lifted his head off John's shoulder and he turned so their eyes met. “I had a feeling you would ask me over when I bought that model. I... I think I was hoping you would. I wanted to see you like this.” He tugged on the bottom of John's hoodie meaningfully. “I like this space nerd who owns a hamster and has Blasto movie posters on his walls. I like the man who needs a VI to feed his fish. And I like that you showed all this to me.”

“Yeah,” John gulped. “I got that impression.”

“You look nervous,” Kaidan noted with a wry smile.

“It may surprise you to know that I've never done this.” John swallowed and tried to explain it properly. “With my clients, the sex is still good, but it's not... I'm there to help them feel safe being out of the closet, or to just experiment. I've never wanted someone before.” His eyes dropped for a moment before flicking back up to Kaidan's face. Kaidan was watching him, the warmth in his eyes touching deep in John's body. “I... I want you, Kaidan,” he whispered. “Spend the night with me. We don't have to have sex; I just want you here.”

Kaidan let out a long sigh. His hands wandered down John's body to his hips, pulling the man into his lap. John willingly settled there with their foreheads touching. Kaidan then stood up, hoisting John up with him. The move surprised him and sent a quick shock of arousal through his body. No one ever carried him before. It was hot as hell.

“Where's your bedroom?” Kaidan asked in that husky tone of his.

“That way.” John jerked his head in the general direction. Kaidan actually managed to carry him all the way there, which was very impressive. John couldn't resist squeezing his arms to get a feel for those powerful muscles. They got inside and Kaidan dropped him. He lay there in a winded daze and watched Kaidan take off his shoes. John wiggled his own bare toes playfully.

“Should we turn that music off?” Kaidan wondered.

“There's a control over here.” John gestured to the radio by his bed. Kaidan turned it off and then reached to loosen his trousers. “Kaidan, wait,” John protested, even as his body heated eagerly. “We don't have to.”

“You said that already,” Kaidan reminded him. “I don't know about you, but I find sleeping in my trousers uncomfortable. Besides...” His eyes glinted mischievously. “With how you dress, I feel like I've practically seen you naked already.”

“That's the idea,” John assured him. He stretched out a little, watching with an increasing heart-rate as Kaidan got his trousers off. Somehow the unassuming gesture was hotter than any strip-tease. And when he saw Kaidan in his boxers, John couldn't help but laugh. “I can't believe you're teasing me about my tight clothes when you wear those.”

“They're comfortable,” Kaidan defended with a chuckle. He got into bed and ran a hand along John's side. He tried not to move in case that made Kaidan stop. “Why did you take the job to escort me?” Kaidan asked him.

“ 'Our friend Kaidan is a good man',” John recited from memory. “ 'He works hard, busts his ass, and never asks for anything. We want him to have a night where he can enjoy himself for a change. Please give him a great evening'. I wanted to meet the guy they were talking about.” He shivered a little seeing Kaidan looming above him. “I guess I should have paid more attention to the 'never asks for anything' part.”

“Enough people ask things of you, John,” Kaidan said, his hands now moving to push the hoodie off John's shoulders. “Between the military and this job, someone is always wanting something from you. I didn't want to add to that.”

John was a little stunned. How did Kaidan see him so clearly? The man shifted so a knee was between John's legs and he automatically spread them farther apart. His hands shook as he lifted them to grasp the hem of Kaidan's shirt.

“Maybe we can both stand to be a little more selfish.” Kaidan was closer now, his nose brushing John's, his lips so close. John had no basis for comparison with this. His whole body felt alert and the slightest touch from Kaidan was a pleasurable shock to his nerves.

Then their lips sealed and Kaidan's arms wrapped around him. He lifted a leg to go around Kaidan's waist. Kaidan's hand gripped his thigh to keep him in place.

“Kaidan,” he breathed out. “Go slowly.”

“I will,” Kaidan assured him. He pulled back enough to look at John's face. “You aren't 'prepared' for me?”

John had to laugh. How could he have possibly been prepared for a man like Kaidan Alenko? “Not even a little.”

#mshepard #mshenko #kaidan alenko #kaidan x shepard #au

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

Text

I’ve got BatFam on the mind.

Jason sinks back against his couch, humming pleasantly, and he’s just about to kick his feet atop the ottoman and open the new book he’s been eager to dig into for a month now when a quick, patterned knock on his apartment door interrupts his eased thoughts, startling him briefly before he sighs loudly.

He’s just decided to ignore it when the knocking continues, accompanied, this time, by a small voice he, unfortunately, recognizes almost immediately.

“Jason?”

He makes sure the groan that builds from the back of his throat is dramatically loud and equally as long as he drops his book on the abandonded couch behind him and starts to the door, undoing the locks and pulling the door open with a familair frown reserved specifically for the damned “family” of his.

“Replacement,” Jason bites out, fingers curled lazily around the edge of the door.

Tim’s drenched before him, shuddering slightly with his arms wrapped tightly around his too-slender frame, and his normal, calculated composure looks to be nudging the brink of breaking. He squeezes under Jason’s arm, letting himself into the apartment, and Jason drags a deep sigh out.

“I need your help.”

“Did you already forget where the door is?” Jason asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Because it’s right there, and I’m happy to escort you out.”

Unfazed, Tim slows his pacing down, stopping in the center of Jason’s entryway. “Dick’s been kidnapped.”

Jason rolls his eyes, a bad habit he hasn’t cared in the slightest to remedy. He drags narrow eyes up and down Tim’s uniform. “And I care because?” he draws out, arching both brows.

Tim sighs at this, and if Jason weren’t borderline dangerously annoyed, he’d be a little impressed that he’s managed to just barely get under Tim’s skin.

“Look, seeking out your help made the most sense logistically.”

“Logistically,” Jason parrots back flatly.

“You’re the closest to our location.”

“And, you came here instead of helping,” Jason points out, motioning toward Tim’s suit. “Why waste the time? You’re capable of helping him yourself.” He’s hoping, smally, that the fraction of a compliment will boost Tim’s ego up just enough to send him out the door, and yet, Tim visibly deflates before him, tugging his mask off and coughing into the crook of his arm.

“I shouldn’t be out.”

“Because you look as if you took a deep dive in the Gotham River in the dead-ass middle of winter?”

“And because I have the flu.”

Jason frowns sharply, eyes flicking from one too-flushed cheek to the other. Without thinking fully, he crosses the room and slaps a palm to Tim’s forehead, finding him alarmingly hot to the touch despite the icy water dripping off him.

“You do remember that you’re kind of missing your spleen, right?” Jason questions lowly, stepping back to further assess Tim’s condition through gaze alone.

Shuddering, Tim hugs himself tightly, eyes casting to the ground. “Dick asked me to come out and help. I told him it may not be a good idea because,” he pauses, turning to hack harshly into his fist, “well, that. But he insisted.”

“He insisted,” Jason repeats darkly, eyes flashing a brief red.

Tim meekly nods, swaying on his feet, and Jason growls in the back of his throat, guiding Tim to the bathroom. “Christ. Hot shower and change into something dry,” Jason spits out, already whipping toward his bedroom for his suit. He’s quick slipping it on, easy muscle memory, and he’s just slipped a few guns into the holsters at his sides when Tim clears his throat.

“You’re going to help?”

“Apparently,” Jason grumbles, hands adjusting the clip of rubber bullets. “The last thing I want is you keeling over in my apartment and the big, bad, Bat blaming me for it. Plus, I now have a reason to rip Dick a new one for being a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks,” Tim sighs, visibly relieved. “There’s a dock with a wooden boat house at Gotham River, east side.”

“Got it,” Jason starts, pasuing, mask only pulled over his forehead. “Hang on,” he stops his quick movement toward the door, whipping around toward Tim. “Did you actually deep-dive in the Gotham River when it’s close to the negatives outside?”

“Got dizzy,” Tim mutters, coughing. “I kind of fell.”

“Fucking hell,” Jason curses, snagging the keys to his bike before stalking out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

***

“Do you have a plan?”

Jason works through a colorful string of hushed curses at the sudden sound of Tim’s rough voice in his ear, forgetting that he’s never actually disconnected his comm.

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyeing the boat house from his corner cover behind a brick wall. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping or some shit?”

“I wanted to help you. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m borrowing your laptop so I can have eyes on multiple locations.”

Jason’s working through a grunt that he doesn’t mind, but his brain wraps back around unspoken details. “I have my laptop password protected.”

“’I am the Red Hood’ isn’t exactly a hard password to crack.”

Jason shakes his head, a huff slipping past his covered lips. “I’m moving far away from all of you after this,” he mutters, standing from his cover and approaching the boat house.��

“Hood, what’s the plan? You’re wide open right now.”

“About that,” Jason draws out, stopping before the wooden door. He can hear multiple voices behind the rickety walls, Dick’s voice standing out loudly among the others. “I think I’ll just walk in, say a little hello.”

Tim groans in his ear, muttering how he should have ignored logistics to find someone more competent, and Jason laughs lowly before kicking the door wide open, a sly smile curling against his covered lips as multiple men with guns whip toward the door, numerous barrels aimed right at him.

Dick’s in the center of the room tied to a chair. His face is beginning to fade to blues and blacks, yet the look of pure, innocent surprise on his face completely contradicts the entire situation.

“Hood?”

“I’d say long time no see,” Jason starts, one hand slowly moving to ghost above a gun at his waist, “but you’re a little hard to make out with all the swelling and bruising.”

Dick rolls his eye that’s not swollen to hell, and Jason starts forward ignoring the rings of clicks that echo from every gun that’s pointed toward him.

“Hey, aren’t you the Red Hood?”

Jason cocks his head to the side, turning toward the voice. “Well, I do have a hood, and last I checked, it’s definitely red.”

“Watch it, smartass. What business do you have with this one?” The man speaking, some gruff, bulky blond with distasteful tattoos littering his fingers, motions toward Dick with the barrel of his gun, and Jason tenses slightly, his hand now laying fully atop the gun at his waist.

“Bird infestation,” Jason grumbles. “Gotta get this one to get rid of the other.”

“Red Robin?” Dick calls out, jerking against the ropes that have his hands tied tightly behind the chair. “Is he okay?”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Jason mutters, and Tim crackles in his ears.

“Hood, I don’t like these odds. I’m going to call for back up.”

“No need, Replacement.” Jason drags a slow gaze back toward Dick, and though they disagree on 90% of things, they still, somehow, share this odd ability to communicate via look alone, and Dick gives a single nod to his silent question. “I have help.”

“Jason-”

Jason slips both guns out from his holsters and stretches his arms out wide and open. “Let’s go, boys.”

The next few seconds are loud, gun shots ringing out from every direction, and Jason feeds off the familair sound, adding into the mix with his rubber bullets that don’t miss. Dick, as he predicted, has broken the wooden chair he’s been tied to and has managed to wiggle his wrists free from the ropes. Jason covers him with one gun while targeting those running toward him with his other.

The fight lasts a minute and forty-three seconds, with Jason and Dick ending on top, multiple unconsious men at their feet.

“I’ve already notified Gotham PD,” Dick starts, rubbing at his wrists as he steps over a few bodies. “Where’s Tim? He was fighting outside, and one of these assholes broke my comm.” Dick’s tense, fear laced heavily in his voice, and Jason steadies his eyes into a sharp glare.

“He’s back at my apartment, sick-” is all he manages out before Dick’s racing out of the boat house. “-as fuck, no thanks to you,” Jason finishes flatly to himself. He slips his bike keys from his pocket and starts out the door when he can hear sirens in the distance.

***

Jason makes it back to his apartment a few seconds after Dick, and he’s making a very serious mental note to move far away when he slips through the open door to see Dick hovering over Tim, pressing a palm to his forehead, counting Tim’s pulse with his free hand.

“Dick, I’m fine,” Tim whines, swatting at Dick’s hands, and Jason pulls his mask off and cocks his head to the side.

“Spleenless, the flu is not ‘fine,’“ Jason gripes out, and Dick whips around to him, eyes wide, before dragging a quick gaze back to Tim.

“The flu? Tim, what the hell?”

Frowning, Jason approaches the two, eyeing Tim dangerously. “You said he knew.”

“I calculated a few scenarios,” Tim starts, coughing weakly. “I figured you’d be more likely to help Dick if you were pissed at him.”

“What kind of fucking backwards logic-”

“-Dick!”

Jason’s unable to finish his thoughts when Dick drops to a knee in front of him, one hand curled tightly around his abdomen, his face pinched in pain.

“Dick,” Tim presses again, shoving the laptop from his lap and leaning over the side of the couch to get a better look. “What’s wrong?”

Jason’s seen some shit when it comes to this twisted family he can’t quite get out of, but he can truly say that he’s never seen Dick’s stoic composure crumble under the weight of injury, and his eyes grow wide all on their own, a lump building in his throat.

“Nothing,” Dick grunts out around clenched teeth, his jaw a hard, sharp line, and Jason blinks around the muted grip of fear, groaning instead and pulling Dick to his feet despite Dick’s hiss of pain at his side.

“Alright, Dickie Bird. Since my home is now apparently the house of the hurt and helpless, let’s look you over. One bird down in my apartment would be bad, but two? No fucking way.”

He calls out for Tim to take some damn medicine as he drags Dick into the bathroom, pulling at Dick’s suit until the top half’s pulled down, revealing dark purple bruising littering Dick’s sides.

“Your ribs?” Jason guesses, and Dick nods, swallowing back a moan of pain when Jason presses lightly on Dick’s sides.

“Doesn’t seem broken, but we’ll wrap it just in case. I’m sure Alfred will personally kill me if I don’t.” Jason moves for his first aid kit, very much aware but choosing not to adress the hard eyes watching his every movement.

“Jay-”

“I don’t want to hear it, D,” Jason says, snagging some large bandages he can wrap around Dick’s torso.

“Thank you.”

Jason groans loudly, crouching down to start wrapping Dick’s ribs. “I said I didn’t want to hear it. What’s up with you birds and your piss poor hearing?”

“I really didn’t know that Tim was sick. He seemed off, but he was insistent that we go and investigate the boat house. He said he had reason to believe they were smuggling drugs underneath the floorboards.” Dick hisses sharply when Jason tightens the bandages, promptly shutting him up.

“I should have known that your mother hen instincts would have never let typhoid Timmy go out while sick.”

Dick rolls his eyes around a wince, hand ghosting across the bandages when Jason stands up and backs away to critique his work.

“Things just got a little out of hand.”

“Clearly,” Jason says dryly, and Dick frowns deeply when he stands, the pain pulling at his sides hot and overwhelming.

“I’ll call a cab-”

“-don’t,” Jason sighs loudly. “It’s late. You both can stay, but your asses are gone in the morning.”

The smile that spreads across Dick’s lips is blindingly familiar, and Jason finds he’s at ease with Dick’s boyish charm overcoming him once more.

They slip out of the bathroom, and Jason starts to his room to get a change of clothes for Dick, pausing in the doorway to see Tim passed out on his bed, his breaths loud, congested.

“I can move him to the couch,” Dick offers from behind him, and Jason only shakes his head silently, padding quietly into the room. “You both can sleep in here. He’s already infected my bed, anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Jason sighs, only faintly aware of how many times he truly sighs whenever one of the damn birds is around. He shoves clean clothes into Dick’s arms before stalking around him to change his own clothes, maybe take a hot shower to chase away the lingering chill, and finally, hopefully, start his book.

“Jay?”

Jason stops, one foot already in the bathroom. “If you look at me with those stupid, puppy eyes and say ‘thank you’ one more fucking time, I’ll make sure your ribs actually break.”

Dick smiles wide and holds a hand up in mock defense before he slips into the bedroom and nudges the door closed, and Jason shakes his head, his own breath of a smile flicking at the corners of his lips as he closes the door behind him.

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kakashiswilloffire · 3 years

Text

Friend Killer Kakashi

ao3

words: 2.2k

warnings: angst, mention of gore, mention of vomit, no comfort

He was ready to crawl out of his own skin. His whole body flushed with waves of heat, prickling uncomfortably in his chest, like thousands of pins jabbing both inside and outside of himself. He stopped, gripping the counter to hold himself steady while he dragged shallow breaths into his lungs. He knew he needed to take a deep breath, he was telling himself to take a deep fucking breath, even just one, why can’t he just even breathe correctly, how the fuck was he supposed—

The sound of his fist interrupted him before he’d even realized he had struck out. Knowing it would be several minutes before the pain really set in, he smacked his hand against the counter again and shook his head viciously. Silver strands, oilier than he usually let them get, stung as they met skin while the weight of his hair shifted.

He sucked air thickly into his nostrils then pawed at his nose, grimacing at the spices that overwhelmed the air around him. He tossed the pan into the sink, not caring that it still sizzled or that the oil splashed onto the cold tiles beneath him. He was trying to make pan fried eggplant to go with the premade miso soup he’d picked up last week. It had been a shitty week and he just wanted to make his favorite meal to make everything hurt a little bit less. There was no way it’d be as good as what Gai made, or whatever Dai had done when he first made it for him, but Kakashi figured it would do, and since it would be the first thing he had cooked himself all week, there should be some sense of achievement and dopamine to relish in when it was done. Unfortunately, it had gone terribly.

He couldn’t remember exactly what spices went on the eggplant. Salt, pepper, minced garlic, and then Gai would riff from there. Kakashi hated that—he was fine as long as he could follow a recipe. Gai, however, could just pour a splash of soy, or a squeeze of lemon, or even a drizzle of honey on anything and it was phenomenal, and also, unrepeatable. He could remember what the version he wanted tonight should taste like, and it didn’t matter what bottles he shook out into the pan, it never smelled right. The oil just kept popping onto his arms and hands, and the eggplant got slimier, and everything started to smell way too strong.

Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, and fucking garbage at cooking.

Whatever.

Running his hand along his forehead, he tried to find a single thought to focus on rather than the swirling mess in his head. Rin’s death a few months ago had hit him hard, much like he had hit her. He knew Gai hated to hear him think like that, but she would be alive if he hadn’t been there. If his hand hadn’t crushed through her chest, her ribs scraping along—

He lurched forward, the smell of the kitchen and the visceral memories getting to him at last. His shoulders jerked erratically as he retched into the tiny sink then sunk to his knees. The cold of the floor helped ground him while he wrapped his muscled arms around his stomach, leaning his head against the cabinet until the room stopped spinning.

Pathetic.

Obito would be absolutely pissed to know this was what he died for.

Gai wouldn’t be back from his mission for at least four more days. Kakashi was on a temporary leave pending the results of the investigation into Rin’s death. Ibiki had tried to reassure him the other day that unofficially it was looking good, and should turn out in his favor soon. He was almost certain to be found not at fault. Kakashi had scoffed—even if that was the official ruling, her murder was entirely his fault.

While they weren’t living together, Gai had taken it upon himself years ago to have a spare key, or maybe several spare keys, to his apartment copied and he kept one in a pocket in that garish green spandex at all times. With everything going on, Gai had been by every other day or so that he was in the village. The couch still had a crumpled blanket at one end he had used the last time he stayed overnight, and the one throw pillow with the Hatake crest that Gai wouldn’t let him get rid of. He tossed it out of his way as he flopped down on his back, letting his legs kick up and rest over the top of the dingy couch.

Why did anyone bother with him? Why would Ibiki go to the effort of leaking confidential information about his investigation to him? Why would Asuma invite him out for drinks every Friday night? Why would Kurenai and Genma leave bottles of sake in his mailbox with notes that everything would be fine? Why would Gai.. anything relating to him?

He couldn’t even hold the memories back long enough to successfully make dinner. He hadn’t even reheated the miso soup, and that was only two steps. He couldn’t save Obito, he couldn’t save Rin, he couldn’t convince Gai to leave well enough alone.

What if Gai was next?

Fuck.

He couldn’t let Gai be next. There were a lot of things he had failed at, but damned if he wouldn’t succeed in this. He could not, under any circumstances, let Gai any closer, any further into his life. The further away he could get the overly-enthusiastic shinobi, the better.

He nodded, swinging his legs around to the edge of the couch and letting that propel him into a seated position from which he sprang up. He walked over to the tiny end table and wrenched open the single overstuffed drawer, digging through for a pad of paper and the first writing instrument he could find, a blue pen with the academy’s logo printed on it.

Gai—

I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to stay away from me. It’s for your own good. No one close to me is safe, even from me.

Sorry. Please understand.

—Kakashi

He read over the messily scrawled note, then tore the sheet off the pad and crumbled it in a fist. There’s no way Gai could read that and not have about a billion questions. Especially with how they had relied on each other through the years, from Dai’s death to Rin’s, this wouldn’t be remotely good enough to get Gai to stay away.

He sat down on the couch again, tapping the pen absentmindedly against the faded lined paper. What do you say to someone to convince them to be done with you completely?

When the key scraped into the lock, he froze.

The door swung wide open, Gai slumping into the apartment. His jumpsuit was nicked and torn and his hair didn’t have its usual luster. He was clearly exhausted, though not chakra exhausted. Kakashi felt the familiar pangs of panic begin to hit—how was he back so soon?

“Hey, ‘Kashi. The client blew the mission terms totally out of proportion—he made it seem like it’d be almost an A rank, and instead it was like a grueling C rank. We’re still not sure if the pay will be adjusted accordingly, but Ebisu is arguing it shouldn’t be because we did still run into trouble—Stone ninja near the border tried to take Chouza out. Recognized him somehow, but no worries, Konoha’s magnificent Green Beast was on the scene and we handled them without any major issues.” He grinned and flexed, posing for a moment before relaxing now that he had reached his destination and sliding his vest off and onto the hook by the door.

“How have you been? You eaten yet? Yakiniku is running a special according to Chouza—he asked me to join him for a post-mission meal and I told him I’d have to swing by here and see if you wanted to tag along. You like their short rib, right? Or are you still on the vegetarian kick?”

It never failed to impress Kakashi how Gai could fill a space, whether it be with his words, his personality, or his posing. No matter how he did it, though, it always was genuine and warm, and it was nearly impossible to maintain the solemn composure he frequently fronted. They made a nice contrast as a pair. Shame they would never have the chance to explore the friendship further.

He looked down at the crumpled paper on the ground and kicked it under the couch, setting the pad and pen aside. Unfortunately, he was going to have to explain in person.

He walked past Gai without making eye contact, the other man stepping out of his way without resistance. He lifted the vest off the hook next to his own vest, brought it briefly to his own chest, and immediately regretted it when the scent of his rival slammed into him. Once again, he shook his head vigorously, then shoved the vest back at Gai.

“Get out.”

He laughed, taking the vest back and slipping it on without understanding. “Want yours as well?” he asked, reaching for the door.

Kakashi felt flushed again, realizing that Gai meant for them to get dinner together. He walked back into the small living room, keeping his back to the door.

“Don’t need it. Get out.”

Gai’s laugh died in his chest, questions rising to the surface. “I… You okay? Did something happen while I was gone? Your investigation results? I told Ibiki to send word if they made the announcement, that asshole—”

“No, Gai. Nothing happened. I just…” Kakashi swallowed and felt his heart frost over. “Just did some thinking. Realized I’m better off without you.”

He scoffed. “Very funny, Kakashi. Come on, grab a jacket or something, Chouza said he’d wait on me to get back.”

“I mean it, Gai. You’re holding me back. The stupid challenges, do you think I actually care? I’ve always been stronger than you, and now that I’ve got the Sharingan, it’s comical, competing against you. I can see all your moves from miles away. You broadcast like a bull. You’re loud, annoying, and a useless ninja. I want you out of my life.”

There was silence for more than a full minute. It might have been as long as the two of them had gone without speaking, ever. Then Gai crossed to Kakashi in two steps, grabbing his left shoulder and spinning him around to face him.

“I know you’re not saying all that ‘cause you mean it, Kakashi. Look me in the eyes and think about this.”

Kakashi steeled himself, making full eye contact with the single grey eye. “Why don’t you think about it, Gai? Honestly? What kind of a ninja can’t even use ninjutsu? Everyone’s just humoring you and letting you make a fool of yourself. You’re a walking lesson in how to not be a shinobi.”

Gai blinked hard, his eyes beginning to shimmer. He cocked his head to the side, his grip on his rival’s shoulder only strengthening.

“’Kashi, I know things are hard for you. I know your brain lies to you sometimes. It’s okay. Listen, we’ll stay here tonight, I’ll cook, we can watch a movie or something, I’ll keep watch so you can sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning. There’s no pressure. I care about you, Kakashi. Let me help you.”

His eyes were swimming now, the passion making tears roll slowly down his face. The silver-haired man refused to move or answer. Swallowing, he made one last effort to persuade him. “Kakashi… please. Don’t do this. I love you.”

Kakashi’s heart, freeze dried, now shattered, crumbling into a powder and blowing away on a light breeze. Of course Gai loved him, and he loved Gai, but could Gai really mean that he… could he love him the way?—

Impossible.

No. Of course not. And even if he did, that just put him in all the more danger.

His resolve strengthened, he scowled back. “Fuck off, Gai. A ninja that only uses taijutsu is useless in battle. Don’t you remember how your dad died? Couldn’t save himself, could barely save you. What did you even do to try and help him?”

He was grateful for the fist that slammed into his jaw, shutting him up and knocking him into the wall.

“Fuck off, Hatake.”

He only dimly registered the door slamming, and possibly coming off its’ hinges. After a beat, a glint of silver flew through the air and lodged into the wall directly opposite the door. Slowly, he gathered himself up and limped over to it, realizing with a sharp ache that it was the key to his apartment. Turning to the mirror propped near the door, he stared down the version of him with grey circles under his eyes, thumbing at the blood growing at the corner of his mouth.

Friend-Killer Kakashi was starting to sound more like him by the moment.

#kakashi can't cook #kakagai #kakagai angst #kakashi angst #kakashi hatake #maito gai #might guy #kakashi oneshot

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mymadmedleyw · 3 years

Text

Death

(ao3), belongs under Certain Moment of Time, could be read independently, just as each for the days will be shorts, but all together forming a whole picture

(As this is the last chapter within the 'Going Angst Week 2021', a little reminder about the right order in reading the chapters chronologically (I suggest CMOT link): 4, 6, 2, 5, 3, and 7, 1)

tw: miscarriage

---

Blood. One could say after seeing it many times, sensing its rusty, salty odour within the air might have lost the sensibility to it after a while. But it never ceased on the weight if it was about loss, about death.

Then it always changed to the horrible, suffocating disinfectant scent with the white surrounding and the sound of silent sobs. Just as this time. They didn't even dare to count for how many occasions they ended up here, broken and devastated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" mumbled for like the thousand times the hollow voice. "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have-" the sentence trailed off by another chuckling, squeezing hard on his hand that was holding hers, never letting it go.

Every attempt, every hopeful try led back here and- and it just twisted his heart, seeing, again and again, the slightly greyishly paled skin that years ago was beaming. Years ago…

Suddenly the picture of the small child in her arms came back, like that could have been a mirage. Sadly, he was well aware it wasn't, that happened, but- what he had done wrong?

Vlad pressed his forehead on her, taking the same question that he was asking from himself during the past few years. Why he hadn't told her? It was the same damn question, but with a different meaning this time. Time… yes, that it was.

He clearly could remember the day in the hospital bed, staring at the black and white photograph, bringing for them good news again… and then he couldn't tell what had happened, but he had woken up with years of memories in his mind and- and then as he had sat up, holding his throbbing head someone put a hand on his shoulder, asking with the greatest concern if he was okay.

It had needed hours to understand it wasn't a dream, and by lunch – made by the most amazing woman on the Earth – his mind settled too.

As much weird it was, but this was the truth. Madeline Masters. His wife. Also aware of his state – that they, according to his new-old memories, together tried to keep at bay. He knew he lied to her about its seriousness. That she only was informed about the simply side-effects: floating, invisibility and intangibility, sometimes glowing hands – but she had no conscious about the rest, about the other form… (which learning from a memory surprised Vlad too).

He kept then on with that lie, just as with the other one too, that somehow, he remembered a time when everything was different.

It worked for years. To tell the truth, Vlad forgot everything after their first positive test, even after the second, or the third, but-

Then he didn't dare to count. He couldn't recall anymore the days when she was happy – except in that other life. He slowly was destroying her, breaking the sweet image of his love… He tried to tell her several times to give up, but as much as stubborn she was, like feeling she should have been a mother, she never listened.

Then he eventually had run some tests (surprisingly facing with the result wasn't even his worst day, because his worst day was now…). The accident in the lab, five years ago ruined his biology. It was his fault. Vlad had been on to tell her, several times really, that they- that they wouldn't ever have a child, but- but he had been afraid. He still was afraid. He was a coward, fearing to lose her, so then he never told her, but now…

"Daniel…" a hollow, weak breath was formed into a name. "I thought- I chose- I really thought this time…"

"It's okay…" Vlad whispered, fighting against the suffocating guilt.

Daniel… he almost could imagine a view of a boy with her kindness, smartness and maybe with his steel bright eyes, and-

A soft sniffling broke the silence in the room, he knew it would take days and weeks to calm her down (or months, especially that this time she really had hoped…). But then she would return to her obsessed determines, again, not giving up until she would be able to fight for it…

But Vlad couldn't watch it, not again. This time, it had endangered her life too. He just couldn't let it happen, not anymore… especially as the date slipped into his mind. It was the same as on the letter, containing the black and white picture of their second child… she would have been expecting her second and-

He bit his lips as hard as it drew blood, rusty, salty and sinner. The sound of the woman, the so loved Maddie died away in a faint snuffling, undoubtedly dreaming about a great life he couldn't give her… Even though Vlad was conscious of their reality, he still wished to fulfil her dreams…

Wish… suddenly his eyes snapped open, remembering word-to-word to his half-mumbled sentence before everything had changed and he had woken up in this dream (nightmare…).

Would it be that easy? –Vlad wondered, sceptical about such childish way, but then he grabbed on it, tight, as ridiculous it sounded, and he'd have literally killed to make her happy. So then, he opened his mouth, already putting together what he wanted to say, and then-

"Won't work." stopped him an abrupt voice, then the owner cleared it. "I set the rules with Desiree. She is not allowed to grant any timeline-altering wishes, unless I allow it." Vlad blinked at the sudden presence of someone else, searching with his eyes immediately to catch the person, but there was no sign of anyone, just a quiet ticking sound was telling someone was definitely there.

A moment passed in silence, making Vlad wondering about if he hallucinated the voice, but then it spoke again. "Clockwork, by the way, Master of Time – though it's rather a given title than a name. Theatrical, isn't it?" Vlad scoffed at the unmistakable enjoying waving of the words, whoever this ghost was – because, based on the invisibility it was undoubtedly an unearthly creature from the other realm –, he clearly was amused by this scenario.

"What do you-?" Vlad started, frustrated by the spectre's presence and mocking.

"Want?" was Vlad interrupted. "From you? Nothing… albeit your stubborn wish created a glitch that didn't suppose to exist. A knot, that tangled the flow of events, blinding me. In short," the ghost took a break. "you scarred the time." well, that definitely sounded like a lecture… but then, the title slipped into his mind, along with the accounting for: Master of Time.

"You can make it back…" Vlad pieced together. "You can change on the time, change on this all." he couldn't tell if it scared him or filled with him hope, but definitely that drew out a way – more like an alternative – after the wish-one. For a short time, the ticking skipped a beat, like the ghost would have been stuck on a thought, but then talked again.

"Yes, I can change on this all." was Vlad's sentence, almost exactly repeated. He didn't have to be a genius, to feel it wasn't an admitting. "But I won't." was it added, not even a second later. "I might be responsible to watch over the timelines, and every single outcome, but on this, I am afraid, I can't do anything. You created it, it's your duty to fix it, and decide." Vlad stunned. Decide what exactly? This or- that? It wasn't an actual question, he could give the answer easily, but-

Suddenly he averted his gaze from the space where he suspected the ghost was floating invisibly – getting on his nerves by that – then he looked back to the woman, gazing at his wife, and gently got out a long curly lock of hair that fell into her face. She seemed so calm, pale, yes, shattered by the tired wrinkles under her closed eyes, and…

"I see you already made your decision." Vlad heard the cursed voice again. He didn't have to guess to know his eyes were burning red, clenching his jaw and fighting inside to not lash out at the ghost, transforming to his other outlook and end the ghost, it that was even possible in case of a timeless existence. Was it really counted as entertainment for him? This?!

"It's not a decision." Vlad spitted.

"No, it really isn't." said the ghost sternly, accompanied by a sound that gave an impression like an old clock would have been adjusted, bored by the current discussion as if it had been something obvious, or expected. "But I am seeing no future over this certain moment, neither in this time or your original one. Just imagine, how it could be to be blind after millennia. Curious, I was for centuries to learn what it caused. Well, it turned out it was just a desperate hybrid's wish, fighting against his true nature, cornering himself to endless suffering than accepting the new him… comical, isn't it?"

It felt harder and harder to hold back and stay unmoved listen to the words, but as much as he loathed hearing it, if this Clockwork could mean the solution from this, then-

"Besides, what happens now, how you decide, is beyond me, I can't see through it, until it happens." defined the being, at the same time out of nowhere a swirling green-ness formed in the air. It was similar to the Proto-Portal, which Vlad had seen many years ago, but this was enough big for anyone to walk through it. "It's either this time or the other one, the knot you created still makes the connection available. But it has to end. Only one could remain."

Vlad swallowed, lost in the neon colour, like an unescapable doom that followed him everywhere. He remembered his time, his muscles still could recall the seizures, the endless days in that hospital room, and reading about his friends' perfect life against his… the ghost was right, he had been desperate, now he could control his other side, but it could be only thanked to Maddie, this Maddie… in that other world, he was nothing but- he was literally nothing… here, now, on the other hand, he had the love of his life, but still-

Suddenly, he put together no matter how he'd choose, what path he'd take, it would turn his heart a stone, destroying by the ghost's words the other time. But then, he took a glimpse at the resting woman, at his Maddie, silently sleeping unaware of another being's presence in the room, only lost in a dream-world her mind created. For a moment, he wondered about the possibilities, about the alternatives, but then, hard, Vlad realised it was out of the question.

He never felt his limbs as heavy as he stood up from the chair, earlier placed beside the hospital bed, to mean support Maddie after the loss... And he never felt more hatred towards anyone – even towards Jack – that now took over his entire body about the ghost.

"I really hope, you are able to see your so cherished future now." Vlad cursed, the sourness and hurt suffocated him from inside as he took a step towards the greenness.

"I do." acknowledged the Master of Time, but not spilling anything else, what it would mean or how things would turn out. But Vlad knew even if the ghost was aware of some outcome, he wouldn't be informed about those. As Vlad disappeared behind the gate between the two realities, he took himself a promise, to somehow, when everything had settled, whatever it would take, he would find Clockwork and claim justice.

#going angst week 2021 #going angst week #danny phantom #vlad masters #clockwork

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uglymanchronicles · 3 years

Text

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

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

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

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

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

#my writing #urban fantasy #ugly man chronicles: reignition

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