#this is genuinely driving me insane cause this is now a pattern. again this feels so intentional i can barely believe its real | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 3 years

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offer me that deathless death

Jaskier has never shared the bed with a man before. Geralt is more than happy to take him every step of the way, allowing him to explore his body and the pleasure it can bring him.

[Written for the “Inexperinced” prompt for the milestone celebration]

(10.9k words, explicit, also on ao3)

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There were so, so many things that Geralt absolutely adored about Jaskier.

The look in his impossibly-blue eyes when the witcher kissed him and then broke away, so full of love that it almost hurt sometimes; the softness of his skin under Geralt’s fingertips, warm and smooth and flawless; the scent of something sweet and almost intoxicating, like pomegranate, hidden right under the sharp of his jaw and on his delicate wrists.

But above all that, Geralt loved knowing that most of those things were new to the bard. That Jaskier was completely, utterly his.

It stirred something deep in his chest, something hot and possessive, to see Jaskier’s hands tremble ever so slightly when he would reach out to him, run his hands down Geralt’s shoulders and chest, studying the lines of his body. The way he bit his lower lip to try and stop the colour from spilling over his cheeks while doing so.

Geralt would’ve never thought him to be quite so coy when it came to physical closeness but then again, Jaskier was only twenty-two and though he’d already made his way through more beds than either of them would care to count, all of his lovers were women.

Over the four years they’ve been travelling together, Geralt had seen the bard flirting with other men countless times, have seen him with kiss-swollen lips and marks on his neck but, as he had come to realise very quickly once he became the one leaving those marks, it had never gone any further than that yet.

Jaskier was almost self-conscious about it for the first few evenings but then, as he’d learned just how much Geralt loved having him all to himself, it had quickly become a weapon that he used against the witcher shamelessly.

The way he leaned and arched into every touch, little breathless gasps escaping his lips whenever Geralt would find his way to his neck, leaving bruising kisses in his wake, the way he tangled his hands in his silver hair to pull him closer still, the way he trembled under what seemed like every touch - all of that was driving Geralt insane, slowly but surely. And it wasn’t helping at all that when it all started - a little over a week ago - they were in the middle of nowhere, and the villages that they would pass on the Path were all too small to have an inn.

The bright side of it, however, was that Jaskier was growing beautifully impatient.

Every night, when they would set up their camp, the summer nights warm and kind to travellers, he would grow more and more frustrated when, drunk on the taste of Geralt’s lips on his own, he would get his hands intercepted at the wrists and seized before he could as much as strip the witcher of his shirt. No matter how much Geralt wanted him, he was going to get him into a proper bed first.

Jaskier pleaded, whimpered and threatened but nothing worked, and his impatience was growing so hot and overwhelming that Geralt could almost feel it on his skin whenever the bard was close. Though also a torture, it was an absolute delight to know that he’s the cause of it.

And even so, when they finally reach a town a little south-east of Tretogor, Geralt can tell that Jaskier is nervous. In a good way, but nevertheless.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Geralt wonders if he’d been like this the first time he had shared a bed with a woman but he also knows the answer. He remembers his own first sexual experience, a young and beautiful barmaid somewhere in Kaedwen, grateful to him for saving her father from a water hag and fascinated by his silver hair and golden eyes. She was warm and soft and gentle, taking her time with the buckles of Geralt’s armour and breathing sweet little moans into his lips.

Geralt was twenty-four then, only a year out of Kaer Morhen where all he’d really learned about sex were the stories he and his brothers would tell each other, all of them so obviously made-up that when he thought back on it, he was genuinely impressed by their imagination.

But even so, he remembers how easy it was to figure it all out, how effortless it was to find the right pattern. So he knows that no, Jaskier wasn’t like this the first time he had slept with a woman. And that thrills him even more.

He doesn’t mention it, though, allowing everything to go at its own pace and, when the door of their rented room closes behind them, he busies himself with his bags and armour, just like he always does.

Jaskier is telling him something about a fellow student he had in the Academy that is now a poet at the Tretogor court and, slowly but surely, he can feel the tension bleed away from the bard’s shoulders. He knows that on some lever Jaskier had been expecting to be tugged to bed the moment they got to the room, and that anticipation was what was making him anxious. Geralt did ask himself what did he do wrong for the bard to feel like he’d be given no time but then again, it’s hardly his fault, too much anticipation tends to do that to people.

So when Jaskier relaxes again, Geralt just smiles to himself.

“When was it that we’d last slept in a proper bed?” the bard murmurs, coming closer to wrap his arms around Geralt’s waist from behind and hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Let alone this big.”

Geralt chuckles, leaving his bags alone and covering Jaskier’s arms with his own, tilting his head to brush his lips over the bard’s temple.

“Hmm,” he hums, considering. “Three weeks ago?”

Jaskier huffs a laugh, touching a gentle kiss to Geralt’s shoulder. Through the fabric of his shirt, Geralt can feel the warmth of his lips and, despite all his self-control, it sends a shiver down his back.

“We can stay here for a couple of days,” he says, turning around in Jaskier’s arms to dip his head and steal a proper kiss from him. “If you want to. It’s been a long couple of weeks and the only way I can think of making up for them is not letting you out of my arms for a day or two.”

Jaskier smiles and bites his lips, a beautiful tint of pink spilling over his cheeks. He hides his eyes and Geralt knows better than to tip his chin up now. He knows that in a way, Jaskier is enjoying his own nervousness now that the edge of it is taken off, and he gladly allows him to savour it.

Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers down Geralt’s chest and then moves back up, over his shoulder and neck, until he can get his hand into the witcher’s hair and pull him to his lips, closing in what little distance there is between them.

He kisses him slow and sweet, and Geralt parts his lips obediently when he feels Jaskier’s tongue on them. It’s a pleasure of its own - letting the bard explore his body slowly and carefully, in whichever way he likes, allowing him to feel in control of everything that happens.

When Geralt thinks about it, he’d never known anything sweeter.

As Jaskier moves his other hand over his torso and chest from where it had been resting on the small of the witcher’s back, Geralt gladly leans into it, chasing the touch, ready to both follow Jaskier to the bed, and let him go.

Jaskier rests his hand on Geralt’s shoulder, fingers digging into the skin just hard enough to keep the witcher close, and only breaks away to suck it a breath before his lips are on Geralt’s again. It’s impossible to resist and Geralt doesn’t even try to, catching the bard’s lower lip between his teeth and drinking in the gorgeous little gasp he gets in response. He’d had more than enough time over the years to notice the way Jaskier looks at him whenever he smiles in a way that shows his canine, elongated and sharpened by the mutations and the Trials. And though the bard never openly admitted anything, it wasn’t necessary.

The temptation to bite just a little harder and see how Jaskier will react is not the one that Geralt can keep at bay and so he gives in, tipping Jaskier’s chin up and biting at his plush lower lip, not so hard as to draw blood but enough to have the bard arch his back, chasing the feeling and flinching away from it at the same time. The choked moan that escapes his chest sounds more like a whimper and, by the gods, Geralt can barely breathe with just how much he wants him.

Fortunately for him, they’re close enough to one of the walls that it only takes Geralt two steps to press Jaskier up against the wooden panels and kiss him again, keeping the initiative to himself this time, licking into the bard’s mouth and keeping him close with a hand on the small of his back.

If there’s anything that he’d learned over the last week and a half is that even though Jaskier loves his freedom to touch and kiss whichever way he wants, he also loves just how much stronger Geralt is, how, if he wants to, he can just take, asking no questions.

Geralt had first discovered it a week ago when, after they had settled in for the night, the kisses had grown hotter, hungrier and Jaskier, his hands everywhere at once, had finally caught on the hem of the witcher’s shirt only for Geralt to intercept his wrists and pin them above his head. He wasn’t really expecting anything aside from displeasure from the bard, keeping his hands away simply because telling him to do so would not have been enough but the way Jaskier looked at him them, pupils blown so wide that there was barely any blue in his eyes, had told Geralt everything he needed to know.

And it would’ve been a terrible mistake to deny them both such pleasure.

Careful not to overstep, to always make sure that Jaskier doesn’t feel trapped, he indulged them both, knowing perfectly well that more often than not Jaskier wouldn’t keep his hands to himself for the sole purpose of having them pinned above his head once more. He struggled against the grip with little to no intention to actually escape it and Geralt could feel his pulse pick up when all of those attempts failed and Jaskier knew that he’s helpless against the witcher.

If his life depended on it, Geralt would not have been able to decide what he loves more: allowing Jaskier to do anything he wanted to him, mapping out his body with careful hands and lips, or having full control over him.

Moving even closer, Geralt shifts just enough to push his thigh between Jaskier’s and he can’t help but grin at the way the bard gasps, already half-hard.

“You’re so easy to turn on, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it,” he murmurs into his ear, breaking the kiss and finding his way to Jaskier’s neck, still bearing the marks he’d left two nights ago.

He doesn’t see Jaskier blush but he feels it in his scent, sweet and heady, like peach blossoms. He breathes it in, lets it fill his lungs, barely suppressing a low moan as he undoes the hooks on the bard’s doublet one by one.

“Geralt--” Jaskier breathes, eyes fluttering closed as the witcher sucks a new mark onto his neck, the sparks of pain only adding to the pleasure.

His hands are shaking as he cups the sharp of Geralt’s jaw, making him lift his head, and pulls him to his lips to kiss him again. Geralt lets himself be manoeuvred willingly, giving the control back and something low in his abdomen ties into knots at the way they can play with power like that.

He’d never been the one to obey easily but letting Jaskier take things his own way held a different kind of power within it.

Knowing that Jaskier cannot keep his hands off him, always so open and sensitive despite his own nervousness and fear, was better than any control Geralt could imagine.

“Bed,” Jaskier breathes into his lips, stepping away from the wall. “Please.”

Without looking, Geralt takes a step back towards the bed, leading Jaskier after him without ever breaking the kiss and it’s when the back of his knees already hit the mattress that there’s a sharp knock on the door and Jaskier flinches in his arms, eyes flying open.

“The bath you ordered is ready,” comes a female voice from behind the door. “When you’re done just leave the towel on the door handle and my boys will deal with the water for you.”

Geralt recollects himself faster, thanking the innkeeper and, as he listens to her make her way back down the stairs, the heels of her shoes tapping against the wood, he can feel Jaskier rest his forehead against his shoulder, laughing breathlessly.

His cheeks are bright-red either with the heat or with the sudden embarrassment for the state he’s in, and even though Geralt is dying to tease him about it, he’s trying so hard to hide it that the witcher chooses to pretend that he doesn’t see the blush.

“You’ve ordered a bath and forgot about it?” Geralt asks, pressing a calming kiss to Jaskier’s temple, his own shoulders shaking with laughter, as well.

“Turns out it’s very hard to keep such insignificant things in mind with you around,” the bard smiles, still hiding his eyes and so gorgeously embarrassed that Geralt can’t help but lean in and steal one more kiss from him.

Geralt lets him go when he pulls back and as he sits down on the bed, watching Jaskier fumble with the ties on the sleeves of his doublet, his fingers still shaking, he realises, though not for the first time but with an intensity that he has never felt before, just how hopelessly in love he is with him.

“Jask,” he calls softly, extending an arm towards him and pulling the bard closer when he takes his hand. “Everything alright?”

Jaskier allows himself to be pulled down into Geralt’s lap and, after a second, takes in a breath and finally looks him in the eyes.

“Yes,” he says, brushing a stray lock of the witcher’s silver hair out of his face. “I’m sorry, I just got a little… overwhelmed.”

Geralt can feel it in his scent but he doesn’t say it, dipping his head to touch a gentle kiss to the curve of his shoulder, instead. Jaskier relaxes under the touch, tilting his head to give better access.

“We don’t have to do this if it’s too much,” Geralt says softly. “If you’re not ready.”

“No,” Jaskier says immediately, pulling back to look the witcher in the eyes again. “I want to. You don’t even know how bad. But I just… can we wait until the evening?”

The blush is now slowly fading from his cheeks but his eyes are shining just as bright as before, and he looks so impossibly beautiful like this that Geralt can feel his heart skip one of its slow beats.

He leans in, brushing his lips over Jaskier’s warm cheek, and smiles at him, pulling away.

“Of course.”

***

Over the four years that they’ve spent together, they’ve never really seen each other naked, so when Jaskier leaves for the other room to take his bath, Geralt knows better than to follow him, no matter how close they’ve gotten over the last days or what’s going to happen in the evening.

He gives Jaskier the space they both know he needs right now and heads downstairs, where more and more guests are gathering around the tables as the sun is starting to set.

At first, he wants to get himself a drink for the time to go by faster but then, after giving it some thought, decides against it and instead orders a bath for himself, as well. It takes a little bargaining but in the end, he manages to successfully convince the innkeeper to set it in one of the empty rooms. Fortunately for him, this inn is big enough to have the baths and the beds in separate rooms instead of just behind a panel screen.

It’s not that he necessarily needs a bath, since the night before they camped close to a riverbank and he’d sneaked out for a swim when Jaskier fell asleep, but he just wants one. While summer nights are warm and the water in the river was more than pleasant, it still cannot compare with a proper hot bath.

And, well, when he thinks of it, he does want his hair to still be damp and smelling of herbs when he comes back to bed tonight, wants his skin to be warmed and softened by the water, wants to be as close to perfects as he can be - for Jaskier.

He can imagine the way he’s going to touch him once finally given full permission, the way he’s going to look at him, with those impossibly-blue eyes, and it feels… special. Gods know Geralt’s never been the one for sentiments but there is only so much one can do when there are so many feelings mixed into the equation.

As he sheds his clothing and steps into the steaming bath, just on the right side of too hot, he thinks back on what it felt like when Jaskier had kissed him for the first time. It was mostly his own doing, he supposes, for he couldn’t keep his hands to himself when they’ve settled in for the night but at the same time, he could hardly be blamed for it. With Jaskier pressed close to his chest, a sleeping arrangement they’ve somehow fallen into sometime in the last year, his scent was so overpowering and he was so close that it barely even registered with Geralt that he’s got his nose burrowed in the bard’s chestnut hair, just breathing him in.

And, well, it was only a matter of seconds after that that Jaskier was turning around, reaching over to get his hand into Geralt’s hair, and kissing him.

Then, finally, everything fell into place.

If Geralt had known sooner that that was the reaction he was going to get, they would’ve probably been sleeping together for months not, if not years, but the longing did have something special, almost bittersweet within itself.

The way Jaskier kissed him, both gentle and absolutely desperate, justified the previous three and a half years that Geralt had spent yearning for him, convinced that his feelings aren’t reciprocated because why would Jaskier flirt with just about everyone right in front of his eyes?

“Because, you goddamn idiot,” he laughed when the witcher had asked him. “I thought that if you get jealous, you’ll finally do something about it.”

Ah, so that was his strategy.

But none of that really mattered anymore, not with Jaskier parting his lips oh so obediently for his tongue and trembling so sweetly that it didn’t take Geralt long to realise he’d never really went further than kisses with other men and that anything the witcher was going to do to him would be a first. Oh, the way it made his blood boil.

But on some level, he was worried, too.

All the men he’d been with before were… well, more experienced. They knew exactly what they wanted and what Geralt wanted from them, it was a practised pattern, easy to fall into for a night or two and then fall out of it just as easily.

But with Jaskier, Geralt knew it would be different. And he couldn’t help but think that he might do something wrong, might be too much. After all, he was a witcher and his hands were made for a sword rather than a body as beautifully delicate as Jaskier’s. He would never hurt him, of course, not deliberately, at least, but he was still… a witcher.

Geralt shakes those thoughts off before he can concentrate on them too much and closes his eyes, slipping lower into the hot water, instead.

As it washes over him, Geralt allows his mind to wander until he can think of nothing but the feeling of Jaskier’s lips on his own.

***

When Geralt comes back to their room, the bed is still empty and he can hear soft splashes of water from behind the door to the bathroom along with Jaskier’s humming of a song he’d been composing lately.

Geralt rolls his eyes in fond exasperation, already used to the bard always taking forever in the bath whenever he’d get his hands on one. But, well, he’d always come out smelling of his oils and salt, mild enough not to cause the witcher discomfort, and then Geralt couldn’t really complain for after a long bath Jaskier had always searched for more warmth in his arms.

Geralt can’t imagine this time being different, so when he gets into bed, having left his trousers on an armchair in the corner of the room, there’s a sweet little thrill of anticipation that runs through him. Even if Jaskier won’t want to take it any further than kisses, just the feeling of his warm, slender body close to his own is enough for Geralt to consider himself a very happy man.

He stretches on the wide bed with a soft pleased rumble, his hair, still damp from the bath, brushed back with only a few loose silver strands falling into his face, and reaches for a book that he’d been carrying around for the last couple of weeks. When Jaskier asked, the witcher had told him that it’s about the flora of the Skellige Isles and that he needs it for future reference on elixirs and salves, because he couldn’t bring himself to admit that it’s a romance novel he’d bought when they were passing Rinde. The story was ridiculous but the erotic scenes were hot and decently written, so he wasn’t complaining. After all, everyone’s allowed a little guilty pleasure.

Geralt wasn’t really paying attention to how much time had passed but he was just about to finish a chapter when he’d realised that the splashing in the other room had stopped and after just a few moments, Jaskier slipped through the door, nothing but his smallclothes and an oversized shirt on.

It’s what he usually sleeps in when they have a proper bed, and so does Geralt, because wearing trousers to bed is a form of torture, and Geralt should be used to it except now, when he’s finally allowed to touch and kiss and feel, he can’t help but bite his lip at the sight.

It doesn’t help at all that Jaskier’s wearing his shirt, as well.

“Is that mine?” Geralt enquires, still.

Jaskier smiles at him, almost teasingly.

“The shirt or me as a whole?”

He crosses the room, coming closer to the witcher and takes the book away from his hands, closing it and putting it aside, on the bedside table.

“Either way,” he says, his hands coming to rest on Geralt’s shoulders as Jaskier straddles his hips in one effortless, almost practised move. “The answer is yes.”

And oh, how good he is with his words.

His body is a pleasant weight on Geralt’s hips and the witcher barely notices it when his hands come up to rest on Jaskier’s waist, his skin warm even through the fabric of the shirt. From this position, he has to tilt his head up to look at the bard but it’s not something that Geralt minds.

He’s aching to reach up and kiss him but even more than that he wants to let Jaskier be the one to set the pace, and so he waits, just rubs little circles into his sides with his thumbs and even that, somehow, makes the bard shudder.

“Do you still want me?” he whispers, brushing a silver strand away from Geralt’s face and letting his fingers linger on the sharp of his jaw.

Geralt can feel his heart skip a beat.

“Always.”

Jaskier lets out a shaky breath and then his fingers are under Geralt’s chin, tipping his head up more, and he’s kissing him, just as gentle and desperate as he did the very first time.

Geralt can’t help but moan softly into his lips, the realization of finally being alone and in bed fully catching up with him at last.

He slides one of his hands up Jaskier’s back, barely holding back from getting under his shirt so soon, and pulls him closer, letting the bard’s scent wash over him, fill his lungs from wall to wall. He can feel the oils Jaskier’s used for his bath, the herbal soap he uses on his hair, but under all that, he can feel his own scent - sweet, heady pomegranate, with something even richer, even sweeter slowly mixing in and he knows Jaskier well enough to recognise the scent of his desire.

Jaskier breaks away for only a second, their lips never fully parting, and takes in a shallow breath before kissing Geralt again, slower this time, his entire body leaning into the witcher’s touch. And then again. And again.

Geralt kisses him back gently, his other hand moving up to tangle in Jaskier’s hair, still wet after the bath. He runs his tongue over the bard’s bottom lip but, when Jaskier parts them obediently, withdraws, earning himself a disheartened little whimper as a reward.

“Teasing me, Witcher?” Jaskier asks, a little breathless as he breaks away.

Geralt grins, showing off his canine.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, not even trying to sound innocent.

Jaskier’s eyes are already darker than they usually are, transfixed on the witcher’s grin, and Geralt knows perfectly what exactly he’s looking at, what draws in so much of his attention.

“You and your fucking witcher mutations,” he hisses, dragging his thumb over Geralt’s bottom lip and leaning down to kiss him, hard.

Geralt laughs somewhere deep in his chest.

“What about them?”

Jaskier leaves him without an answer for they both know it well enough, and dips his head to touch his lips to Geralt’s neck, right under the sharp of his jaw. The touch sends sparks of pleasure up Geralt’s spine, and his eyes flutter closed as he tilts his head to give the bard more access.

The neck had always been a sensitive area for him and as much as a couple of well-placed kisses could have him biting his lips but right now, with Jaskier kissing him, he can barely hold back a moan.

“How long have you wanted this?” Jaskier asks, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Geralt’s throat, his hands slowly making their way down the witcher’s chest.

Geralt has to bite his lip, hard, to keep himself from getting under Jaskier’s shirt.

“More than three years,” he says, catching the bard’s lips with his own when he lifts his head. “Pretty much ever since we met.”

“Ever since we met,” Jaskier echoes, kissing him again and slowly, carefully rolling his hips against Geralt’s, tearing a sigh out of them both. “And yet you waited all this time.”

His breath is hot on Geralt’s lips and before the witcher has the chance to answer, he’s silenced with a kiss, Jaskier’s tongue hot and wet when he licks into his mouth. Geralt doesn’t mind being led, not with Jaskier, so he allows for it with pleasure, arching into the touch when the bard finally slips his hands under his shirt.

It’s not that Jaskier’s hands have never been on his chest or sides before, because of course they have, helping wash off blood and wrapping bandages around fresh wounds but it was always a necessity, with no time to actually feel, to study the firm muscles and the pale scars. Geralt did catch Jaskier looking a couple of times but that too wasn’t nearly enough.

Geralt can feel Jaskier’s hands tremble slightly as he rucks his shirt up and moves just far enough from the headboard of the bed for him to pull it off over his head. Jaskier drops the shirt to the floor beside the bed, his hands finding their way to Geralt’s broad chest and for a moment, he just looks, brushing his thumb over a healing cut on the witcher’s collarbone.

His hands are warm against Geralt’s skin and though he’s not used to such direct attention, it feels good.

“Like what you see?” he teases, watching Jaskier slowly move his hand down his chest, stopping just between his ribs, just the tips of his fingers touching skin.

That gets him the result he wanted, a flush of colour spilling high on the bard’s cheeks and Jaskier bites his lip, hiding his eyes in a gesture that Geralt had grown to love a little too much.

“Yes,” Jaskier says, only a whisper. “Gods know I’ve been dreaming about you for years.”

He dips his head, brushing his lips over the cut he’d been tracing and, after a moment of hesitation, slips lower, to Geralt’s chest, eyes fluttering closed.

He’s careful with his every touch, like it’s Geralt who’s never been in bed with a man, not him, but it sends Geralt’s head reeling regardless, knowing where that tentativeness is coming from. Unable to help himself anymore, he gets his hands under Jaskier’s shirt, tearing a soft little gasp out of him, and runs his hands up his back, both encouraging and calming.

Jaskier kisses a line down his chest, touching his tongue to the skin every time, and there’s only so much that Geralt can take before he’s searching for the hem of his shirt.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging on it just a little to indicate his intentions.

Jaskier goes still for a moment, his breath heavying, but Geralt can tell that it’s anticipation rather than indecisiveness. And it’s only a second before he nods.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Gods, yes. Please.”

More than anything Geralt wants to flip them both around, lay Jaskier down on the pillows and just kiss him until there’s no air left in his lungs, wants to make him tremble with pleasure, hear those little choked-off moans and whimpers, but he knows that there will be time for that, and right now what Jaskier needs is time. And that is something that Geralt can give him.

He pulls the bard’s shirt off him slowly, letting his hands brush over his sides, and once it falls down onto the floor, he keeps his eyes locked with Jaskier’s for a long moment before running his gaze down his shoulders and chest, all the way down to his lower abdomen. Jaskier’s heart rate picks up even more so than before, and Geralt leans in to brush his lips over his neck, feel the carotid pulsing under the tender skin.

Jaskier leans into it, until they’re chest to chest, and gets one of his hands into Geralt’s hair, pulling him closer, giving him more access, more freedom, while his other hand never quite stills on the witcher’s chest, like he’s mapping out every curve and line.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, throwing his head back with a soft moan when Geralt presses another open-mouthed kiss to his neck, sucks a mark into it with just a hint of his canine scraping over the skin.

Geralt knows just how inexperienced Jaskier is, can feel it in every touch of his hands and lips, but the bard had never told him directly, and it’s too tempting for Geralt to deny himself the pleasure.

“You’ve never been with a man before, have you?” he murmurs, letting his voice drop to a soft purring rumble that gets Jaskier’s heart beating faster every time.

He doesn’t have to see the blood rushing to Jaskier’s cheeks to be able to feel it.

“No,” Jaskier admits, his hand catching on the witcher’s medallion and wrapping around it. “I wanted to, a couple of times, but I never quite had the courage. Or maybe I just never really wanted to be with anyone but you.”

Those words run through Geralt’s body like a shockwave and he breaks away from Jaskier’s neck to catch and hold his gaze.

“Gods, you perfect,” he whispers but before he can capture Jaskier’s mouth in a kiss, his lips are already back on his chest.

He seems braver this time, his kisses turning into teasing bites, like that confession was what he needed to feel more confident. It’s getting harder to breathe and though Geralt manages to keep his breathing more or less even as Jaskier makes his way down his chest, once the bard’s lips close around his hardened nipple, he fails to suppress a gasp, hips jerking involuntarily.

He’s fully hard by now and the pressure of Jaskier’s hips against his own sends sparks of pleasure through his lower abdomen.

Jaskier seems to take that as an encouragement, pressing himself closer to the witcher and rolling his hips slowly, his own cock hard and throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his smallclothes.

For a second, Geralt is overwhelmed with the desire to flip Jaskier onto his back and get his mouth on him, make him come just like that, finally learn what he tastes like, but he makes himself hold back. After all, they have the entire night.

“What about you?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt is so lost in the feeling of his hot tongue that it takes him a second to register the question. “Who was the first man you’ve slept with?”

He chuckles, pulling Jaskier up to his lips for just a second before letting him get back to his chest.

“Another witcher,” he says, nearly choking on a moan when Jaskier catches his nipple between his teeth before shifting in Geralt’s lap and moving lower. “I was eight, maybe ten years out of Kaer Morhen. He was a little younger than me.”

Jaskier takes his kisses lower, down the centre of Geralt’s abdomen, and though his hands are slightly trembling again where they’re resting on the witcher’s thighs, he doesn’t stop in one spot for too long. And if Geralt’s voice is what it takes to take the worry away, how can he refuse?

“We met in the Pont Vanis court, in Poviss. There was some kind of a creature in the harbour that was killing seamen and dockworkers at night, and the king needed a witcher to take care of it. When we asked which one of us he wants to take on the contract, he said that whoever brings him the head of the beast will get the coin. We spent two nights searching the docks and growling at each other, and all the other nights we spent in one bed.”

Jaskier’s head snaps up from where he’d been following the trail of short silver hair running down Geralt’s lower abdomen, and his eyes are widened with both surprise and amusement.

“Hatesex, Geralt?” he asks, not quite managing to hide a grin. “That’s… hot.”

Geralt laughs, shaking his head.

“We didn’t hate each other,” he says. “Coën is… well, he’s certainly something. On the third night that we were supposed to go looking for what turned out to be a vengeful siren, I’ve decided to show up on his doorstep and tell him to stop getting in the way of my hunting but instead of telling me to fuck off like I’ve been expecting, he just rolled his eyes and pressed me up against a wall.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen even more and his grin is now not concealed in the slightest.

“I’ve always thought you to be the one doing the pressing,” he says, running the tips of his fingers up Geralt’s thigh.

Denying anything is useless at this point, so Geralt just accepts that Jaskier now knows a little secret of his. Considering that there are fresh marks blooming on the bard’s neck, it’s a small price to pay.

“I am,” he agrees. “But he’s very… dominant.”

Jaskier hums something dismissive, the grin never leaving his lips even as he pulls himself up to steal a long, sweet kiss from the witcher.

“You still sleep with him, don’t you?” Jaskier enquiries, willingly allowing Geralt to pull him back into his lap and leaning into the touch when the witcher rolls his hips slowly.

When Geralt wants to, he can look just as charming as the bard, and that is exactly what he does right now.

“From time to time,” he grins.

He’s half-expecting the bard to be jealous, though he doesn’t want him to be, but Jaskier just laughs and kisses him again, blindly searching for Geralt’s wrists to guide his hands to the waistband of his smallclothes. His fingers tremble where they’re pressed against Geralt’s skin, but he doesn’t stop.

Geralt kisses him back gently, calming him and letting his hands rest on the bard’s hips for a long, comfortable moment before breaking away when there is no air left in his lungs.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly, and Jaskier just nods, a little nervously, his lips already back on Geralt’s in search of consolation.

Geralt undoes the ties on the bard’s smallclothes with practised ease and, when Jaskier shifts just enough, slips them off him, careful not to let his hands wander too soon.

Jaskier sucks in a breath, breaking away from Geralt’s lips, and his cheeks are flushed with blood again, too beautiful for the witcher to be able to hold himself back from placing a kiss on both of them.

“Alright?” he asks, tipping Jaskier’s chin up to get his attention.

Jaskier’s darkened eyes snap up to meet his, and he smiles, open and warm.

“Alright,” he breathes.

He rolls his hips, pressing himself close to Geralt, and they both moan softly at the pressure. It’s almost unbearable, taking it so slow, but it’s better than anything Geralt has ever known. He desperately wants to get a proper look at the bard, now completely naked and so, so close, wants to study every curve and line of his body, but Jaskier’s already blushing, and he doesn’t want to push it too far.

Jaskier, for his part, seems determined to finish what he’d started, so before Geralt gets the chance to as much as kiss him again, he’s already spilling back down, his lips low on the witcher’s abdomen and his hands blindly tracing the lines of his thighs.

There’s a long uneven scar that starts just above the witcher’s hipbone and curves halfway around his lower abdomen, and Jaskier halts just above it, lifting his head hesitantly.

“May I?” he asks.

It’s just now that Geralt realises he’d been avoiding his scars. And not because he didn’t want to touch them but because he wasn’t sure if he’s allowed.

Geralt lets out a shuddering breath, running his fingers through the bard’s hair.

“You can do anything you want to me,” he says.

Jaskier flashes a happy smile at him and then he’s dipping his head down to kiss a line along the length of the scar, starting from its inner side and making his way to the witcher’s hipbone, tugging on the waistband of his smallclothes just enough to give himself access.

His breath is hot against Geralt’s skin, sending tingles up his spine, and the witcher gets so lost in his pleasure that he barely registers the moment Jaskier undoes the ties on his smallclothes and tugs them off him, for he lifts his hips almost instinctively.

But once there are no more barriers of clothing left between them, he’s suddenly hyper-aware of just how close they are, and that sends his head reeling.

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes, licking his lips in a gesture that Geralt can’t help but follow with his eyes. “You’re even bigger than I thought.”

Geralt has about five different ways of replying to that but just as he opens his mouth, Jaskier’s lips wrap around the head of his cock, and all words fail him.

He moans, clenching his hand into a fist in order to keep himself from getting it into the bard’s hair, and it’s so overwhelming that for a second, he thinks that he could come just like this.

“Jask--” he chokes out, taking in a deep breath and grounding himself to gently run his fingers through the bard’s hair, calming and reassuring him. Them both. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Jaskier smiles without pulling away and wraps his hand around the base of the witcher’s cock, stroking torturously-slowly.

He doesn’t move any further yet, just sucks lightly at the head, moving his hand over the entire length every time, but that is more than enough to have Geralt trembling, his breathing deep and heavy. He keeps his hand in Jaskier’s hair but doesn’t try to guide him, just plays gently with the chestnut locks, his eyes fluttering closed as the bard lets his cock slowly slip deeper into his mouth.

Geralt doesn’t even try to bite back a moan as Jaskier presses his tongue closer, runs it over the underside of the tip of his cock where the tender flesh is especially sensitive, and the bard echoes, the vibration going through what seems like Geralt’s entire body.

Jaskier sinks even lower, a little too fast this time, almost choking for a second, and Geralt runs his fingers down his cheek to stop on the sharp of his jaw, gentle and grounding.

“Don’t rush,” he murmurs softly, finding Jaskier’s other hand and pulling it up to his lips to press a kiss to his palm. “Don’t rush, I’ve got you.”

Jaskier pulls away to take in a proper breath, and the way he looks, with those darkened eyes, ruffled hair and lips glistening with spit and precome, is almost too much for Geralt to take.

“Come here,” he beckons, reaching out to pull Jaskier closer. “Gods, just come here.”

Jaskier obeys without hesitation, climbing back into Geralt’s lap and finding his way to his lips easily, sharing his own taste with him.

Geralt runs both his hands down the bard’s back, over his waist and hips until he can finally dig his fingers into his thighs, letting his self-control slip just a little.

He just can’t take it anymore, can’t stay in the position they’re in, his entire body aching with the need to be closer, and he wraps one arm around Jaskier’s middle to keep him close as he flips them both over, lowering the bard down onto the pillows. Jaskier gasps sweetly but doesn’t protest, throwing both his arms around the witcher’s neck.

“I’ll get you back into my lap later, if you want,” Geralt promises, breathless as he breaks the kiss and immediately finds his way to Jaskier’s neck. “All you have to do is ask, alright? Anything you want, I’ll give you.”

Jaskier nods, his bottom lip caught between his lips, and Geralt takes that as a permission, pressing his hips into Jaskier’s and paving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, moving closer still when the bard wraps his legs around his waist, his hands tangled in the witcher’s hair.

He can feel Jaskier’s cock against his abdomen, hot and throbbing, can feel the smears of precome on his skin, and his mind blacks-out completely for a second as he moans and leaves a bite on the curve of the bard’s shoulder, making his gasp and arch his back off the bed.

“Gods, Geralt, please,” he whispers, edging on a sob. “Please.”

He doesn’t have to specify what he’s asking for for Geralt to know, and he gladly obliges, biting him again, just a little harder this time, letting Jaskier feel the pressure of his canine against his skin. Jaskier tugs on his hair and whimpers, his breath coming in short gasps.

Geralt presses his tongue to the faint mark left by his teeth and moves lower, to Jaskier’s collarbone, nearly growling with pleasure when he sinks his teeth into it, making the bard shudder all over, his head thrown back onto the pillows, lips parted and kiss-swollen.

He’s growing overly sensitive and it sends a thrill through Geralt’s body, makes his blood boil in his veins. If Jaskier is this responsive now, how much further can he push his before it becomes too much?

“Jask,” Geralt calls softly, getting the bard’s attention. “You can stop me at any moment, alright? Always.”

Jaskier nods frantically, rolling his hips against Geralt’s and breaking off into a breathless moan. Oh, the things Geralt is ready to do to hear that.

He kisses a line down the centre of Jaskier’s chest, keeping his balance with one hand and never quite letting go of the bard’s thigh with the other.

It only seems fair to give what you get, so Geralt doesn’t even think about it as he sucks Jaskier’s nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue until the bard is writhing and whimpering under him, and then bites down, making Jaskier cry out.

“Please--” he sniffles, and it’s just now that Geralt realises that there are tears in the corners of his blue eyes. “Fuck, Geralt, please, you’re going to kill me.”

For a second, a wave of cold fear runs through his body, and his mind races, trying to figure out what he did wrong, but then he takes in a breath, takes in Jaskier’s scent, and he doesn't feel distress or pain, only the deep, rich sweetness of lust. And something more. Something that he doesn’t quite dare to think about just yet.

“Shhh--” he murmurs, touching a calming, grounding kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Jaskier pulls him closer, catches his lips in a rushed, desperate kiss, all sharp teeth.

“Please,” he says again, and Geralt can barely even think because of how easy it is to get Jaskier to this state, hyper-sensitive and desperate.

He doesn’t want to make him wait any longer, doesn’t want to deny him the pleasure, so he just nods, unclasping Jaskiers’s ankles on the small of his back to climb off the bed and reach for one of his bags, searching through it quickly to find the oil. And once he’s got the vial in his hand, he comes back and finally, finally runs his gaze over the bard’s entire body, splayed out on the dark-red bed covers just for him.

Jaskier flushes under his tentative eyes but doesn’t tense, doesn’t hide. If anything, he spreads his legs further and it’s an invitation that Geralt cannot decline.

He climbs back onto the bed, settling in-between Jaskier’s knees, and dips his head down to press a wet kiss to the inside of the bard’s thigh, making him gasp softly and flex his muscles, both leaning into the touch and trying to get away from it. His cock is throbbing and leaking precome onto his stomach, and there’s nothing that Geralt wants more than to take it into his mouth, but Jaskier seems to see right through him, for just as the witcher moves to go through with his intentions, Jaskier stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” he says, breathing hard. “No, not right now. Believe me, love, I’ve been thinking about this what seems like every night but I know what it feels like. And right now I want something I’ve never felt before. With you.”

He looks so open, so vulnerable that Geralt’s heart seems to stop completely for one endless moment, and then his lips are back on Jaskier’s thighs, peppering calming kisses over the tender skin.

“Alright,” he breathes. “Anything you want.”

Geralt spreads the bard’s knees further, giving himself more access, and uncorks the vial of oil without looking, too preoccupied with sucking a mark into Jaskier’s thigh that makes him shudder and whimper, pain mixing in with pleasure.

The oil smells pleasantly of lavender and Geralt is just about to drip it into his hand, when Jaskier asks:

“Will it hurt?”

His voice is so small that Geralt would not have heard it were it not for his heightened senses. Oh, it tears his heart into pieces with just how much it makes him feel.

“No,” he says, smoothing both his hands down the bard’s thighs and leaning down to touch a kiss to his hip bone. “Maybe just a little. We’ll go slow, alright? I won’t hurt you.”

Jaskier bites his lip but nods, loose strands of his damp hair falling into his eyes. But he still seems worried, and in Geralt’s mind, there’s only one thing for it.

“You know,” he murmurs, running his tongue over the fresh mark to get Jaskier’s attention. “I could start with my tongue.”

Jaskier’s darkened eyes light up with interest.

“With your tongue?” he echoes.

Geralt just grins, closing the vial of oil again and setting it aside for now. He should’ve thought of it from the start.

“Turn around for me,” he says, and Jaskier obliges immediately, though his arms shake when he props himself up on his elbows. “Just like that.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to know exactly what Geralt wants from him, and when the witcher runs his hands down his sides only to slip them under his hips and lift them up until Jaskier’s propped up on his knees, he gasps in what almost sounds like surprise.

He looks incredible like this, his chest still pressed to the bed and the perfect swell of his ass on display, the blush that never seems to leave his cheeks only making it better.

Geralt doesn’t torture either of them with anticipation, running a line of dry, calming kisses down Jaskier’s back and getting a better grip of his thighs to keep him in place. As he runs his tongue over the crease of the bard’s thighs for the first time, slow and wet, he can hear Jaskier gasp into the pillows, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

Geralt presses his tongue closer and swipes it up again, listening to every little noise that Jaskier makes. He lets the bard rock his hips into the touch but keeps him at a steady, slow rhythm, until he relaxes enough to whimper in response to every touch. Only then does Geralt allow himself to go further, applying more pressure with every drag of his tongue, teasing at the bard’s hole, and Jaskier trembles under him.

His cock is leaking steadily onto the bed covers, and Geralt knows that they’re going to absolutely ruin them by morning, but that doesn’t concern him in the least. Not with Jaskier panting and whimpering because of him.

Jaskier is eager to get more, and he relaxes quickly, allowing Geralt to press harder, push his tongue inside, his lips and chin slick with spit. If he could, he would gladly spend the entire night like this, licking into the bard’s hot, tight body and feeling his thighs shake where his fingers are digging into them.

“Oh, fuck, Geralt, please--” Jaskier sniffles, and Geralt can feel the salty tang of his tears. “Please, don’t stop. Do anything you want to me but just don’t stop.”

Geralt is happy to oblige, ignoring his own throbbing cock, painfully hard and leaking just as much as Jaskier’s. But he can’t help but think about what it will feel like to sink into that hot, pliable body that’s taking his tongue so eagerly, and his vision darkens for an agonisingly long moment. His entire body responds to the fantasy, tingling and aching, and he just barely has it in him not to wrap a hand around himself.

He makes himself focus completely on Jaskier, on the way he claws at the sheets, rocking his hips faster, fucking himself onto Geralt’s tongue, and it takes him everything he’s got to keep his own movements slow and gentle - a sharp contrast to the bard’s eagerness.

He presses in close, sinking his tongue deep into the bard’s body and then withdrawing almost fully, and gets completely lost in, fucking him just like that until Jaskier’s moan suddenly breaks off into a sharp cry and his hips snap forward as he comes, spilling all over the sheets.

Geralt fucks him through it, his head reeling with the overwhelming scent of the bard’s pleasure, and when he finally breaks away, he has to steady himself with a hand on Jaskier’s hip because for a second he feels completely disoriented.

Jaskier’s entire body trembles with the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he keeps his hips up even as he hides his face in the pillows, his breath coming in short uneven gasps.

Geralt allows him his time, peppering kisses all over his back until he finally reaches his shoulders and Jaskier turns around, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck and pulling him into a heated kiss. All tension is gone from his body, and when Geralt pulls him closer, until their hips are pressed together again, he allows himself to be manoeuvred willingly.

“Gods, that was--” he chokes out, voice hoarse. “That was incredible.”

Geralt just smiles into his lips, kisses him again, slower and deeper this time, licking into Jaskier’s mouth and sharing his taste with him.

“Now that didn’t hurt, did it?” he teases and Jaskier bites on his lower lip, breaking the tender skin.

“No,” he grins, licking the blood off and rolling his hips against Geralt’s, his cock already half-hard again. “But I want more.”

Oh, that Geralt is more than ready to provide.

He laughs somewhere in the back of his throat and reaches for the previously abandoned vial of oil, leaning into every touch as Jaskier runs his hands down his shoulders and back, gripping and scratching everywhere he can reach.

“Do you want me to start with one or two fingers?” the witcher asks, nosings at the bard’s throat and sucking new marks into it as he drips the oil into his hand and warms it between his fingers.

Jaskier spreads his legs further, full of impatience.

“Two,” he says, running his hand all the way down to the witcher’s ass and digging his fingers into the flesh with a pleased moan. “I want you inside so fucking bad, Geralt, please.”

Geralt is growing just as impatient as he, so he doesn’t wait anymore, just props himself up on one elbow, his lips never leaving the bard’s neck, and slips his hand between his legs, circling two fingers around Jaskier’s twitching hole before slowly pushing them inside.

Jaskier arches off the bed with a broken moan, and his sharp nails rake down the witcher’s shoulders, leaving burning scratches behind. He rolls his hips, taking Geralt’s fingers in deeper, and throws his head back, exposing his neck.

Geralt takes advantage of it without hesitation, switching his lips for his teeth and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood though only just. Jaskier’s mouth falls open as he suppresses another moan, and all of it is so overwhelming that all Geralt can concentrate on is his scent and the hot tightness of his body where he fucks him with his fingers. It’s only a matter of minutes before there is no more resistance and he adds a third one.

“Gods, Geralt, if I didn’t kiss you then, how much longer would it have taken us?” Jaskier pants, a whine escaping his lips at the stretch.

Years, maybe, Geralt thinks, Until one of them would finally break. Or maybe just a month or two, until they would get drunk and would no longer be able to keep their hands to themselves. But nothing that could’ve been would not have been better than this. If they waited longer, maybe Geralt would not have been the first one. If they waited longer, maybe Jaskier would have just stopped waiting for him to make up his mind, and gave himself to someone else.

That thought runs through Geralt’s entire body like a wave of suffocating heat and he growls.

“You don’t even know what it does to me - knowing that I’m the first man to touch you like this,” he breathes into the bard’s ear.

Jaskier seems to be about to answer when Geralt’s fingers brush over just the right spot inside, and his eyes fly open as he gasps.

“Right there,” he pleads, curling into Geralt’s body. “Right there, please, Geralt, please.”

For a second Geralt wonders if Jaskier could come three times in a row, if he could get hard again if he was to keep fucking his just like this until he’s absolutely ruined, but he just can’t ignore his own desire any longer. He’s lightheaded with it, almost dizzy, and he just won’t make it through another round like this.

He moves his wrist faster, keeping the same angle, and Jaskier whines and trembles under him, his cock hard and leaking again, making a mess of his stomach. And as soon as he relaxes enough, Geralt withdraws his fingers, swallowing the bard’s disheartened moan with a kiss.

“Breathe for me,” he says softly, dripping more oil into his hand to slick himself up and clenching his jaw at the friction of his own calloused fingers. “Just breathe, Jask.”

Jaskier does as he’s told, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck again to keep him close, and Geralt holds the gaze of his darkened eyes as he aligns himself and slowly pushes in.

They moan in perfect unison, and Geralt drops his head to rest it against Jaskier’s sweat-slick shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed as he sinks deeper into his hot, welcoming body, barely able to breathe.

The sense of time is completely lost to him, and he’s not sure just how long it takes before he finally bottoms out, but once he does, Jaskier’s ankles clasp together on the small of his back, and the bard pulls his closer, hands fluttering blindly over Geralt’s face until he finally tips his chin up and captures his lips in a kiss.

He’s still so impossibly fucking tight that it almost hurts, and Geralt moans into his lips as he slowly rolls his hips, carefully starting to move.

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m not letting you out of this bed for days,” Jaskier breathes in a loud whisper, moving to meet the witcher half-way.

They fall into a perfect rhythm easily, slow and careful at first, but faster as Jaskier gets used to it, staying close enough to breathe the same air, gasps and moans falling off their lips and getting lost in tender kisses.

Geralt had slept with a lot of people in his life, both men and women, but it has never felt like this, like they’re not just having sex, not just fucking but making love. And fuck if he can see himself opting for anything else ever again.

His chest feels tight with emotions, and Geralt hides his face in the delicate curve of the bard’s shoulder, kissing and biting everywhere he can reach, moving faster until Jaskier is whimpering again, snapping his hips just in time to sink as far down as possible every single time.

“There are so many things that I want you to do to me,” he whispers, voice shaking as his nails dig deep into Geralt’s shoulders. “So many things I want to do to you, if you only knew--”

The temptation is too strong to withstand, and Geralt doesn’t even think as he snaps his hips, hard and deep, making Jaskier cry out and drag his nails down his shoulders, leaving bleeding marks behind. Geralt moans breathlessly, always the one to mix pain into his pleasure, and the smell of blood is so intoxicating that it nearly pushes him over the edge.

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier gasps, wrapping his legs tighter around his waist, encouraging. “Again.”

Geralt doesn’t have to be asked twice. He snaps his hips again, just as hard, and Jaskier’s entire body trembles in response as he throws his head back onto the pillows, his cock twitching where it’s pressed against Geralt’s stomach.

They’re both close, and Geralt can’t keep the slow pace up any longer, shifting just enough to brace himself better against the bed and picking the speed up, one of his hands coming down to squeeze Jaskier’s thigh and keep him close.

He’s vaguely aware that the headboard of the bed is knocking into the wall behind it with every thrust of his hips and that it’s already late at night but that’s not something that really concerns him right now, because all he can concentrate on is the heat of Jaskier’s body and his moans and gasp that drown in messy kisses.

Jaskier scratches Geralt’s back and shoulders raw, arching off the bed and desperately trying to keep up with the witcher, pushing them both closer to the edge.

His hands are shaking when he reaches out to intercept Geralt’s wrist as the witcher lets go of his thigh and slips between their heated bodies, and Geralt only hesitates for a second before obliging and returning his hand to where it was.

“Let me come untouched,” Jaskier pants, and his eyes glisten with tears again. “Please, just don’t stop.”

The knot low in Geralt’s abdomen ties tighter and tighter, making him tremble with the sharpening pleasure, the tips of his fingers numb from hyperventilation, and it only takes him one more sharp snap of his hips, one more set of bleeding scratches on his back for the orgasm to crash over him in a suffocating wave. He bites into the bard’s lips, spilling deep into his body and still moving, and he’s still trembling when Jaskier catches up with him and comes all over both their stomachs.

He clings onto Geralt’s neck, both their bodies shaking with the aftershocks, and Geralt can’t even imagine just how much time passes before they let each other go. He pulls out carefully, knowing just how sensitive Jaskier is right now, but the bard still gasps softly, though whether it’s from pain or pleasure Geralt can’t tell.

He falls onto the pillows beside the bard, his body lighter than he can remember it ever being, and pulls Jaskier into his arms, tucking him against his chest, safe and warm. They need to clean up, to take the bed cover off but all of that can wait, and right now all that matters is the way Jaskier leans into his touch, pressing a smudged kiss to Geralt’s chest. He’s still trembling, though barely perceptible, and it sends Geralt’s head reeling all over again.

A few long, comfortable minutes pass by in silence as they just breathe together. Then, Geralt asks:

“Was it like you’d imagined?”

Jaskier laughs quietly, pulling back just enough to look Geralt in the eyes, steal a gentle kiss from him.

“No,” he smiles. “It was much better.”

Geralt snorts, propping himself up on one elbow to get a proper look at the bard, run his gaze down his entire body, slender and beautiful. The words are right there, on the tip of his tongue, and while he still has the courage, he needs to say them.

“Jask,” he calls softly, getting the bard's attention. “You do know that I love you, don’t you?”

Jaskier’s eyes widen slightly and Geralt can hear his heart skip a beat, but then he’s smiling, so bright and happy that it almost hurts.

“Oh, Geralt,” he says, voice breaking like he’s about to cry.

He sits up, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck when he does the same, and hugs him so tight that he knocks the air out of the witcher’s lungs. When he pulls back, his eyes are shining with tears.

“I didn’t know,” he says, sniffling and laughing when Geralt reaches up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Not until tonight, at least. But with the way you touched me, the way you cared so much about my comfort, oh, Melitele preserve me.”

He covers Geralt’s hand with his own and pulls it to his lips to press a kiss to the witcher’s fingers.

“I love you,” he whispers, lifting his eyes to meet Geralt’s. “Gods, of course, I love you, I’ve loved you ever since we met.”

And then his lips are on Geralt’s again, and it’s so much, so much that all the witcher can do is kiss back, his heart beating against his ribcage so hard that he feels like it might actually break through it. He wraps his arms around Jaskier’s back, and when the bard breaks away, breathless, the corners of his lips are still curled up in a smile.

“Do you think we’ve woken all the other guests up yet?” he enquires, eyes sparkling.

Geralt falls into pretend consideration for a second then shrugs with one shoulder and grins.

“Not all of them,” he says.

Jaskier mirrors his grin.

“Wonderful,” he says, pushing the witcher down onto his back and straddling his hips. “Then we ought to fix that.”

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #my writing #calton writes #oh gods this one was a ride

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

Crazy beautiful | yandere!ksj

He's so lovely, goddamn pretty In fact they say he's quite the lover.

⇲ 18+ ⇲ xtremity: 3 ⇲ pairing: soft yandere!ksj x female reader ⇲ genre: pwp smut ⇲ word count: 1.9k ⇲ warnings: profanity, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, jin has a fat cock

request by anon: yandere!bts member of your choice x touchstarved reader 👉👈 sfw or nsfw would be up to you too shhsbwhd

‘‘You’re so lovely.’‘ He breathed against the nape of your neck as he hugged you from behind. ‘‘So pretty.’‘

‘’Jin...’’ You sighed in content, leaning into his chest, his wide embrace. It’s been so long since anybody had touched you liked this-- touched you at all.

‘‘All mine, my beautiful angel. Ah, you drive me crazy.’‘ He continued whispering sweet nothings, pressing soft kisses down to the slope of your neck, hands snaking underneath the hem of your shirt to smooth his long fingers up the soft skin of your stomach. “I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

You’d known Seokjin for a while now, but it had been innocent, a simple platonic friendship until now. But in all honesty, the desire-- no, the gravity, had been there all along. Just.. Neither of you acted on it until now.

The desire for this man grew the closer you became, the innocent touches, the friendly hugs. You craved more, and more- but you were shy.

Seokjin felt like he was going insane throughout, all he wanted was to feel you underneath his palms. How did the two of you end up here? It was all a case of serendipity in his own mind.

You stayed over at his place because you felt sad and lonely, and he was the only one who could cheer you up with his goofy jokes and soft smile. Not to mention his infectious laughter. Then, you’d decided to repay the favour by cooking him breakfast. Suddenly, Seokjin had come up to embrace you from behind. And here you were. Too precious for him to not take his chance on you.

“Y/N...’‘ Jin paused to spin you around, facing him. He cages you between his arms, leaning his palms against the counter. “I’ve always wanted... this-- you, for as long as I can remember.’‘ A short pause, his eyes looking into yours with intent, looking for any sign of discomfort. ‘‘I want to kiss you, touch you...’‘ There was so much more he wanted to do, the sparkle of his lust swirling in his dark irises. He didn’t need to say it. “Do you want me?”

You nodded, a soft exhale slipping past your lips. A breath you didn’t know you were holding until Seokjin inched his face closer to yours.

‘‘I need you to say it out loud. I need to hear it, that you want me.”

‘‘I want you, Seokjin.’‘ Your cheeks heated up immediately. Thinking it was one thing, but admitting it out loud made it real. Jin’s tongue poked out to wet his plush lips before they morphed into a wide smile. It was genuine, he was genuinely happy that you wanted him too. Finally. He reached to turn off the stove, the smile on his face still unwavering as he whispered into your ear. ‘’Don’t wanna burn down the damn house, do we?’’ A small giggle emitted from his lips before he focused back on you, his wide frame easily causing you to shrink beneath him. One hand cupped your face, drawing you in for a kiss. His pillowy lips felt like silk as he moved them against yours, it felt so natural-- yet so foreign. You whined quietly when he pulled away for a mere second to gaze down, his free hand hiding underneath the skirt you were wearing to find your clothed cunt. He used the entirety of his palm to cup it, squeezing lightly to feel the heat of you radiate right back into his hand.

‘‘I’ll make you feel so good, my pretty girl.’‘ Seokjin closes the distance between your lips again, groaning into your mouth when he feels the pool of wetness gather into the fabrics of your panties. He used the pads of his fingers to rub from your covered hole to find the swell of your clit, circling it with a gentle precision, experimenting and observing the reactions your body gives him. ‘‘You’re already so wet. Bet you haven’t been touched in so long.. My poor baby.’‘ Jin pouts, his lips grazing yours as he withdrew his face just enough to be able to see every expression he could get from you. ‘‘Need to take care of you properly, every single day if you want me to.”

‘‘Y-yes, ah...’‘ You threw your head back, leaning back against the counter further, heavy puffs of breaths pushing through your kiss swollen lips. ‘‘Please Jin, don’t tease...’‘

Seokjin obliged, tugging your panties to the side, the arousal seeping out of your soppy hole clinging onto the fabrics as he moved it. He cursed under his breath, immediately allowing himself to feel, rubbing two fingers between your folds, coating his digits so, so quickly.

‘‘Oh my god, baby... I almost feel bad for you, your body is so responsive.’‘

‘‘J-just keep touching me, please... My body too..’‘

‘‘I’ll spend every single day worshiping you, just like you deserve.’‘ Jin used the tip of his finger to tease your little hole, feeling it clench and unclench in anticipation. His free hand pulled your shirt above your head, internally thanking any higher power for the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. Wasting no time, he palmed your breast, bringing your perked nipple to his mouth as he alternated between kissing, sucking, and swirling his wet tongue around it, drawing more gasps and soft moans from you. He felt his own erection ache, straining uncomfortably as it fought against the fabrics of his pants. But this was about you, and his cock could wait a little longer.

‘‘Y-yes, oh god... More, please, more.’‘ You begged between moans, arching your back to press your chest further into his mouth, aching for him to keep adoring your body.

‘‘Anything my baby wants.’‘ Jin murmured, switching to your other breast to give it the same treatment as the other. He slowly prodded at your hole until he felt your arousal dribble down your thigh and his hand. Jin moaned, his voice vibrating against your nipple as he finally sunk two fingers inside of you, the tightness had his cock pulsating as it remained untouched. Fuck, he needed you bad. ‘‘Baby...’‘ Jin whined after letting go of your nipple with a pop of his lips, kissing his way up your chest to your collarbone. ‘‘W-what is it, Jinnie?’’

‘‘I want to fuck you so, so badly...My cock hurts from hearing you moan, and feeling your tight pussy squeeze my fingers so hard.’‘ The filth coming from Jin’s mouth grew with his arousal. He pumped his long fingers into you, the wet sounds driving the two you insane. They were slightly crooked, digging against parts of your fleshy insides that had you drooling.

“Fuck me, I want it.. I want you.’‘ You looked into his slightly widened eyes, he seemed surprised to hear such words come from you, the normally so shy, reserved girl he knew. But god, did he love hearing it. It was just for him, and nobody else.

‘‘I’m big...’‘ Jin warned, his mischievious grin growing as he slows down his fingers, still massaging your insides with the entirety of his fingers. ‘‘You want me to fuck you with my big, fat... ?’‘ He didn’t finish his sentence, raising an eyebrow as he watched you crumble underneath his ministrations, the bulge in his pants visibly twitching at the sight.

‘‘Yes, stop teasing me Jin... Just please, fuck me with your fat cock before I go insane.’‘ Your voice broke into a cry in need, rutting against his hand for more. But it wasn’t enough, you needed more. ‘’More!’’

The neediness in your voice had Seokjin trembling in the immense lust he felt for you. He withdrew his hand, already tugging down his pants along with his underwear, his rigid length sprung up, tip reddened and leaking with his own arousal. He used his slick, coated fingers to lubricate his length, stroking himself slowly as he helped you up to sit on the counter with his other, positioning himself between your spread legs. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit, forcing your folds to spread for him. He scrunched his nose in a small smile at the annoyed whine you let out when he kept teasing your swollen clit with his mushroom tip, before finally pushing inside. He didn’t waste time, the wetness of the two of you providing an easy entrance as he drilled his hips into yours until he was fully nestled inside.

Seokjin swore that if there was a heaven, this was it.

And if this were a sin, he’d gladly go to hell.

‘‘Oh, fuck yes... The sweetest, your pussy feels so good baby.’‘ He praised, placing his hands on your waist to keep you in place as he begun to move, not even attempting to bite back his breathy moans. You felt so good, and he wanted you to know how amazing your cunt felt around him.

‘‘Ah, Jin, yes, yes... More!’‘ You laid back on the counter, keeping yourself up on your elbows as you watched the crease between his brows grow more prominent. He was focused, determined to find the angle that would make you feel as good as possible.

‘‘You’re so greedy for my cock, baby-- I fucking love it.’‘ Jin grunted in pleasure when he felt your cunt clench harder around him, and his pace picked up in speed. He thrusted with more greed of his own, your body jolting in his grasp until you no longer could hold yourself up on your elbows, letting yourself lay down flat on your back. Your breasts were a sinful sight with every thrust, entrancing Jin as all he could do was stare, his lips parting in the pleasure he felt, his hips smacking against your ass.

‘‘Gonna cum soon baby... Please, c-can I cum inside?’‘ Jin asked, one hand on your stomach, pressing down to feel his fat cock lightly bulging your lower abdomen, his other hand moved down to focus on your throbbing clit, rubbing it in fast motions in tandem with the way he fucked you.

‘‘Yes, yeah, please.’‘ Your words were incoherent at this point, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm build up. ‘‘Cum in me, cum in me, I’m gonna cum too-- fuck, fuck, fuck!’‘

Seokjin felt your orgasm squeezing him in a pulsating pattern, your legs tensing up as you gushed on his cock. He didn’t falter in speed, continuing to thrust into you faster, harder, and greedier than ever before as he chased his own orgasm.

‘‘Gonna pump you full of my cum, my beautiful baby, oh-- oh god, yes..’‘ He spared your clit from further abuse, instead grabbing your waist to pull your body up, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. His hips stuttered after a few more deep thrusts, and he came; so, so hard. A throaty moan slipped past his lips, the attempt to muffle himself into your skin was useless-- you felt too fucking good.

‘‘I’m cumming so much, baby..’‘ He whined, remaining deep inside of your flesh as his cock throbbed, filling you up with his spurts of white, hot cum.

‘‘You’re filling me up so well, Jin...’‘ You breathed out a praise, one so sweet that it had his heart skipping a beat. He pulled back to look at you, cupping your face in his large hands. He leaned in to kiss your swollen lips, so softly that it felt like silk grazing your skin.

Seokjin smiled into the kiss, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks as he whispered...

‘‘You’re crazy beautiful.’‘

#fic: crazy beautiful #yandere seokjin #yandere kim seokjin #yandere bts #bts smut #seokjin smut #kim seokjin smut #seokjin x female reader #seokjin x you #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x female reader #kim seokjin x you #bangtanarmynet

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Birthday Treat (Soft! Yandere Hoseok)

203 - Are you teasing me, love? You know how I get when you tease me.

207 - It’s not fair - stop that, stop doing that! You’re mine!

209 - The way you say my name feels so fucking good... keep saying it.

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, DO NOT READ IF BELOW 18, (subtle) Yandere behaviour, possessive themes, penetrative sex

Word Count: 1.8K

a/n: thank you to @love-and-other-possibilities for requesting 203, 207 and 209 with hoseok, hope you like it!! the ending is bad bc i can't do endings but ah well :/ and also a very happy birthday to our hope, literally the only man to ever exist, Jung Hoseok <3

Birthday Treat

Upon reentering the bedroom, you were greeted with the amusing sight of Hoseok sprawled across the bed. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, as they had been ever since you discreetly slipped out of his arms a few minutes ago. He was not awake enough to stop you, but it seemed he had thrown a little unconscious tantrum in your absence, judging by the way the sheets had tangled around his ankles.

You bit down a smile, setting the plate you were carrying on the bedside table, before bracing your hands on either side of him and leaning in. His eyelashes fluttered as your breath fanned across his face and you idly wondered what he was dreaming about. You, probably.

Your theory was proved correct when you ducked down to blow on the shell of his ear. Your name slipped out of his mouth in a whine and, before you even got to start running your tongue along his skin, his arms wrapped around you and twisted your torso until you were pinned underneath him.

“Sunshine,” He breathed, his voice low and gravelly from just having woken up. Your core clenched pleasantly at his tone, something he probably guessed at, hence the sleepy smirk fixed to his face.

“Why did you run away before I woke up? You’ve never done that before.” The words were muttered into your neck as he ran his nose along the column of it, and you tilted your head absently to give him better access, prompting a low rumble of approval from him.

“Well, today’s a special day, Hobi.” You replied evenly, as if you couldn’t feel his hands caressing along your side, moving gradually lower and lower.

“Oh, really? Why is today special?” He asked, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards as his hands tugged your waistband.

“Isn’t it obvious?” At his smirk, you continued. “It’s special because it’s a Tuesday.”

He pulled away, an expression of confusion lingering on his face for a moment before melting into a knowing smile as he sat back on his heels.

“Oh, really, sunshine? Why are Tuesday’s so special?”

“Well,” You began, lifting up your fingers to tick things off, “I got my first job on a Tuesday, I saw my first snow on a Tuesday, I met you on a Tuesday…” That caused Hoseok’s smirk to melt into a genuine smile, and his eyes shone fondly as he tugged you onto his lap.

“Wow, Tuesday’s do sound kinda special, huh? But, you know the other reason why today’s special?” He prompted, and you rolled your eyes with a giggle before giving in.

“Of course I do. It’s your birthday.”

He smiled triumphantly. “Correct, sunshine. It’s my birthday, and that means I should get a gift, right?” His head tilted suggestively, and you bit your lip, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

“Yeah, I actually had something in mind… it’s what I was preparing earlier…” Your made your tone deliberately sultry, and his eyes widened slightly as his arms tightened around you.

“That- that’s good. Great. Okay. Show me.” He commanded, licking his lips as you pulled back.

You shifted off the bed and, much to Hoseok’s confusion, you twisted round and grabbed the plate on the bedside table, presenting it to him with a flourish.

“Kimchi egg skillet!” You announced, relishing his bewildered expression. “Your favourite! I’ve been practising all week.”

You refused to acknowledge the eyebrow Hoseok raised at you expectantly as you set the plate down on his lap, still warm from where you had vacated it mere seconds ago.

“Go on, see if you like how it tastes.” You encouraged gleefully.

“You know, I think there are other things I’d like to taste…” He remarked, staring at the apex of your thighs pointedly. You tutted at him disapprovingly.

“No way, I did not waste twelve eggs trying to make that only for it to go to waste.”

Hoseok huffed out an amused breath. “Are you teasing me, love? You know how I get when you tease me.”

“No, how could you suggest such a thing?” You asked, scandalised, making Hoseok almost choke on his breakfast as he laughed.

.......

“I actually have a few birthday presents for you today.” You called out to Hoseok. Your voice was raised since he was in the sitting room, leafing through that day’s newspaper. You were still in the bedroom, fixing the finishing touches to your outfit.

“Oh really?” He asked sarcastically, “Are you going to bake cookies for me as well?”

“It isn’t cookies, but I’d like to think it’ll taste as sweet.” You purred, leaving the bedroom door ajar and leaning against the frame seductively.

As soon as you had seen the red babydoll set on the website, you knew it would drive Hoseok insane. And it seemed you were right, judging by the way his fists clenched so hard he ripped his paper. He didn’t seem to notice, letting it fall to the floor as he stood abruptly, eyes fixed on your lace-wrapped body.

“Fuck.” He ground out, and his voice… you had to remind yourself to stay focused.

“Do you like it?” You asked innocently, twirling around. You heard a sharp inhale as he saw the back — a completely sheer panel of lace, making no attempt to conceal your thong.

When you faced him again, Hoseok’s eyes were dark and intense, like he was one step away from devouring you.

“So, what were you thinking for lunch, maybe pizza?” He groaned as you strode into the kitchen, stalking after you purposely.

“Sunshine, don’t do this to me.” He whined, eyes raking up and down your body almost desperately.

“What ever do you mean, Hoseok?” You asked, darting behind the kitchen counter.

“Stop teasing, c’mon, it’s my birthday.”

“Teasing?” You repeated cluelessly, leaning over across the counter as if you wanted to hear him better. His eyes immediately were drawn to your chest, before snapping back up exasperatedly.

“It’s not fair- stop that, stop doing that!” He burst out suddenly as you bit your lip in faux-sympathy. You allowed the lip to slip out from between your teeth, to Hoseok’s relief.

You began running your tongue slowly over your lips to soothe the swollen skin, and Hoseok’s tether snapped. He crossed around the end of the counter and cornered you, bringing his hands up either side of your head to cage you against the cabinet.

“You’re mine.” He growled. Your breath caught in your throat as he started sucking on your throat fiercely, marking you. “If I tell you to stop doing something, you stop. Your body is mine. You obey me. That’s what good girls do.”

“Maybe I don’t - ah, fuck, Hoseok - maybe I don’t want to be a - mmh - a good girl.” You panted as his teeth grazed the sensitive underside of your jaw.

“Yes, I can see that.” Hoseok muttered derisively, pulling on the fabric of the lace teddy insistently, “Only bad girls wear things like these, right? You want me to treat you like a bad girl?” Your reply was lost in a wanton moan and he snorted, “You know what? It doesn’t matter what you want. Your body is mine, I can do what I want with it.”

He ripped off the lingerie, flinging it over his shoulder without a second glance, leaving you to shiver as your skin was exposed to the cool air. He pulled back as if he was simply viewing you like you were a masterpiece at a gallery, prohibited from human contact.

“Hoseok,” you whined, trying to entice him back to finish what he had started, but it seemed your roles were now reversed. Hoseok was the tease, simply watching as you writhed in desperation, not daring to move towards him because he told you to stay, and you knew that your body was his, and not your own.

You whispered his name again pleadingly and he finally relented, pressing you against the wall again and dipping his hand into your panties. His rough fingers were a relief, filling the emptiness inside you as they ruthlessly rubbed over that spot that made the coiling heat in your stomach start to unravel deliciously.

You chanted his name in a litany of prayers as he pumped two, no, three fingers into you, stretching you out impatiently.

“I’m ready, please, I’m ready, just- fuck, Hoseok - just fuck me. Please.” You begged. Hoseok swore against your lips, hands withdrawing and you sobbed in relief when you heard his belt buckle clatter as it hit the floor.

“The way you say my name feels so fucking good… keep saying it.” He told you as he pushed in slowly. Even when you were so immersed in the feeling of him stretching you out and filling you up so deeply, you knew to obey him.

“So good, Hoseok. Feels so good - ah!” He positioned his hips in a way that each thrust pressed on a bundle of nerves within you. He was relentless, pounding into you as you bounced against the wall, having no choice but to just take it.

“You’re mine.” Hoseok hissed against your throat, before continuing the pattern of purpling kisses he had left.

“Yours, only yours, always, Hoseok.” You babbled, climbing higher and higher to your peak. When his other hand came down to fiddle with your clit, you shattered around him. He didn’t pause in his thrusts, even when the oversensitivity made you scream. He just kept pounding and, soon enough, you were nearing your climax again.

“So fucking tight, baby, fuck. You were made for this, made for me. You’re mine.” He kept repeating mindlessly as he shoved himself into you over and over, uncaring of whether you enjoyed it or not, and why should he, your body was made for his enjoyment, not the other way around.

Regardless, when you tightened and spasmed around him a second time, your cry of his name echoing in his ears, he finally came, pumping his seed into you as you panted and writhed on his cock. After a moment, he slipped out of you and the two of you fell into each other in a mess of sweat and come and exhaustion.

“Did you… like your birthday present?” You panted, and Hoseok somehow mustered the energy to give you one of his brilliant smiles that had brightened up your day more times than you could count.

“Of course I did, sunshine. I can’t wait to spend every birthday like this with you. I love you.”

#yandere #yandere bts #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts hoseok x reader #bts jhope x reader #yandere hoseok #yandere hobi #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #jung hoseok #bts jung hoseok #bts hoseok smut #bts jhope smut #bts smut #bts reader insert

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vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

Another Round

✴︎ ANOTHER ROUND ✴︎

1.7k words. In between chess games, Anatole tries, and fails, to figure Oz’mandias out.

For @asras3rdeye, to whom Ozy belongs to, because why have one nerd pining, when you can have two.

What happened when one fell prey of one’s own conventions? And of the fairly set conventions between others? Anatole didn’t know. Usually, he thought himself resourceful enough to untie himself from plethora situations, something he successfully did on the regular. However, he doesn’t remember the last time he had to undo his own set of rules.

Oz’mandias was… confusing. Anatole was never very sure what to do with him. He hadn’t been lying to his cousins all the many times he had stated he was his chess partner alone — he was glad to have their weekly chess games, chat with Ozy over the table and use his brain in something which wasn’t reading documents or drafting things, or worrying about this or that diplomatic envoys and what they might or might not want, after detecting several degrees of you’re-not-being-completely-truthful in their words.

He didn’t expect his job to be any different, yet that didn��t mean he didn’t appreciate those respites of human connection. He liked his games with Ozy for the same reason he liked working in the City so much. He got to talk to people and learn from them in ways you couldn’t when it was you, your papers, your desk and your office. It kept Anatole humble to remind himself who and what he was working for, in a very similar way than losing to Oz’mandias in chess did. It made him try new things, come up with his own strategies and pour himself into it whole-heartedly, like he did with those things which truly interested him.

Not that Ozy always won. Not quite. He was better at chess than Anatole but he was far more comfortable in traditional patterns than Anatole ever was. Structure was his aide, true, but only in the measure which it let itself be accommodated to Anatole’s many necessities and ambitions. At the verge of 30 he is more than aware of his own unconventionality, and much more willing to use it in his favour than he was 10 years ago.

That he had learnt to trust his own propensity to veer from convention didn’t mean that he had all the answers. He thought he had just stated the opposite, but at least when it came to his job he always found them: if he himself didn’t have them, someone in his team did. That was half the point in teamwork. Chess, however, was a lone man’s sport, when it came to Ozy he had no one he could ask. Kind of. He could ask Kipling, but as far as he was aware Kipling tolerated Ozy, barely now starting to truly coexist after things which Anatole was not privy to.

It was him, his brain and a game of chess per week.

He wasn’t exactly sure when everything had begun to change — when Ozy began observing, catching up to his patterns, making winning more difficult. He didn’t know when Ozy had stopped talking as much and began listening instead. He didn’t know when, or why Ozy began flexing his arms distractedly before picking a piece and making a move. Perhaps the last one had been his own doing. Some games ago, Ozy had dropped a piece on accident and Anatole had caught it for him; when Oz’mandias said thank you, Anatole squeezed his forearm, eyes twinkling with something warm that slipped to them unallowed.

Maybe all of this was his doing, him being the one to blame for his own predicament. Maybe it was how he seemed to throw himself into things he was passionate about with everything he had that had created this halo of what-is-truly-going-on-here. Was Ozy enticing him? Somehow? Anatole didn’t think so, but there was a keen interest in his voice, and he doesn’t remember the last time someone listened to him ramble on and on so attentively.

That’s a lie, he does. One thing is listening to the debonair diplomat, and another was listening to Anatole in private, where he allowed himself to just exist in his complexities and multitudes without paying attention to whether it was or not appropriate. Not that only people who had been interested in Anatole beyond a platonic connection listened to him, that’s a lie. His family did, his cousins did — Milenko and Amparo at least, Artemisia wavered — his friends, for whom he lived and loved, also did. His issue with Ozy was Anatole could not tell what interest any of them had in it.

There was friendship in his words, but there was something he could not distinguish the cause of. When people were themselves in a state of confusion Anatole could pick up from the confession itself (if people had a good grasp of their emotional responses and correct ways of dealing with them) to all of the feelings which aided in creating the confused state, yet access to none of its origin. Sometimes Ozy was the former, others the latter, where affection, hesitance, doubt and genuine interest rolled off his tongue.

Was it him? Anatole longed for that option in the same measure he dreaded it. Was it someone else? Was Ozy unaccustomed to friendship? Was the fact he hadn’t really settled in Vesuvia yet? Or rather, he had done so physically but his heart was still elsewhere? Was it all of these and more Anatole could not have any idea of? He didn’t know and it was driving him crazy.

His cousin’s sarcastic snort when he insisted he was studying up new chess moves because he wanted to impress Oz’mandias as a friend, didn’t help.

“Ah, yes,” Amparo said, “because it’s when you’re friends with someone that you desperately want to be noticed by them.”

Anatole shot her a look.

“Alright I’ll let it be, but Nana— you know if you actually want to talk about it, we’re here, right?”

Anatole wanted to, but he didn’t even know where to begin. He made a pained noise that made Amparo laugh before throwing her arms around his neck. “Too many thoughts.”

“Way too many. It would be easier if I found an excuse to do something with him that isn’t playing chess, without it sounding strictly like it’s platonic or strictly like it’s a date.”

“So you do like him?”

“Yes, but I don't know, Lele. I don’t know. He’s my friend, I like him as a friend, but there’s something that I can’t place between us, and I have no clue where it came from, and it’s driving me insane.”

“You could just ask.”

“No, no I can’t just ask. Don’t give me that look. It’s just I know Ozy, alright? We don’t just play silently, we talk, and he mentioned in passing how liking people is weird. Usually when he’s told someone likes them he just likes people back, and then he said a myriad of things but you get the idea.”

“Sounds to me like he could’ve been waiting for you to say something.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want him to like me because I like him. I want him to like me because I’m me, Lele.”

Amparo hummed. “Doesn’t Lenko date his cousin or something?”

“Kipling? I’m not asking Kipling. Just—”

“No?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good luck.”

Anatole sighed, throwing himself back on the chair he was sitting on, groaning into his hands. Eventually he went back to the book he was reading and the notes he was taking, with its poor yet adequate sketches of some of the chess pieces and the moves he wanted to try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he supposed, only if it applied to the game right now. One thing was venturing, the other was taking a shot in the dark with one eye closed and pretending you knew what you were doing. Anatole was very much not going to do that.

He’d find a way to spend more time with him, he told himself, but now their weekly games would have to do. With a new week, a new game came. This one found Anatole and Ozy having round after round of them, even stopping to get some fresh air and refreshments together, both of them standing close to each other in the small balcony near Anatole’s office, and then finding their way back in again for another round.

This time Anatole won, he tried his luck with one of the new things he had studied previous to their game, and it worked.

“But, that’s— that’s new,” Ozy said, bewildered. Anatole thought it was a cute look on him.

“Abaco, how dare you not prepare him for this,” Anatole laughed, taking Ozy’s king. “I have met a traveller from an antique land,” he began, reciting absentmindedly as he played with the King, moving it between his fingers. “My name is Oz’mandias, King of Kings,” Anatole looked at his friend, a smirk and a raised eyebrow on his face, “look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing besides remain.”

His attention had gone back to the King however, and when he looked back at Oz’mandias, he was staring. Anatole blinked, and the other cleared his throat, focusing on something else.

“That’s not fair,” Ozy complained, “I’ll never finish figuring you out if you keep pulling new moves.”

It was like everything stopped moving, impossibly still for a moment as Anatole took in his words. He stared back at him, aghast, his mouth hanging half open — all of his teasing, his cocky brow and debonair flew out of the window, just like that. His face felt too hot not to be blushing, and of course it’d be just his luck that now his elusive blush decides to appear.

“I— uh, thank you,” Anatole has never sounded more ineloquent in his life, but now it was Ozy’s turn to be surprised.

“For what?”

“For paying attention… should we play another round?”

He asked before the topic could go on, heart raising in his chest. Ozy said yes, and began arranging the pieces once more. One last round with the excuse of not leaving Anatole’s presence just yet.

As he made his first move Anatole wondered what would happen if Ozy had decided to wipe out his little smirk by throwing all the pieces away and just kissing him. Incredibly dramatic of a thought, he was well aware, but it was better to think about dramatic impossibilities than think about how their knees almost brushed as Anatole chose to move a pawn.

#the arcana #oc x oc #ozy #coco's ocs #aelius anatole #my writing #so smart - the two of them - and so useless #the lost king and the sun

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let-it-raines · 4 years

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Catch Me If You Can (37/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: A thanks to all of you for genuinely being the most wonderful people who are so kind in however you do or do not interact with me, and a special thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta and @imagnifika for making this cover ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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A car horn blares ten floors down before the sound of two more follow, and Emma groans before twisting her head and burying her face in her pillow, hoping to drown out the noise. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding everyone and everything, and the only sounds Emma should be able to hear are the quick turn of the ceiling fan above Killian’s bed and the steady pace of Killian’s breathing behind her as his hand flexes over her stomach while his breath comes out warmly against the nape of her neck.

Instead of those noises, however, she hears the sound of cars blaring outside, and while this place unfortunately has the moniker of the City That Never Sleeps, Emma certainly wishes to.

Groaning at the reverberation of yet another horn sounding, Emma tucks her face further into the softness of the pillow, hoping that her mind can somehow will the noise to go away, and she puts all of her energy and focus into falling back asleep since there are still hours until the sun will rise high into the sky and her alarm will blare much like the horns outside to tell her that the day ahead of her as finally arrived.

Rough fingers press into the skin of her stomach once more, stretching out before coming back together, and Emma shifts back into Killian’s embrace from where they had separated while sleeping. He twitches slightly, and since she’s not sure if it was unconscious or not, Emma tentatively rolls her hips back into Killian’s so that his hardened length settles between her ass while heat begins to flicker across her body. Killian’s fingers flinch once more, but this time they tug her body back into him while his hot breath once again brushes over her neck to cause her skin to break out in goosebumps.

And then there’s the soft kiss right over her pulse point.

“Bloody car horn,” Killian grumbles into her skin, kissing her again. “What could possibly be that annoying that they have to wake everyone in the building?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

His nails start tracing along her stomach underneath her sweater that she put on before bed to combat the chill that always moves through Killian’s apartment, even more so now that it’s cold outside and there’s no escape from the crisp late October air. The patterns are nonsense, and Emma smiles to herself at the thought of Killian and his usual penchant for writing his love for her into her own skin.

He’s stupid romantic.

“We should go back to bed.”

Emma rolls her hips again, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room that is only lit by the moon and the lights of the buildings across from the apartment, and she wakes up that little bit more at the feeling of Killian moving behind her.

“Are you sure about that?” she teases.

“Oh, absolutely,” Killian says even as his hand moves up her stomach to lazily fondle her breast while his scruff scratches across the cords of her neck. “We’ve got a bit of a big day today.”

“And what’s that?”

Emma can practically feel the smile in Killian’s kiss on her shoulder, and she twists the slightest bit so that the back of her head rests against her pillow while Killian adjusts to press his hips further into her. His cheek rests against the palm of his hand that’s propped up by his elbow so that he’s looking down at her, a ghost of light flickering across him so that she can clearly see half of his face and the grin on his lips as his hand still continues to palm her breast.

“Well, you know what it is, my beautiful darling.”

Emma feigns innocence. “Do I?”

“You do.” His head dips down to lazily guide his mouth over hers, and Emma could practically melt and become one with this bed for Killian to keep kissing her like this.

“It’s the beginning of the World Series, I know.”

Killian’s brow arches high on his forehead, those little lines in the middle appearing. “Well, that is true, but it’s not why I think today is a big day.”

“You’re a shitty baseball player then.”

Killian chuckles and pinches her nipple, and heat continues to curl between her thighs so that there’s a growing ache there. “It’s your birthday, my love,” he whispers as he smiles down at her before giving her a tender kiss. “I know you haven’t forgotten about that.”

“I haven’t, no. I’m simply a bit more concerned about the game than me getting older.”

Killian hums before he’s kissing her again, his tongue beyond sinful, and by the time that he pulls back she can scarcely breathe. He’s always been able to have her panting and wanting more within minutes, and suddenly the teasing isn’t enough. Suddenly she needs much more of him, every bit of him, and she needs it soon.

The cars beeping their horns outside don’t seem so bad now.

“Let me make you forget for a little while, yeah?” he whispers as his hand trails down from her breast to beneath the elastic waistband of her pajama pants so that his fingers are running over where she’s slick with want for him. His voice is still gritty and hoarse as it always is when he’s just woken up, and Emma will forever be fond of him in the mornings with his deep voice and sleep-rumpled hair. “Fuck, Emma,” he groans as his fingers continue to move exactly where she wants him. “It’s ridiculous how much the thought of you wanting me still drives me insane.”

Her hand reaches back to cup the back of his head, fingers curling into the soft strands so that she can push his face a little bit closer to hers. “You must be on the verge of going insane then because I always want you.”

The heel of Killian’s hand presses into her bundle of nerves, and Emma lets out a pathetic whine. She doesn’t care though. She’s long stopped caring about any awkward noises or ungraceful movements that come when she’s with Killian. It’s part of life and being human, and there’s no one in the world who she is more comfortable with than Killian.

No one.

And she knows that he enjoys the noises she makes in response to his touch even if it’s a groan from him elbowing her.

“You’re right,” he mumbles, as his fingers continue to work at her, the deftness of them causing a heat more sweltering than the summer to move over her skin in waves as her brain begins to float away with thoughts of anything other than how good Killian makes her feel. “I’m simply mad about you.”

Killian pulls his hand back, and the whine Emma releases is even more pathetic. “What the hell are you doing?”

He shifts behind her as his hands pull down her pajama pants. Emma has to help, tilting her hips up and kicking away the material so that nothing separates her from the blanket resting over her. Soon, though, the heat of Killian’s skin and the trickle of the hair on his legs is pressing into her, and Emma bites her bottom lip as she feels the smooth heat of his cock press into the slickness of her folds.

Killian’s grin is wicked, and Emma’s stomach muscles quiver in anticipation of what’s coming next. She loves him so damn much that it’s ridiculous.

A year ago, he was nothing more than a cocky baseball player inadvertently determined to ruin her life. No part of her could have imagined that this is where they’d be now. She would have laughed and resisted and done everything possible to be as far away from Killian Jones as possible.

Now, though, she wants to be joined with him in every single way so that they are as close as humanly possible.

There’s a roll of his hips behind her, his heavy length teasing her, and her moan is nothing compared to the gruntled groan that Killian lets out behind her. Killian’s hand comes to wrap around her stomach over the metal of her ring once more while the other rests behind her head to bring her more comfort while her back is pressed to Killian’s front, and he nuzzles his cheek into her neck while his lips move just behind the lobe of her ear as she lifts her leg over his hip so that he can slowly push inside of her, settling deep inside of her with a pleasurable stretch that has her heartbeat quickening and her breath catching at how good the drag of him feels.

“Fuck,” she whispers, the sound escaping into the swirl of air from the ceiling fan. “You feel so good.”

“Not as good as you. I can assure you of that.”

“It doesn’t have to be a competition.”

“Oh, darling,” he sighs with a deep chuckle into her ear, “you do know that I like winning.”

And then he’s rocking his hips into her, pressing himself as deep inside of Emma as he possibly can, and Emma’s stomach flips while sweat forms at her temple and emotion lodges itself in her throat.

It’s a funny, over-emotional thing, but nights like this are her favorite. It’s the middle of the night, most of the world asleep despite the people outside who woke them up, and no one exists outside of the two of them. It’s them against the world, two people who are undeniably different and yet certainly well-matched, and as Killian moves within her, Emma wonders if she’s ever felt so entirely whole in her life.

Her blood thrums hotly within her while Killian finds a rhythm that might as well be the most beautiful music ever written, and Emma listens to it as heat and need and that continuing want pools between her thighs and over her entire body. Emma shifts her leg once more, letting Killian thrust deeper inside of her so that he is hitting the spot that would allow her to see stars even in the middle of Manhattan, and she loses any sort of composure that was hanging on by a string.

Killian is going achingly slowly, taking his time as if seconds are truly minutes and minutes are hours, and she’s perfectly fine with that until his tongue starts moving hotly against the crook between her shoulder and neck and she’s desperate for more.

“Beautiful,” he groans into her ear. “You are so beautiful. I could stay joined with you for hours if our bodies would let us.”

A shudder runs through her, and she imagines through Killian as well if the way that his movements falter is any indication, and she’s that much closer to the edge. Then Killian’s hand is moving from where it’s pressed against her stomach and down to where they’re joined, and she loses it, tumbling over the edge with a sigh that Killian captures in a fierce kiss once she’s craned her head to the side.

“I love you,” she gasps out against his breath. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His movements inside of her still for only for him to start thrusting again with purpose, obviously ready to chase his high as well now that she’s found hers. Nothing truly seems real, everything blurred except for what she feels with him, and there’s another dizzying rush of heat that comes with an overwhelming sense of love as Killian heavily pulses between her thighs while his mouth still against hers.

“I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

The words are spoken into her mouth, but they settle down in her heart. Emma is so incandescently happy in this moment that she cannot help the smile that lazily stretches from one side of her lips to the other. His chest is still pressed into her back, hair coated with sweat that sticks to her skin, and she’s pretty sure that she can feel his heartbeat with the rise and fall of his chest. That may be her own. At this point, she’s not sure where she ends and Killian begins.

“Hi,” she giggles when her eyes flicker open and she’s struck by blue.

“Hello, love,” he sighs in response, holding her close a little longer as she feels him begin to soften within her. “Happy birthday.”

“Hmm, happy World Series day.”

“I see that our priorities are still vastly different.”

“However will we make this thing between us work?”

Killian chuckles before regretfully pulling out of her, and she misses the heat of him immediately before he’s rolling to the side and opening his bedside drawer. Then there’s a cool touch as he cleans her up, and Emma snuggles back into her pillow, sated and happy and not at all caring that she’s wearing a sweater and nothing else.

Emma turns around so that she can tuck her feet between Killian’s calves and wrap her arms around his stomach while his hand curves around her waist to rest on her ass, fingers playfully squeezing like he hasn’t gotten enough of her.

She can understand that.

“I think,” he sighs in response to her question, “that we will figure that out. Remind me to find whoever it was that blared their bloody horn in the middle of the night and thank them for that.”

“It may be a bit difficult to track them down.”

“I am up to the task because I think I may be walking around with a goofy smile all day after that.”

Emma tilts her head up and rests her chin on his chest as she stares up at him, the lights from outside catching the blue in his eyes. That blue will never not be ridiculous.

There is, indeed, the goofiest smile on his face. She imagines it matches the one on hers.

“We should probably go back to sleep.”

“Eh.”

“What?”

His hand moves from her ass up to her back, tracing those patterns again. “I’m not playing today. It’s all on Rob. I can stay awake with you as long as I want. I want to soak in as much time with the darling Emma Swan as I can as she begins her twenty-eighth year.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Please tell me you’re not going to make a big deal out of today. Like, I want as lowkey as possible.”

“Damn. I’ll cancel the one hundred bouquets of roses and the crowd-wide singing to you.”

“Shut up. I’m serious.”

“As am I, love. I know that you don’t want a big deal out of today, so no big deal will be made. However, I do know that Mary Margaret did not get the memo, and she’s arranged for everyone to meet in a suite before the game so that you can have a cake and not be forgotten among the mess of today.”

Emma curls her finger around the hair on Killian’s chest that’s matted together with sweat. “Are you going to be able to be there?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “It depends on if Al lets any of us go. He’s a little bit more high strung than usual, and I don’t think even him having a new girlfriend is calming him down.”

“He probably wants to impress her by winning the World Series two years in a row.”

“Well, I can certainly understand that.”

Emma quirks a brow while her finger continues swirling around. “Do you try to impress me, twenty-nine?”

Killian’s smile falters before it’s back, and his hand falls back down to her ass. “Every damn day.”

Emma chuckles as she presses forward to kiss his collarbone before shifting once more to lazily kiss Killian so that she can taste his warmth. “You do a very good job at impressing me even though you definitely don’t have to.”

“It does come rather naturally to me. I’m a pretty impressive guy.”

Emma rolls her eyes and rests her head against her shoulder as sleep starts to catch up with her again, the lids of her eyes clothing. “There’s the Killian I know and love.”

“At your service, milady.”

When she wakes, Emma knows that it’s hours later from the way that sunlight filters through the windows. The shades have been pulled down since the middle of the night, but only halfway as the glow of the late October sun reaches through the room. Emma’s thighs ache, something, she notices immediately, but it’s a pleasant soreness that makes her mind flashback to a few hours ago. Immediately, she turns to seek out Killian in bed, but he’s not there. In his place are simply a card and a small box that has her heart pounding in her chest so loudly that she’s surprised all of Manhattan cannot hear it.

Emma reaches over and grabs the card first, her name written out in Killian’s sprawling script, and she smiles to herself as she reads his message.

Happiest of birthdays, my love.

Leaving you a card and a gift (and it is not your only gift, I promise) on the bed while you sleep does not count as “making a big deal out of things” so you best not complain. It’s been quite the year for you, a rollercoaster without a seatbelt some would say, and the only thing I can wish is that this year is somehow better for you than the last and that a smile continues to grace your lips.

You are the best part of my day every day, even on the ones where we’re arguing, and I cannot thank you enough for loving me even though I am the man who pressed start on last year’s rollercoaster ride.

I am where I am today because of you, Emma Swan. You are everything.

All of my love,

Killian.

Sweet, stupid, sentimental fool.

Emma sits up in bed and adjusts the plush comforter over her legs. She needs to put pants back on, the chill in the room too much for her, but she’s far too curious as to what’s in this box. Slowly, she opens it, and inside rests a slim silver chain that glistens in the sunlight with a small circular pendant at the bottom that has the number twenty-nine inscribed into it.

“Elsa assured me that it wasn’t an asshole move to give you a pendant with my number on it.” She looks up to where he’s standing in the archway of his bedroom, already dressed in his clothes for practice and holding a mug of coffee in his hand. “I probably asked her at least sixty-seven times. And it’s also, you know, for the ring. The chain you have it on now is a chunky old thing, and you deserve something a little more delicate.”

Her hand drops reaches down into her sweater and pulls out the chain so that it and the ring rests on top of her sweater. “There is nothing wrong with this chain.”

“Yeah,” Killian smiles, “there is. You deserve a nicer one.”

Emma doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead of speaking, she pulls the chain off of her neck and undoes the clasp before hooking the ring onto the new chain so that it falls down next to the pendant. “Can you put it on me?”

Killian nods in affirmation before walking toward her and putting the mug of coffee on the side table before gathering her hair up and moving it to the side so that it’s not covering her neck. He softly smiles at her, obviously nervous over his gift, before his hand brushes over hers to take the chain so that he can wrap it around her neck and clasp it together so that the ring and pendant fall just between her breast. Then there’s a soft, lingering kiss against the nape of her neck, and all Emma can do is smile.

“Thank you, Killian. I love this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, kissing his cheek. “It’s perfect.”

The smile that stretches across his face warms her heart, and she swears that she sees blush gracing his cheeks. “I didn’t want to wake you since you don’t have to be at the fields until three, but I’ve got to go to practice.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to pay the fine and stay in bed with me? I’m feeling very motivated for a repeat of earlier.”

Killian groans and moves to rest his forehead against her shoulder, his intake of breath audible. “Please don’t tempt me like that. I have paid the fine many a time before for you, but I can’t do it today.”

“I know,” she soothes, squeezing his bicep. “I know. Go to practice. It’s a big day for you and the guys, and I don’t want anything to come between that.”

“I know. I love you, and I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Absolutely. I love you too.” Killian kisses her shoulder before pulling up and standing from the bed so that he can walk over to his bedroom doorway. “Aren’t you forgetting your coffee?”

“That’s for you, love.”

Emma groans in appreciation. “You are the best man in the world.”

“I can’t wait to tell Dave that he’s lost his title.”

And then he’s gone and she’s left in the glorious softness of this bed with a new chain around her neck and a warm cup of coffee in her hand.

It’s day one of the World Series, and there’s absolutely nothing better than this.

Nothing.

-/-

Emma adjusts the faux leather of her skirt as she walks down the hallway to the suite where Mary Margaret’s text instructed her to go. Apparently, she didn’t think through her outfit choice today because no matter how cute she looks in a tight skirt with high suede boots and a black sweater, it’s a little bit difficult to walk at her normal pace. Jeans would have been a better choice, but she was saving that for tomorrow since the temperatures are dipping down a little further despite it being a day game.

ObviouslyObviously, all of the choices she has to make on a daily basis are the most difficult.

Regardless of her limited movement, Emma keeps walking, flashing her ID badge to the guard, and steps inside where she’s immediately bombarded by blue and white balloons as well as two giant gold ones of the numbers “two” and “eight.”

This is exactly what Killian meant when he had no control over whatever it is that Mary Margaret was doing to celebrate today.

“Happy birthday, Emma,” Addison squeals as she runs through the balloons to reach Emma, her arms going around Emma’s waist and squeezing so hard that Emma’s intestines likely shift.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she laughs, hugging Addy back and taking a deep breath when she lets go. “Did you get me all of these balloons?”

“Nope. Mommy and Mriss s. Mary Margaret did.”

“Oh, well, that is certainly nice of them.” Emma awkwardly bends down and picks Addy up even if Addy is getting far too big for her to do that, before walking through the balloons to where everyone Emma knows who doesn’t play baseball is waiting for her with bright smiles on their faces. “Hi, everyone. Thank you for the balloons and the cake that I’m sure is in the fridge and will make it hard for me to stay in this skirt.”

“It’s your birthday,” Mary Margaret sighs as she walks forward to give Emma a hug. “Calories don’t count. You look fantastic, by the way.”

“Thank you, Marg. You’re so sweet.”

Emma has to put Addison down before she makes the rounds to hug everyone in the room. Anna and Elsa squeeze her far too tightly, while Liam and Kris hug her like a normal person. Leo gives her a half-hearted hug, too distracted by watching TV to pay too much attention to her, and David hugs her like he always hugs her with his hand cupping the back of her head as he wishes her a happy birthday and shares just how much he loves her.

She hates that Ruby is downstairs working and that Graham is still at the precinct, but she’ll see both of them later today. She still can’t believe they’re getting married.

“Has Killian given you your present yet, Emma?” Elsa asks her once they’ve all settled down on the couches, plates of cake in all of their laps.

“Yeah, he has.” Emma pulls the chain out from underneath her shirt and shows Elsa. “Did you help him pick it out?”

“No, it was all on him. He asked my advice on it, though, because he wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate gift.”

“I love it. It’s very me, I think.”

“Killian too,” Anna sighs as her hand reaches over to touch the chain. “He’s never been one for big gifts, even for himself. His apartment is the most extravagant thing that he owns. This is so pretty. I think I might have to steal it from you.”

“Over Emma’s dead body,” David laughs. “She misplaced that ring last week, and I have never seen her so frantic. She’s not letting anyone touch it.”

Her cheeks flame up. “It’s not something that can exactly be replaced. Need I remind you of the time we had to do some special plumbing to get your wedding rink back from the sink in the men’s bathroom at the office.”

“You had to do what now?” Mary Margaret asks, a high-pitched squeak to her voice.

“Nothing, honey,” David promises even as he cuts his eyes at Emma. “I’ve still got my ring, and that’s all that matters.”

“If it makes everyone feel better,” Kris adds in, “I’m on what hast has to be my fifth wedding ring. I swear I lose one every Christmas season when I’m working.”

“The guy at the jewelry store has the information on file so that it’s always the same ring.” Anna shrugs her shoulders, like she’s used to it. “I have no idea how he loses them like that because it’s, like, pretty much glued to his fingers.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Losing your ring doesn’t qualify as a talent, Kris.”

“Shut up, Liam.”

“That’s not a nice word,” Lucy yells out, chocolate icing spread across her lips. “You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to ask him to please lower his voice.”

“Yeah, Kris,” Emma teases as she scoops up another bite of cake. “Ask Liam to lower his voice.”

“You get too much joy out of this.”

“I just like that the four-year-old is in charge of you.”

“I have been married to Anna for five years. You have been dating Killian for half a year. And yet you’re the one with the girls wrapped around your finger.”

Emma waggles her fingers in the air and winks over at Kris. “I learned all the best tricks at how to make children like me with Leo.”

“And by that,” David explains, “she means that she gave him candy even when we told her not to.”

“I think it really started when I gave him icing when he was ten months old. Leo’s never looked back. Right, kid?”

“Yep,” he sighs. He’s got icing all over his lips too, and it makes Emma laugh. “And now I get really cool seats at baseball games.”

“Hey,” David scoffs. “I have taken you to baseball games for years.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Ungrateful, I tell you. Completely and totally ungrateful.”

“Last week,” Liam starts, “I braided Addy’s hair, as I do quite frequently so I’m not a novice, and there was a small loop out of place that she went on about until I dropped her at school. I swear, sometimes it’s like life really is paying me back for every dumb thing I’ve done through the kids.”

Emma’s phone beeps, and she looks down at it to see a message from Ruby that she needs to come downstairs and get prepped for the game day introduction. Emma closes down the screen on her phone and takes several quick bites of her cake before standing up from the couch and placing her plate down on the coffee table.

“Thank you guysyou, guys. I love you, but I’ve got to go to work. Do your magic and pull the guys through, okay? If not for our sakes, do it for Killian so we don’t have to deal with him being all moody.”

“Amen,” they all echo from around her.

They all know Killian far too well.

-/-

There’s a roar in the stadium, one that Emma doesn’t hear that often, and it sends chills down her spine and over every inch of her skin so that each individual hair is raised on pebbled skin.

That’s the thing about starting the Series with the home field advantage. The entire crowd is around you, cheering on your successes and bemoaning your mistakes, and that momentum doesn’t just stick around for the home game. It stays with the players when they inevitably have to travel to California and have their every movement booed and their every breath criticized. Killian has told her time and time again that when it gets to be too much out there, the lights to bright and the jeers too loud, he closes his eyes and thinks to one of those moments where he was floating on cloud nine lifted by the fans so that he can remember that what’s happening right now isn’t going to be what’s happening every single time.

Each game is different, and sometimes it takes looking back on a good moment to have things be a little less lonesome out there.

For as much as these guys are a part of a team, they’re also standing in solidarity with thousands upon thousands of eyes on them, each person waiting with baited breath.

Emma’s heart has nearly burst from her chest fifteen times tonight alone, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to make it through more games than this.

How is she going to make it through Killian pitching tomorrow when he’s only pitched two games in two months?

This was easier when she was simply a reporter and not a girlfriend.

Damn.

“You look like you’re about to hyperventilate,” Ruby says through her earpiece.

“Rubes, you have spent this entire game commentating the fact that I look like I’m going to hyperventilate or pass out or do something else equally ridiculous.”

“Some people are entertained by the game. I’m entertained by you.”

Jeff rolls his eyes next to Emma, obviously listening in to Ruby talking too. That poor man did not sign up for the two of them when he applied to be a job as a cameraman. He probably thought he’d just get to film a few baseball games.

“It’s sad how little you can be entertained by.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of this huge ass diamond ring on my finger.”

“Oh my God,” Emma mutters under her breath, and now Jeff is the one who looks like he’s about to hyperventilate. “Are you ever going to stop saying that?”

“Nope,” Ruby sighs. “I’m engaged and in love, and it’s only been three days. I have at least two weeks to be an obnoxious bride-to-be, remember?”

“Okay, but after two weeks, you’re done.”

“Please, in two weeks you and Jones are going to be holed up in his apartment fucking each other’s brains out because neither of you are smothered with work for the first time since you started dating. Baseball mating season in its truest form.”

“Ruby,” Emma shrieks, and some of the other reporters that are sitting next to her back behind the bullpen look over to her. “You can’t say that over the earpiece.”

“I’m sure Jeff doesn’t mind.”

“I mind,” he pipes in. “I definitely mind.”

“Strike three,” the umpire says, flashing the signal as Lorenzo walks off the field and back to the Dodgers’ dugout.

And game one goes to the Yankees.

“Go ahead and get ready to do interviews, you guys,” Ruby instructs them, her voice mellowing out back to the voice she uses when she’s seriously working. “Roseman has done a hell of a job closing out the game, but they want you to interview Scarlet and King.”

“Are you serious?” Emma groans.

“I know, I know. King is an asshole, but he hit the triple that gave us the lead. You’ve just got to do it.”

Emma would release a breath of relief, but she doesn’t even get a chance. She’s too busy trying to navigate the field that’s full of players and coaches and even a few family members that have somehow stuck around. Then it’s a mess of interviews, and thankfully, Will and Arthur do a joint one so that she doesn’t have to interview Arthur alone. Their voices are giddy, Will’s Boston accent far thicker than usual, and it’s infectious seeing the joy in their faces and hearing the cheer of the crowd as Frank Sinatra’s voice plays over the stadium.

They really did just win.

One game down. Hopefully only three more to go.

“Swan,” Killian yells out, and she turns around on the field to see him walking toward her. He’s changed clothes since she last saw him, and she had no idea that he was still even near the field. She kind of figured that he would have gone up to the suite after practice.

The smile on his face is huge, his eyes crinkling, and she fully expects him to pick her up in his hug when he gets to her.

He does.

“We won,” she laughs into his embrace while he slowly spins her around the field.

“YesYes, we fucking did,” Killian chuckles right back as he puts her on the ground and moves his hands to cup her cheeks before fiercely kissing her. She guesses him kissing her during the last game kind of blew their policy on separating work and home in public. “I have no idea how I’m going to go to sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, well, you better. You have to pitch tomorrow. This isn’t over yet.”

“I know, I know, but I can feel it in my bones. We’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” she smiles as hope starts building up in her chest, “we do.”

Or at least she hopes so.

-/-

Tag list: @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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danwhobrowses · 4 years

Text

Valentines 2020: A Celebration of My Ships

So it’s valentine’s day again, and...yeah it’s not too great when you’re single is it? Considering that I’ve already gone through a tub of ice cream...

But, it doesn’t mean I’m a cynic, quite the opposite. Most of my fandoms involves a ship in some shape or form, hell I shipped before I even knew what shipping was, so I’m gonna talk about some of them...the ones that still make me happy and didn’t crash and burn in heartbreaking and frankly insulting fashion (looking at you Homestuck ¬_¬), gotta mention that these are not all the ships I ship, they’re just some of the ones I’m quite consistently high on

New Entries So with new fandoms come new ships...as is the usual formula anyway, though my pattern of watching things is usually with some delay, I only watched Rurouni Kenshin and started My Hero Academia in 2019, I still hold off on Attack on Titan and My Hero Season 4 because if I get in, I get IN. So these fandoms may not be new, but they are new to me Steven Universe is very new to me, I’ve been aware of how good it is and their concepts like Fusion. I like it, particularly Lapis Lazuli I really relate to her, but ship wise the two I really like are the obvious ones; Steven x Connie and Ruby x Sapphire (Garnet)

Garnet is badass and chill at the same time, but when she unfuses we see the stuff that makes me smile, the pda between Ruby and Sapphire is adorable, the little pecks and whatnot softens me up like no man’s business. Steven and Connie also have the mushy dynamic with both of them deeply into each other but still being strong individuals. The love for each other is equally platonic as it is romantic as they gel together, both being strong willed in different ways. The laughter probably gets me the most with both of them, the genuine laughter is so sweet and so realistic it’s hard not to love. My Hero Academia seems to be our next wave of shonen anime and for good reason, it does high notes so well and the cast of characters are vibrant and exciting. I haven’t hit Season 4 yet since I’m waiting till it’s all done to binge so I may be a little behind on some stuff (sadly it’s hard to avoid spoilers, I know about Infinity and Unbreakable). While I do like Deku x Uraraka, Tetsutetsu x Kendo and Eraserjoke but the two that I find most enjoyable are Todomomo and Kamijirou

(artist nonoko135 btw, bit tough to find a single image with both ships) Fairly popular ships in their own right, Todomomo doesn’t get many hints but they are sweet, naive rich kids with their own confidence issues, it also feels like they look out for each other especially after the final exam they did together. With Kamijirou though it’s probably one I favour if I had to choose between the two, simply because it’s a dynamic I really like; she busts on him so hard to mask her enjoyment of his company and he takes it because he feels at ease around her, the best part is when Kaminari goes 0 volts, he makes her laugh and that’s kinda big for Jirou given how self-conscious and stoic she can be. Rurouni Kenshin was always on my list, I have often heard about the Swordsman with a blade that cuts no-one. The anime is a bit up and down, after Shishio it’s just filler, but as documented in my Redemption Arc post it is at its core a great story of redemption for the main character, and the driving force for Kenshin’s redemption is his love for Kaoru

While Sano and Megumi have a unique dynamic hinted to be romantic at times, nothing can really beat Kenshin and Kaoru, she literally became Kenshin’s conscience, a representation of his hope to be a good man away from the shadow of Battousai the Manslayer. It may be your traditional romance of the two wanting to be by each other’s side in danger but it works so well given the kind of danger Kenshin is often in. Kaoru still strives to protect herself and aid Kenshin in a way that doesn’t make her continuously wonder about being a burden and Kenshin does everything in his power to keep Kaoru from pain, physical and emotional, even if it meant leaving to keep her safe. The main part of what makes this lovely is the fact that not only did Kaoru’s influence make Kenshin value his own life once more but after continual torment in his past she still saw him as the person he wanted to be, and welcomed in a new home, a new family he was able to live a life he never imagined he could deserve. The Regulars Our Regulars are the ships I still consistently ship, they’re not very old but they’re still pretty great and they still stand the test of time. Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. has quite a few ships over its 6 (coming up 7) season lifespan, being the longest surviving MCU tv series and one of the most consistently great shows MCU offered - especially Season 4, some of the best TV was on Season 4. But while Philinda is close, Mack and Yoyo or even Piper and Davis (don’t, I don’t care if you believe she’s a lesbian with the hots for May these are my ships) there is one one ship in Shield you can all rally behind, Fitzsimmons

Even when canon it is a consistent emotional rollercoaster. One of those ships where the writers know you love it and decide to put you through as much pain and emotional torment as humanely possible. But you endure it, because these two smart kids are worth it. They have sweet moments, badass moments, emotional moments and even though they get brought apart time and time again, they still find each other, the universe cannot stop them - and it better end happily for them come next season. Overwatch was a phenomenon when it came out a few years ago, Blizzard may have caused it to have some heavily bad rep but I still look forward to its sequel coming out. Given its large roster and most of the characters’ sexuality and relationship status up in the air, it leaves a lot of room for shipping. I do still love Anahardt, Mercy76 kinda falling due to 76 being gay but I like Gency too, my rarepairs include McPharah and Symmzo but my favourite is actually Meihem.

Now I know, Mei’s only voice lines towards Junkrat are cold, they have differing views in terms of omnics and...due process of the law. But there’s a lot they do have in common; both are quite intelligent engineers having made their weapons by hand, both endured trauma and both love their puns. But even the stuff that make them different can compliment one another. You don’t have to like it, but I do, I enjoy the dynamic of Jamison being so head over heels that he embarrasses himself to try and get Mei’s attention, while Mei softens to the fact that his very nature is warped by his lawless upbringing and that deep down he is an exciting and in his own way sweet guy. Back to anime, because what else do I do with my day, getting into One Piece was always going to be a long effort, keeping tabs on the Manga does make it easier and I’ve been able to catch up quickly. Ships are shaky territory with One Piece because Oda does make a point of not having romance happen a lot, not to existing living characters at least. But I still have the ones I like; Shanks x Makino, Sabo x Koala, Franky x Robin, Sanji x Pudding, Rebecca x Koby, the list goes on, but my favourite has to be Zoro x Tashigi

May not be up there with the ‘big ships’ of One Piece but I do enjoy them the most. Individually the two are characters I have deep interest in; Zoro is well Roronoa Fucking Zoro, santoryu swordsman extraordinaire, master of nothing happening and will cut you 8 ways to Sunday, but Tashigi is a character I like because she also tries, unlike Zoro she isn’t blessed with 2 years training with Mihawk and she’s at constant arms with this self doubt that as a Woman she won’t be as strong (and probably whoever of influence to her made her believe such a thing), people may get on her back for never winning a fight but she fights strong people without a second thought. But back to the pairing, they have an interesting dynamic; two very similar people on different sides of the law, I don’t think Tashigi continues to chase him simply because he refused to cut her in their fight and I don’t think it’s just her former resemblance to Kuina that gets Zoro so riled up about her, I mean Zoro is usually so chill to side characters to the point where he’s ready to throw down but with Tashigi, it’s different, they bicker but he also came to her aid. I still continue to hope that Tashigi shows in Wano for more Zoro interaction, and to prove herself to fans and to Zoro that she is strong and capable. One of my favourite anime of all time is Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, a combination of laughter, tears and deep philosophical character journeys in a 20th century world with the alchemy fantasy element drawn from actual legit alchemical sources. It just hits all the right notes for me, and ships hit right too; I love most of the ships from EdWin, AlMay and LingFan, but like Fitzsimmons there is one ship that stands above even the main characters, Royai.

Mustang and Hawkeye right from the bat have that connection that needs no dancing around, they care for each other but they work together. Like the rest of the ships they banter, argue but always have each other’s backs, to the point that they go into an insane rage at even the threat of the other being hurt. I don’t think anyone can not ship these two, that’s how strong their chemistry is, even if they can’t officially label it as a relationship because of their jobs it’s that line in the sand that everyone knows it, because it’s impossible to ignore. The Old Guard So we get to the oldest ships in my catalogue, the fact that they could stand the test of time is for a long time what shaped me as a shipper. I still ship these to this day so I ship them pretty hardcore Comics is probably the hardest place to ship something, because different writers will try different pairings at the drop of a hat. Even consistent pairings like Spiderman and Mary Jane, Batman and Catwoman, Beat Boy and Raven, Superman and Lois and more can end up being split in favour of Cindy Moon (I do love Silk), Wonder Woman and others. But I can’t ignore the fact that I’ve always loved Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon

I may’ve liked Teen Titans, but I was never on Team Starfire, it’s fine if you are but to me I have always been in with Dick and Babs. Not only do they have excellent banter but they gel well on and off of crime fighting, no matter how many times DC break them apart (like seriously, how many times do you have to try Bruce and Barbara until you realise that it creeps people out?) they always find each other again someway down the line, they are one of DC’s best couples and while they may never get a definitive ending because of the nature of comics, I still love that there’s a relationship of two strong individuals who can stand as equals and continue to keep their charm and wit after years of being together. When I was young, decades ago as it pains me to type, Digimon was the prime competitor against Pokémon’s tidal wave. Its anime had an awesome opening, more characters with some deeper themes and a quicker pacing. While many could quickly connect to Tai or Matt for their leaderlike attitude or Joe and Izzy for their intelligence or Mimi and Sora for their determination, I gravitated towards TK, a child who had room to grow and the greatest of potential, so when the Dark Masters came in we saw one of my oldest ships take form, Takari

TK and Kari’s pairing was popular that it managed to carry on into Adventure 02 and we got plenty of lovely moments in TRI (though they shorthanded both by having Ophanimon quickly fused and Seraphimon - one of the strongest Digimon - digivolve as backup in a Sora episode). 02′s epilogue is of course a sore spot we can hope Kizuna retcons because these two have been through thick and thin and their bond is clear. Even as they reach their late teens and TK has become master of hats and joined Matt’s band, they still hang out, banter and tease but they still are comfortable to hold each other’s hand and be vulnerable with one another too. Digimon may’ve been a contender, but Pokémon was still the clear winner, even to this day it is one of the most popular franchises in the world. The anime may be an up and down slope (current series seems a tad boring, 10 episodes before Ash caught a Pokémon, plus I don’t like that Ash won in Alola and now thinks he doesn’t have to try) but you can never take away the nostalgia, or the ships. I’ve shipped many in Pokémon in various media; Mallow x Lillie and Jessie x James in the anime, Ruby x Sapphire in the Manga, Looker x Anabel in the games (with Emma being their adoptive daughter dammit Looker you could’ve taken her with) among others and from Pokémon comes the oldest ship I’ve ever shipped, Pokéshipping

Before I even knew what Shipping was I shipped this, Misty may also be mostly the reason for my attraction to redheads but that’s neither here nor there. People may not like it, may prefer some of the softer spoken female (or male) companions Ash has had or feel they’ve grown out of it, but not me. I loved Misty’s feistiness and determination but also the fact that she could reign Ash in (sometimes) to make him think things through, as much as Misty was a companion to Ash she was a rival, a teacher and a supporter of his goal, but she also had her own goals which she fought for as well. They may bicker but they have also had tender moments as well and even with Misty’s return in the excellent Sun and Moon episodes they had their chemistry is palpable. To me, Ash and Misty were kindred spirits and the feeling has never changed since. So with another year of Valentine’s Day going the way it usually does, I’d like a moment to thank these ships, and all my other ships I didn’t have the space to mention, for being something that brings out happiness and a soft joy deep within my being, and for all the fanartists and fanfic writers that bring that love to life Happy Valentine’s Day

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thecreelhouse · 4 years

Text

Kill the Lights // Chapter 10

Steve Harrington x Original Female Character

Read chapter 9 here!

Summary: After Violet- formally 003, a telekinetic, electrokenetic, and clairvoyant 19 year old- loses her first family, her first love, nothing is the same. She finds herself taken in by Hopper and El, struggling to find her footing and meaning to keep fighting. The Party, especially Steve Harrington, try to show her where her strengths have been hiding all along, and that no one has to fight their battles alone. Sometimes you don’t need to be rescued, but someone’s love and support while you rescue yourself sure doesn’t hurt.

Word count: 2,186

Content warnings: PTSD, anxiety, dissociation, angst, cursing

Author’s note: we’re finally merging into season 3!! I know a lot of people prefer when fics are word for word with the original work when staying with a storyline, but personally I don’t care for it much, it’s too repetitive over time. So it’s not fully canon, but this fic never fully was to begin with. Hope that’s alright! Title comes from ‘find my way home’ by misterwives. For some reason, tumblr still won’t show my posts in the tags I use, so if you like this (or any of the chapters) please don’t be afraid to reblog!! It’s always greatly appreciated <3 Alrighty, enough rambling. Hope you enjoy this one y’all!!

Chapter 10: Bad Dreams to Reality

Just a short, sleepless 24 hours later, Violet was thrown into something that gave her the same dreadful ache her nightmare gave her.

“So you mean to tell me out of all your abilities, you never learned another language?” Dustin sassed at Violet, and her jaw fell open in disbelief.

“Oh yes, so sorry I never asked my abusers to teach me something that would be useful after I escaped!” Violet snapped back, and Dustin shrunk in his chair. Steve grimaced as he looked away from the two, pretending to find more fascination in the tape recorder on the table.

The three of them were huddled around the small table in the back room; Dustin explained how he stumbled upon a code being sent over the airwaves while using Cerebro. It definitely didn’t sound like it belonged in Hawkins, that was for sure. He was convinced it was a top secret code in Russian, and currently was upset that Violet had limitations to her abilities.

“Even if we do find out what it says, does it even matter? Why should we care?” Violet whined, crossing her arms as she fell into a chair between the two boys.

“We should care because we could be American heroes, Vi! Don’t you want that?” Dustin exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Ask me how much I genuinely care, Dustin. Go ahead-“

“Vi, be nice-“

“Steve, I am exhausted, there’s no room for nice today.” Violet groaned, letting her head roll back.

“Jesus, you guys are so loud back here.” Robin chimed in as she strolled through the door. “Why don’t you just announce to the rest of the parlor what your heroic plans are?”

“Thank you, Robin.” Violet said, eyes closed as she massaged her temples. “You think their voices are loud, you should hear their th-“

“Violet!” Steve hissed, causing Violet’s sentence to stop dead in its tracks. She was so exhausted, she almost let one of her own secrets slip.

Robin raised a brow at them, arms crossed. “Alright, what’s really going on here?”

“I intercepted a Russian transmission the other night-“

“Dustin!”

“Steve it’s fine, settle down-“

“A Russian transmission? Go on,” Robin said as she pulled a folding chair over from the wall. As she sat on it, she motioned her hands in a “c’mon” motion to Dustin.

“Okay, so we think it sounds Russian, but none of us know Russian, so that’s as far as we got.” He explained, and Robin’s eyes flicked down towards the tape recorder.

Robin went on to tell them how her ears were “little geniuses” after taking several language classes and being in band, and how she was confident she could figure it out.

So, they got to work, replaying the tape over and over, pausing and rewinding to phonetically write out what they heard, looking up the closest matches in a Russian-to-English dictionary Dustin brought with him. While the room was abuzz with excitement of decoding hidden secrets, Violet realized she overstayed her welcome, break long over by now, and headed back to Sam Goody.

The fluorescent lights hummed above her as she shuffled back down the employee hallway alone. Just as her hand reached the knob to the record store’s door, the hair on her arms stood up straight. A feeling of dread, that feeling she was getting for awhile now, washed over her. Like something was out of place, something just wasn’t right, but she still couldn’t figure out what exactly it was.

The lights above her flickered, and a mechanical, crashing noise echoed down the hall. It sent chills down her spine.

“You’re just easily spooked. It’s just that silly dream that has you worked up, Vi.” She tried reassuring herself.

“Hello?” Violet called out. The noises stopped, only to transition to heavy footsteps, and it sent her senses ablaze. Her hands fumbled with the store key, unlocking the door and slamming it shut behind her. She didn’t realize how much she was shaking until she slid down the door, trying to catch her breath.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, kid.”

Violet’s head snapped up to see her boss, Connie, standing above her and staring with concern. Violet let a sigh of relief out seeing a familiar face. Connie was a middle aged woman, a little off the wall and eccentric in her style with her bright orange hair and bold patterned clothing, but her mom instincts came naturally while supervising over the younger employees that ran her store. Violet enjoyed working with her.

“I’m alright- must’ve just been some leaky pipes in the hall.” Violet shrugged off her fears, more for herself or Connie, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem convincing to either woman, but Connie nodded, holding her hand out to Violet to help her back up.

“You’re lucky I like ya’, kid, I almost sent a search squad after you!” Connie laughed, and Violet forced herself to laugh through her shot nerves.

“Sorry, won’t go over my break again, I swear!” Violet pushed out more giggles. At least her boss was a pretty relaxed person overall, and it was still somewhat slow in the store.

“Meet me out on the floor when you’re ready. We got some new shipments today, nothin’ exciting though, just some stereo cords, so don’t get all jazzed up. Bring the boxes out with you, alright?” Connie said, waving her hand back and forth as she walked back out of the stock room.

“Jazzed up. Who even says that?” Violet laughed to herself, genuinely this time, shaking her head.

Her eyes wandered the room for the new shipment boxes, usually left right by the back door. As she got closer to the boxes, the logo, while never seen before by her, sent a shock through her body. A feeling of deja vu shook her bones as her fingers ran over the design.

Flashes of emotions ran through her as visions zoomed through her mind. The feeling of falling, falling, falling, again, this time she saw faces, faces she knew, faces she didn’t know-

“Vi? Can you bring out that crate of records, too?” Connie yelled back to Violet. “It’s just some restock.”

Violet shook her head, trying to shake what she just saw from her mind, before yelling back, “Sure thing, Con!”

She couldn’t shake the feeling, though. It was fused to her with a death grip. Something definitely wasn’t right, and she didn’t have a single idea what it had to do with the logo on the box, but it terrified her.

The design, a simple “Lynx Transportation” logo with a silver silhouette of a large cat, made absolutely no sense in startling her this much, but she sensed it couldn’t be good regardless. Something about it got under her skin, enough where she tried to replay the visions in her mind again. Just like her dream the night before, they slipped away quickly before she could fully grasp what she saw. Just blue. Lots of blue. Blue, blinding lights. She saw so many faces in that brief vision, she couldn’t remember them all.

As she picked up the box to bring it out, the logo stared right back at her, almost taunting and mocking her for what she just felt.

Violet had no idea what the hell was going on, what she was sensing, what was about to happen, but her questions going unanswered were beginning to drive her insane.

———

Steve began pulling the gate over the entrance to Scoops Ahoy closed, when an unseen force began pushing it back up. Panicked, Steve gripped onto the handle, and started rising with the metal gate.

“Babe, would you let go of that?” Violet giggled at her boyfriend, nearly dangling from the top of the doorway. Steve let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Violet, realizing who forced the gate back open. Panic set back in quickly, though.

“Okay, one, put me down, please,” Steve lowered his voice into a whisper, hissing at Violet. “And two- what the hell do you think you’re doing right now?!”

Violet rolled her eyes and flicked her hand casually in a downward motion, causing the gate to lower, and gently set Steve back on his feet. She ducked under the gate before he fully closed it.

“I’m serious, Vi, you have to be careful!” Steve scolded her, almost as if she was a careless child, and she rolled her eyes again as a child in trouble would. “Someone could have seen that!”

“And nobody did. Mall’s closed, mostly everyone went home already, it’s fine. We’ve got worse to worry about.” Violet tried pushing past his concern. “It happened again.”

“What? What happened?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder, still on high alert. Robin and Dustin must’ve still been in the back, leaving the couple alone in the parlor.

“The dream, but I wasn’t dreaming. I was awake. I was awake and I saw it, Steve.” Violet rushed out in a whisper. Even talking about it felt wrong. It made it, whatever it was, feel real, and Violet didn’t want any part of it.

“How? If you were awake-“

“I don’t know, it’s like flashes of these images, flashes of these emotions, everything rolled into one. It was too fast again. I couldn’t remember much.”

“But you did remember some things?” He implored, still concerned.

“Faces. I saw faces I knew, ones I didn’t. You know, it’s apparently a fact that every face you see in your dreams is a face you’ve seen in real life before? How the hell did I see faces I couldn’t recognize?” Violet rambled out, collapsing into one of the booths. Steve followed, eyes still locked on hers, listening intently.

“Okay, but who did you recognize?” Steve asked cautiously, and the question flicked a switch in Violet’s mind.

“You. You, Robin, Dustin-“ Violet stuttered out, clutching her head in her hands. Trying to remember felt draining, and she could feel a dull ache approaching in her skull. Steve must have noticed, because he immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t put yourself through hell to remember. It’s gonna be okay-“

“You don’t know that. None of us do.” Violet snapped, her head jolted back up. “What if something is coming, and I can stop it? I have to try-“

“You don’t even know what this is, Vi. Please, I need you to just rest for a little, okay?” Steve pleaded with her, voice laced with concern again. “You can stay over again if you want, I won’t leave your side, and after some sleep we can try to figure this out in the morning. Alright?”

Violet reluctantly nodded, but he was right. She had been up for well over a full 24 hours by now, and it couldn’t have been helping whatever she was dealing with now.

A short while later, Violet followed Steve, Robin and Dustin out of the shop, and into the main hallway of the mall. Neon lights above stores buzzed gently. The mall had an eerie feel to it past closing. Violet figured that was just because they were the only ones in the building currently.

Until they weren’t.

Violet’s pace slowed to a stop behind the group as they walked towards the exit when she felt it. Sensed it. The four of them weren’t alone in the building anymore. Sounds around her slowed down and her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

Violet couldn’t hear thoughts from anyone else, but she could sense the intentions in the air, and they were far from kind.

“I’m just tired, it’s just sleep deprivation playing tricks on me, it’s fine. We’re fine. I’m fine.” Violet tried talking herself down, but her intuition wouldn’t let up, wouldn’t quiet down.

“Vi? What’s wrong, babe?”

Violet focused back in on the present, eyes connecting back to reality to see Steve walking back to her. A child’s ride, a horse, was moving and playing a tune behind him, Robin and Dustin standing near it too. She didn’t even see them walk over or Steve put money in, but the notes of the music rang through her head like alarms. She knew this music. She heard it in the tape recording Dustin had, but she knew it wasn’t from that. She heard it before, in her dream. Background static to the rest of the chaos, but clear enough that she recognized it.

“You alright?” He asked, hand tangling into her’s. His thumb gently rubbed her hand, trying to bring her back to her surroundings.

“Y-yeah, just tired.” Violet lied, softly smiling. She didn’t want to worry him any further. “Let’s just head home.”

Steve wasn’t convinced, but squeezed her hand as reassurance without pushing any further, and began to lead her over to their friends to exit the mall. As they walked by the ride, still playing it’s haunting tune, Violet knew it was only a matter of time before things began to unravel. It wouldn’t be long before her fears manifested into reality.

#kill the lights #steve harrington x ofc #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x oc #stranger things x you #stranger things x ofc #stranger things fanfiction

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okietrish · 5 years

Text

Darling. Chapter 1.

This is chapter one of a fic I’ve been messing around with lately. I’m obsessed with it already and have many MANY ideas and theories in mind for how this could go. I’m proud of this. Please enjoy and LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.

I love you all, thank you for you kindness and support.

Please enjoy.

____________________________________________________________________

Your morning started out with the usual blasting alarm sending you quickly into the normal routine. You know the drill, it begins with an exasperated groan, then you get up and get dressed, makeup, hair, the usual “simplistic but kinda trying” look. After you’re finished, undoubtedly rushing after procrastinating on the internet for far too long, you get picked up and head to your interview of the day to talk about your new single and what you have in store. The fact that this is normal now, mind boggling, but normal... Extremely new, but this is what your life has become. Writing music, playing music, talking about music, and you get paid to do it! The thought alone brings butterflies into your stomach. This is all you’ve wanted for so long.

The drive to the radio studio was simple, an iced coffee was placed in your hands to perk you up; the sheer excitement coursing through your veins was enough for you to get going, but turning down a coffee is sacrilegious, so you accepted the caffeine kick with a smile. You were giddy, to put simply, there’s no other way to describe it.

Being guided through places like this, a very professional environment in the center of the music world, was always fascinating. The walls were lined with pictures of rock legend after rock legend, you couldn’t help but gawk as you walked by. The people you idolized staring down at you judging as to why you’re walking the same walls as they once did, intimidating. They most likely have sat where you are about to sit. Your ass will be where many rock god’s asses have sat before. Giggling aloud at the thought caused a few people in front of you to turn around with a questioning look. You shrugged it off and continued to appreciate the intimidating place around you, trying to forget how crazy you seemed for giggling at the walls...

The room you were placed in was set up with two large desks pressed against each other creating a giant table in the middle of the room. Chairs were littered among the many sides, microphones stretched out like tree limbs, one landing right in front of the seat you were instructed to sit in. The large, two monitor computer faced away from you. The walls were lined with sound buffering fixtures and small trinkets and decorations. You only felt at home in this room. An apparent ease washed over the room as James, the man who was interviewing you, walked in and greeted you and the room of people.

James, a kind man much older than yourself, most likely in his mid 60’s, was a rock fanatic who was well listened to across the country. A man well respected all around; his opinion was impressionable. Without any hesitation James eased right into the interview by welcoming the listeners and introducing you with passion and a shocking amount of energy for 8am.

“Good morning Los Angeles! You’re listening to 98.5; a rock station for old ears.Today we have an up and coming artist, one of my personal favorites in the scene right now. She has a single out now called “Exposition of a Lonely Man,” which we will listen to in a little bit. It’s a psychedelic vibe, sounds as if Janis Joplin and Stevie Nicks had a love child and it produced a song. This is the wonderful and very talented Y/N Y/L/N. Good morning Y/N, how are you feeling today?”

“Morning James! I’m feeling wonderful, you’re throwing me some very kind compliments plus I’ve got a coffee, so I can’t complain much.” You couldn’t help but smile at the realization of what’s going on. As you leaned into the microphone more you discovered the faint smell of lavender filling the room, it was naturally calming.

“Coffee is the key to my heart! Now Y/N you’re fairly new in the public eye, so let’s get some background info. You have a sound to your voice that is, well, seemingly archaic these days, and yet you’re only 20 years old, what influenced that?” James looked at you kindly, evident in how much he loved his job and took pride in his skills. His smile brought a sincerity to the conversation, like you were talking to an old friend, confiding in a loved one.

“Being completely honest, and I’m slightly ashamed to say it, I grew up listening to bubble gum, pop 40’s junk...” James’ jaw physically dropped in shock.

“What?! How does that make any sense?” He laughed as he spoke. Conversation was seemingly effortless for him. You noticed he picked a good career.

“I know, I know. And I loved it too...” You laughed along. “I can pinpoint the exact time where my love for ‘good’ music blossomed. I was 12, in the car with my dad when he finally got fed up with my pop B.S. He demanded to have the aux cord. I complained, but quickly shut up when he played this long, chaotic song that I was having a hard time keeping up with. I remember thinking ‘how does he know all of these words?! This is insane!’ That song ended up Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen!” You laughed at the memory, how seemingly ridiculous it sounds to not know anything about rock music, specifically the arguably most well known song in history. You took a deep breath before watching James intently as he laughed.

“That’s amazing! So did you both just start listening to old music? How did it develop after that?” James was obviously intrigued by the odd beginnings of your life. You continued with a nostalgic smile.

“It became our thing, ya know? Every time we got in the car he would play different artists ranging from Queen, The Beatles, Sinatra, The Temptations, he even had a crush on miss Etta James! We would play this game, he would play a song and I had to guess who was singing, then we would switch and he would have to guess. My dad was a lovely man who had a passion for music and the history of rock and roll. He didn’t play any instruments, but he sang at the top of his lungs with passion and love. My musical ear began because of him. I owe a lot to him.”

The smile you showed was genuine, though the memories of your dad still ripped a whole in your heart. No matter how much time has past, losing him was the worst thing to have ever happened to you; two years felt like it lasted a lifetime, but only five minutes at the same time. He was the most important person in your life, your confidant. Life without him was normal now, human beings are creatures of inept adaptation skills, so you got use to it. It’s bizarre to think about, but it’s how life works.

You continued talking to James about your double EP that was going to be released in a week’s time. You spoke with passion and electricity while describing your life’s work and the meaning behind it all. The fire within you was enchanting. Music was the reason you lived. It is everything you do, everything you think, you’re even convinced your breathing pattern has a good rhythm to it.

Interviews were some of your favorite part of the whole music industry ordeal. Getting to discuss your dictations, other artists you adore, and being able to just sit for a few minutes and sit in the success you’ve made for yourself was always a breath of relief.

Signing off of the interview, you said goodbye to the listeners and to Jame’s as well, quickly followed by a genuine goodbye off the record.

“Y/N thank you so much for coming in, you’re a kind soul. You’re not just honest in your music, you were so open with everything. You’ll make it far kid, no doubt.” James gave you a quick hug. He reminded you of Santa Claus a bit, his rosy cheeks were quite the contrast to his stark white hair and stubble. What an adorable old rock enthusiast.

“Thank you, that means so much. And thank you for having me, It was so much fun!” You spoke with him for a few more moments before getting called away by your manager Chelsea. With a final goodbye you found yourself walking quickly through the maze of hallways once again. The rock legends staring at you from the walls seemed to have a softer look to them now, perhaps they welcomed you into their exclusive club of wretched rock history shenanigans after your interview. You smiled at the thought of being a rock star, but just singing was enough for you. The idea of actually having music out there in the world, having an effect on other people’s lives, it made you nauseous in the most exhilarating way.

Pulling you out of your thoughts, a fresh iced coffee was placed in your hands as Chelsea began her daily speech.

“Okay Y/N we have one more interview across town in about 2 hours and then you’re done for the day. I know you’re friend Matt is throwing a party tonight, just please be careful and mind what you post.”

You stared at her as you sat down into the backseat of a black Ford Explorer, shocked by the lack of expectations coming from the trusting New Yorker sliding in next you you.

“Mind what I post? What do you think I’m going to do Chels? Get on his kitchen counter and flash the room?” You snorted a laugh at the idea. Quickly cut off by Chelsea snapped her head in your direction giving you a wide eyed look?

“Really? Like that is so unlike you?” She laughed as she continued to glare at you. Your cheeks perked up as you smile seemed to take up your entire face.

“You’re right, sounds like something I would do...” The cackling from the backseat was uncontrollable now. Chelsea was 27, a little older than you, but much more like a sister than anything else. She was kind, knowledgeable, but most importantly didn’t put up with your bullshit. It was a lovely friendship.

Chelsea took a deep breath before beginning again as the car began to drive through the streets of L.A. “Also, I have a phone meeting tonight with potential tour options for you.” She smiled proudly at your shocked look. “And before you even ask, I’m keeping it to myself for now. It’s a late meeting due to time zones, but I’ll call you as soon as I can if I hear anything worth sharing.” You stuck your pinky out for her to grab, an undeniable childish way to stick to your word, but it was a habit you couldn’t break.

Chelsea grabbed your pinky smiling at your confusing nature. An old essence of life radiated from you; an old soul was the basic way to describe your mantra, but it was far more complex than that. You carried yourself with strife that was disassociated with people your age, but at the same time you did things like make pinky promises in the backseat of a car while sitting with your legs crossed and having the childish smile plastered on your face. The balance between innocence and spirituality was enticing.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matt’s party was in full swing. All of your friends were here, the four of them sticking to one corner in the massive house, your small circle stagnant is the chaos. Nonetheless, the house was full. Alcohol was flying into shot glasses, people forgetting their lives for a few hours, apparently forgetting their limitations as well.

You were feeling good, properly drunk, but still very much in control. Music was blasting through the speakers, though muted by all the noise coming from the mass crowd of young adults. A few hours had passed since you first arrived. Matt was sprinting around like a mad man attempting to keep some sort of organization in this madhouse. He was a loud guy who loved everyone, a perfect host for a memorable party, or a black out party depending on what road you chose for the night!

You were sitting on your Jack and Dr. Pepper combo while talking with your friend Em when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You quickly glanced down at the name, trying not to be rude to Em while she told you all about the girl she is talking to and apparently in love with. When Chelsea’s name showed up you had to excuse yourself.

“Em I’m so sorry! This is my manager and I have to take it. Excuse me.” Em smiled at you and gestured that it was fine. You began to quickly move through the crowd, bumping into what seemed like every single person; maybe you were drunker than you thought. After moments of being lost in the forest of tall college boys you finally made it outside. It was quiet in the backyard, a few people gathered around a fire, but nothing too distracting, so you accepted the call.

“Chelsea! What’s up bitch!” You screamed into the phone while pulling some surfer/LA local accent. A giggle suppressed from the other end of the call.

“Jesus Christ Y/N. Sounds like your having a good time!” There wasn’t any judgement in her voice, only amusement.

“Of course darling, I know how to party. Anyways, what’s up? Why are you calling at...” you pulled the phone away from your ear to check the time, “...1:00 AM? Woah! How is it one already?! That’s crazy.” You trailed off immediately forgetting what you were even going on about. Chelsea caught on to your drifting mind.

“Okay. Y/N. I have good news. You know the band Greta Van Fleet?”

You scoffed at her question, suddenly becoming extremely sassy, “Do I know about Greta Van Fleet... psshhhhh.” You continued to babble, your New York accent coming out in your quick words. “Girl I talk to you about them all the time! We stan Greta in this house bitch. Iconic legends with that good hair... Becky with the good hair... WATERMELON!”

“Fucking hell Y/N stop babbling!” She snapped at you, obviously suppressing her laughs at this, or at least what was suppose to be, business call.

“My bad. Okay, but Chels why are you asking me about Greta right now? Did you call to fangirl?” Genuine confusion flooded your mind as you began walking along the side of Matt’s pool. It was nice out, a cool brisk breeze was cooling down your Alcohol induced heat.

“Y/N I just got off the phone with their management...” she drifted off towards the end, waiting for you to cue in.

“Okay, how was that?” You asked, more confused than before. You slurped the end of your drink, obnoxiously shifting the ice around at the bottom in attempts to get every last drop.

“Fucks sake. You’re going on tour Y/N. Greta wants you to open for them for 2 months. If it works out well, then they will sign you for longer.” She was yelling into the phone at this point.

A numb feeling rushed through your body quicker than anything you’ve ever experienced. The red cup previously holding your liquid crutch was discarded to the ground, forgotten about completely. You began pacing even quicker, grabbing your hair in attempts to ground out self in some way.

“Jesus Christ.... oh fuck. ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” You were shouting now too, distracting the people around the fire from the joint they were passing around.

“Yes. Completely serious. You’re going on tour with Greta Van Fleet!” She screeched into the phone, obviously excited about the whole ordeal as well.

“Chelsea they are a real rock band! They have the stage lights and the tight jeans and the screaming fans and mysterious ways about them! How am I suppose... how did I... WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!” You were shifting your feet back and forth, some sort of happy dance naturally possessing your limbs.

“Y/N I love you, alright? I’m so beyond proud of you. I’ll talk to you more about this tomorrow Okay? I just wanted to tell you tonight. Have a safe night, call me when you wake up?” You smiled even wider at her words.

“Alright. Okay. Ummm thank you? Thank you for this. This is amazing. Absolutely sick. I’ll call you in the morning! Jesus Christ... Okay. I love you, bye!”

“Bye!”

To say you were a bumbling mess was an understatement. The news you waited for arrived. A tour, you were going on fucking tour! A tour with a band you idolized and admired. Your shock faded a bit as pride took over. Music was the one thing in life that you made for yourself, an industry you ventured into alone after your dad’s death. You did this.

You shoved your phone back into your back pocket, picked up your discarded solo cup, and sprinted into the house. Slamming the sliding glass door drawing attention to yourself by both your friends and the strangers scattered around the room. There was a quick pause in conversation as all eyes turned to you.

You took a deep breath before making eye contact with Matt from across the room, a look of concern present on his face. You broke out into a giant grin before shouting at the top of your lungs.

“I’M GOING ON TOUR BITCHES!!!” Matt looked at you in shock and began sprinting towards you. Your other friends escaped from the corner of the room and ran as well. Matt grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and pulling you into a death grip of a hug. Everyone cheers surrounded you. Friends, strangers, some folks who just walked into the party and had no idea what the hell was going on, they all cheered and poured some drinks. Any excuse to drink right? Except this was the start of something insane.

You looked around at everyone who were still buzzing with energy. The bottle of Jack Daniels was passed to you. Taking a giant swig from the bottle, you lifted it into the air and screamed out in a mix of excitement, terror, nervousness, but mostly happiness. You’re life was changing, you felt the shift in the air during the rest of the night. This is it. The rest of your life is beginning.

__________________________________________

Tag list (to be added just shoot me a message!):

@dontumisfire

@myownparadise96

___

Thank you for reading! I appreciate and love all of you!

-Trish

#Greta Van Fleet #Greta Van Fleet Fic #Jake Kiszka #Josh Kiszka #Sam Kiszka #Danny Wagner #gvf #original piece #im so excited over this you guys have no idea.

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aivaehdaevis · 4 years

Text

The More Things Change: Ch 4

The More Things Change

by Aivaeh

Disclaimer: Familiar characters, plot elements, and settings belong to L.J. Smith, Julie Plec, and the CW. The author of this work of fanfiction has made no money from it. Summary: I have no idea how it happened, but one morning I woke up in the world of The Vampire Diaries. Which, aside from the insanity of waking up inside a television show made real, might not be so bad—if I weren't stuck in the body of vampire magnet and doppelgänger herself, Elena Gilbert. Pairing(s): OFC x Damon, OFC x Stefan, OFC x Elijah, OFC x Klaus Rating: M Warning(s): Graphic descriptions of violence on par with the show itself. References to sex and drug use. Mind control and all the issues of consent that go along with it. Character death. Master List External Links: AO3 | FF.Net | Wattpad

Chapter Four

Forehead resting against my knees, arms hugging my legs, I rocked back and forth even after the tears had stopped. Sinuses stuffed, I focused on the aftermath of my sob fest rather than the life I had no idea how to get back to. Thoughts of home and the grim conclusion that I had no idea how to leave Monster Falls did nothing but bring me to tears.

I couldn't afford that. I had to survive until I could find a way out.

The forest had left its mark on me. Apart from my mysterious scratches and bruises, there was dirt and sweat clinging to my skin. Given what had happened after skipping the cemetery, there was no way I wasn't going to show up at the Grill. Which meant another shower.

It was slower going than the first that morning. The hot water was soothing and helped clear my clogged sinuses. I ended up leaning halfway out of the spray to spare the bite marks. Not that they were huge, I was surprised by how small they appeared in the mirror compared to how much blood he'd gotten from me, but both punctures were fresh and still sore.

Part of me hoped Damon switched to blood bags soon, but the idea of being fed from again aroused feelings that frightened me. Maybe it was Elena. I hadn't ever been that turned on by the thought of being bit before. Now I had to avoid the memory, because this wasn't my body and I really wasn't in a head space for dealing with new and potentially dangerous kinks.

I rooted through Elena's closet while I dried. I found t-shirts and jeans, but most of her clothes were much nicer. Since the Grill was a casual get together, I picked out a sky-blue sweater that matched a lightweight patterned scarf and dark pair of jeans. From her twenty pair of shoes, I grabbed a pair of sneakers, because this was Mystic Falls. I wanted to be ready to run.

Not that it'd help, not with teleporting vampires, but it made me feel minutely better to know I was ready to sprint if I had to.

I was finishing up with the scarf when I heard the rumble of a garage door. The sun was low enough that golden light poured in through all the windows. Downstairs the side door in the kitchen opened.

Jenna had several take-out bags spread across the counter by the time I arrived. "Hey, Elena," she greeted, grabbing a stack of plates from the cabinet.

"Jeremy isn't here." I hadn't heard him come in, anyway.

Jenna frowned but replaced the bottom dish.

"And I'm going to the Grill."

Another plate joined it. "Guess it's just me and Basilico's then."

"Sorry."

Placing the remaining plate on the counter, Jenna flipped the kitchen lights on before opening the sacks. "No problem. Means more leftovers. Which means less of my cooking." The box she pulled out smelled divine. Savory tomato sauce, buttery cheese and herbs. "I think we can all agree that's cause for celebration."

Since I had no idea what Jenna's cooking tasted like, I answered with a noncommittal hum.

The lid lifted to reveal a pan of lasagna that looked amazing and made me regret waiting to get to the Grill. "When's Bonnie picking you up?"

Crap. In the show Elena had gone with Stefan. But he had no reason to come over. Had she driven? Had he? "Actually, I thought I'd drive."

Jenna's brows rose so high they'd practically summited her hairline. "Saywhatnow?"

"Unless that's not okay."

"Nonono. I mean, yes, of course it's okay! Elena!" Smiling, she grabbed my hand. I stiffened, but she didn't notice. "This is great!" She squeezed. "I'm so proud of you!"

I stared, flummoxed, but managed to return the squeeze before letting go. "Oh, um. Thanks Jenna."

She beamed as she unpacked the rest of her dinner. I distracted her by asking how her day had gone. She launched into an excited recitation about her meeting and her plans for her dissertation. Given all the practice I'd had today, I'd gotten excellent at mhmm-ing and adding the occasional nod or sympathetic noise where required.

Jenna was halfway through her meal, getting into something to do with childhood regression, when a doorbell chimed.

Pausing mid-sentence, Jenna pointed a fork with a bit of cheese hanging off it towards the archway. "Mind getting that?"

"Nope."

The sun had set while Jenna and I had talked. Except for a weak stripe of light leaking from the kitchen, the hallway between the dining room and front door was a long stretch of darkness. I found and pushed the light switch, but nothing happened. Since all I had to do was walk straight to avoid the walls, I crossed to the entryway anyway. Fishing for the handle, I pulled the door open as soon as I found it.

The porch was a little better lit from the streetlight. I could tell it was a man. One dressed in dark colors. "Hold on a sec." I felt around the wall for a switch to the either the hall, entryway, or the porch. One of them had to work.

Sure enough my fingers soon traced a series of flat switches. I went down the line, pressing each of them in turn. Half the bulbs in the house must've needed changing because the only one that would turn on was the porch light.

"There—oh!"

Stefan Salvatore blinked against the sudden burst of brightness. Once his eyes readjusted, he smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," I replied, when what I really wanted to ask him what he was doing there. I hadn't gone to the cemetery. Elena's diary was upstairs on her desk.

As if he could read my mind—could he?—he said, "We haven't met. I'm Stefan. Stefan—"

"Salvatore." I opened the door a tad wider. "We have history together."

His eyes lightened. "And English. Sorry to show up out of nowhere. I thought you might like this," his hand rose, lifting a familiar leather bag in its grip, "back."

"My bag." What. The. Hell. He handed it over to me. "I thought I forgot it at school."

There must've been enough doubt in my tone that he was able to pick up on it. "I found it on the ground not too far from here."

A chill that had nothing to do with the evening air fell over me. My suspicions that Damon had done something to my memory were confirmed. Not that I'd had much cause to doubt, but here was proof. I struggled to keep the dismay off my face and stay calm. "Weird." I smiled up at Stefan, whose stare was intense. Was he gauging my reaction? The idea made me even more anxious. I squeezed the strap, and the responding creak of leather reassured me that at least something today had turned out alright. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He tucked his hands into his pockets. "You might want to check inside. Make sure everything's there. Some books and folders fell out. I think I got them all, but…" Stefan trailed off with a shrug.

"Oh." I opened my mouth, an invitation to come inside on the tip of my tongue, but I remembered Stefan was a vampire. I should never, ever let him in. "Just a second."

"Okay." If he was disappointed by the lack of invite, he hid it well. He just leaned a shoulder up against the door frame.

I carried the bag to the stairs. Light from the open door spilled across the floor and crept up part of the steps. I set the bag down at the bottom. I hadn't taken a complete inventory of everything that had been inside it earlier. Even so, all the folders and books from today were there, along with a few notebooks I hadn't had a chance to use. "I think everything's there."

"Good."

My thumb ran along the leather strap before I returned to the threshold. "Can I ask where, exactly, you found it?"

Stefan straightened. "You know the woods west of here?" My stomach churned, but I nodded. "About a ten-minute hike from King street."

"Oh." I stared down at my free hand where a few scratches stood out on my palm. "Well," I cleared my throat as I lifted my head again, "I'm glad you found it."

"So am I." Stefan's superhero chin jutted at the bag. "I'd be worried about losing that many textbooks."

"I hadn't even thought about that," I confessed. Elena's classes had been the last thing on my mind.

"And now you won't have to."

Relief widened my answering smile. "Yeah. Thank you. Really."

He shook his head. "I was in the area. Least I could do."

We watched one another. The silence stretched.

Stefan was the one to break it. "Well. I should," he stuck a thumb out behind him.

"Okay. Right." I lifted my hand in farewell. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

We shared tentative smiles, and then I moved to shut the door. Stefan turned, walking back across the porch towards the stairs. He'd almost reached first step when I remembered—The Grill! He was supposed to go with Elena!

After everything that happened when I skipped the cemetery, I was leery of messing up anything else I'd seen on the show. "Stefan?"

The porch creaked underfoot as he turned about. "Yeah?"

I opened the door all the way. "My friends are having a little get together at the Grill tonight. Would you like to go?"

His brows arched in surprise. "I—yes. Absolutely."

Relief brightened my smile to something genuine. "Great. I'm just going to get my purse and jacket. I'll be right out."

"Alright." His answering grin was smaller, but sincere. "I'll be here."

"Good."

I slid the door shut and hurried up the stairs to Elena's room. I dropped the bag back by the desk where I'd found it that morning and grabbed the purse sitting at the top. Snatching her jacket from the bed, I headed back downstairs.

"Jenna?" I called, leaning over the railing.

"Yea—why's it dark in here?" The hall light flicked on. Jenna looked up. "What's up?"

"Where're the keys?"

"Aren't they still on key holder by the side door?"

I pressed my lips together, waving a hand. "Right. 'Course." I 'hah'ed. "Guess I'm spacey today."

"I'll grab them."

I reached the bottom step as she disappeared back into the dining room. "Key holder. Duh." I rifled through the purse's contents as I crossed the hall. Wallet. Makeup. Pens. Small notepad. Kleenex. Lip balm.

Hold on. Where'd I put her phone?

Her school bag. "Dammit," I muttered. The phone hadn't been inside when I'd checked. It must have fallen out and was now wherever Stefan had found the bag.

"Here you go." I looked up in time to hold out my hand as Jenna passed along the keys. "You'll be careful?"

"Course."

She smiled. Beamed really. "Okay. Have fun!"

"I'm sure I will." Provided I didn't screw up and let everyone know I was a body snatcher.

I rounded back towards the front door when Jenna called out. "Elena? Where are you going? SUV's in the garage."

I paused. "Yeah. I left a friend waiting for me on the porch. I was going to let him know I'd be pulling around."

Jenna's brows furrowed. "Why didn't you invite him in?"

"He's… shy."

Jenna's brows furrowed further. They were almost one.

I gave a firm nod and a grin. "So. I'll be… right back." I pointed back towards the dining room. "To go to the garage."

"O-kay."

I cringed as I turned around. I was careful to smooth my expression before opening the front door.

Stefan was leaning against a post, arms crossed. He was also sporting furrowed brows, but they relaxed as soon as he saw me.

"Hey. I'm just going to pull the SUV out." I stretched out to search the street in front of the house and then the driveway. "Where's your car?"

"I walked."

"Oh." I bit my bottom lip before offering, "You can ride with me." Elena must have driven them both in the episode. I'd be fine.

Stefan wasn't Damon.

He uncrossed his arms and straightened up. "Alright."

"Just," I held up a finger, "one more minute."

Stefan nodded and I smiled as I shut the door.

I blew out a breath. This was ridiculous. If this had been on television, Benny Hill music would've been playing.

I was about to head back when I heard a low buzzing. Suddenly, the light blew out with a pop, drenching the hall in darkness again. "Dammit."

Fortunately, the dining room and kitchen were still lit. Jenna looked up from the fridge, most of the takeout gone from the countertop. I was almost out the door when, "Wait!"

I stopped. Jenna shut the refrigerator and stood up, pointing. "Don't stay out late. It's a school night." The smirk that followed was smug with accomplishment.

I nodded, said a rushed, "Okay," and sped out the door.

Fortunately, once I was in the SUV the garage door opener was on the visor. I didn't have to waste time hunting it up. It occurred to me that if I was stuck in this mad world, I'd better become familiar with more than Elena's kitchen drawers.

Stefan was waiting beside the driveway, hands again stuffed in his pocket, slouching. He really had the seventeen-year-old act down. He came around the front to the passenger side and slid in.

He fastened his seat belt. We stared for several moments before I cleared my throat and finished backing out of the driveway.

I remembered Bonnie had gone left. What I wouldn't have given for GPS. I figured that if I kept heading west, I was bound to get to the center of town at some point.

Stefan sat quietly in the passenger seat. After a few minutes of the heater blowing, the low hum of the engine, and several turns, I remembered to ask where he found Elena's things. "Oh, I was missing something from my bag."

Stefan turned toward me and frowned. "What?"

"My phone."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"I'll go back in the morning before school. See if I can find it."

"You don't have to go to the trouble. I just thought you could let me know where—"

"It's no trouble. I go hiking at sunup. I'll be out in the woods anyway."

Right. Breakfast.

He reached into his pocket. "If I could have your number," he said, lifting out a flip phone, "it'd make finding it a lot easier."

Shit.

Sitting in the turning lane at a red light, the blinker clicked as I hunted for some excuse. Stefan watched me, phone open, thumb hovering over the dial pad, waiting. As the clicking went from a few seconds to a minute, he glanced down at the screen. "I'll delete your number as soon as I've found it."

Crap. "No, it's… it's not that." I squeezed the steering wheel. "It's um, just." I blew out a breath. "You'll think I'm stupid—"

"I won't."

He was so earnest I couldn't help but crack a smile. "I'm… really bad with numbers."

To Stefan's credit, his expression didn't shift a millimeter. "You don't know your phone number?"

The wheel creaked under my hands. "…No."

His phone's lid snapped shut. "I'll do my best, but I'm not sure I'll see it."

Damn. Then I realized Elena couldn't be the only one who knew it. "Bonnie! Or Caroline. They'll have it in their phones and their both going to be at the Grill."

"I'll ask—"

"Bonnie."

Stefan glanced at me before sliding his phone back into his pocket, "Bonnie for your number."

The signal turned green. I glanced at the street sign before pressing the gas.

Washington Street.

Holy crap. I actually made it. Turning onto Mystic Falls' main street with a grin, I could see the clocktower in the distance and headed for it. The Grill hadn't been that far from City Hall.

I remembered that Washington drew a square around the historic building from my walk. Passing the clocktower, I wondered if it had been there when Stefan was born. Fortunately, I remembered right about the Grill being visible from the town center. The restaurant and bar were down a street which fed into Washington. There was no parking left around the Grill, and the nearest alley had stairs leading down. I passed the building, and Stefan didn't make any comment, so I supposed there must have been parking elsewhere.

I was right. A small lot filled with cars was a short distance away. We got a poor space in the back, narrow and far from the street or the lights. I didn't mind when Stefan kept close as we made our way to the sidewalk.

It was cool but not cold, and the night was clear. The city's lights dimmed the stars, but the few that were visible dotted the black sky. "The comet must pass pretty close to see it without a telescope."

Stefan glanced at me. "Are you going to the festival?"

If I didn't wake up. "Caroline, Bonnie, and I volunteered to help out."

"Do you do a lot of volunteer work?"

"Caroline makes certain of it."

The soft murmur of music filled the street as we passed beneath the Grill's awning. Light shone from the windows. Approaching the door, Stefan reached out and held it open. I thanked him with a gentle smile.

The murmur of people, the tumble of ice clacking together, and the distant crack of pool balls greeted us. I smelled cooked food and a fainter hint of citrus. The lighting was soft on the eyes, and the largest impression was of wood. Wooden floors, tables, booths—all polished and shining.

We walked by the greeting counters, beyond which I could see the bar and wall to wall mirror. I half expected the song from the episode to be playing as we walked in. Everyone I recognized had their eyes on us. "Fashionably late," I said quietly, nodding towards the table holding Matt and Bonnie as I shucked off my jacket.

Folding it over my arm, we both slowed as Matt slid out of his seat to greet us. Soon as he was within reach, he held out a hand. "Hey. I'm Matt. Nice to meet you."

"Hi," Stefan said as he accepted. "Stefan."

Letting go, Matt's attention shifted to me. There was strain in the tense lines of his face. I offered a small smile. "Hey."

His blue eyes gentled. "Hey. Glad you came."

"Me too." When the emotion in his stare became too much, I glanced away and caught sight of Vicki carrying a tray of food and drinks to a back table. Unease bloomed in my gut and climbed my neck as I watched her, very much alive.

Damon was going to kill her, and then Stefan would have to stake her.

A touch on my elbow startled me back to Stefan and Matt. Stefan's hand dropped back to his side. I pulled my lips into something resembling a smile. "Let's sit."

Matt led the way back to the table he shared with Bonnie.

Grinning as we neared, Bonnie said, "Hey. You made it."

"Yep."

I turned, about to grab a chair when Stefan pulled one out for me. I glanced down, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear as I thanked him. I draped my jacket over the back and sat. Bonnie arched a brow, mouth edging upward.

Stefan sat beside me as Caroline and Tyler left their game of pool to join us. There were introductions all around. Caroline wasted no time, starting right in with the interrogation. "So tell us everything."

Tyler pressed his lips together and cast a flat look at Caroline. She either didn't notice or chose to ignore it.

Stefan spread his hands across the tabletop. "There's not much to tell."

Caroline glanced Bonnie's way before smirking. "I highly doubt that."

His eyes sought mine, though not to plead for help, like I would've expected. Instead, they glinted with amusement. Stefan turned back to Caroline. "I was born here."

"No one would live here who wasn't," Tyler declared as he leaned back into his seat, grabbing a glass slick with condensation.

Stefan shrugged. With everyone's chairs packed together, his jacket rubbed against my sleeve. My arm tingled.

"So you were born in Mystic Falls..." Caroline prompted after sending a warning glare Tyler's way. Tyler made a 'what?' face before rolling his eyes and turning away.

Stefan followed the exchange. "And moved when I was still young." Not necessarily a lie. Seventeen would be young to a hundred and sixty-year-old.

I wondered if he'd spin his answers from the frayed threads of truth the whole night.

Bonnie decided to join in the impromptu grilling. "Parents?"

"They… passed away."

A moment of discomfort passed as all eyes shifted unerringly towards me. Subtle. Remembering what I'd seen of his father, and how that ended, I thought of the little boy who'd lost his mother. "I'm sorry."

Unlike the others, Stefan's steady stare held an unspoken understanding that made me feel like a fraud.

Thankfully, Caroline was eager to throw out bait and try to reel his attention back to her. "Sisters? Brothers?"

In an instant, the gentle warmth his eyes had shone with all evening was swallowed by a darkness that, ironically, made him resemble his brother. "None that I speak to." He left that bomb on the table as he turned back to Caroline. "I live with my Uncle."

The first lie.

Caroline looked disappointed by the lack of elaboration in his answers. Not that she was prepared to give up. "Are you going to the party tomorrow?"

"He's new, Care. He might not know," Bonnie said. "It's a back to school thing at the falls."

Stefan turned to me. "Are you going?"

Never let it be said Stefan Salvatore was ambiguous about his interest. The guy had serious tunnel vision. Caroline's forehead crinkled as her brows tightened. Even Matt frowned. Bonnie beamed as she said, "Of course she is." She ignored Caroline's sharp glance.

But I was again thinking about a certain attack. My gaze drifted back to Vicki, now standing near the bar.

The last time I tried to avoid an encounter, I ended up making everything worse. I'd given Damon the opening he'd lacked with the real Elena. The party would have lots of people, which arguably made it safer than Elena's house. So long as I stayed among them, Damon couldn't do anything. I met Stefan's waiting stare, wishing I could ask for the vervain necklace early. "Guess I'm drafted."

Stefan's lips quirked. "Then I guess I'll see you there."

Our eyes held, the green within his bright and shining like sun dappled leaves.

"So," Caroline said, sharp and demanding. "Likes? Hobbies?"

Back slouching into his chair, Tyler scoffed. "You writing up the guy's profile or something?"

"Shut up, Tyler." Her lips barely moved, but a frosty Forbes glare did more than enough talking. Tyler huffed before settling back, acting as if he hadn't just been chastised.

"I like to read. Hike." Stefan said before turning to regard the rest of the table. "The woods around here are beautiful."

"And dangerous," Matt said, frowning. "With all the attacks lately."

"I heard." Stefan's expression never changed. Not even so much as twitch. "Predators don't stick around in one place for very long. I'm sure the animal responsible will move on."

I couldn't help but glance to the window overlooking main street. With the sun down, traffic was a trickle. The night pressed in around the slender yellow glow of the streetlamps. I looked for the shadow of a man, or a bird, but found neither.

"Hey, Elena." Vicki's voice drew my attention back inside the Grill. Pad out, she stood beside our table, eying Stefan before focusing on me. "Usual?"

I had no idea what that would be. "Actually, could I have chicken and some juice?"

"What? Like chicken tenders?" she asked, scribbling. "And we got orange, apple, cranberry—"

"Orange is good. And yeah, tenders sound fine."

"Okay." Vicki smiled at Stefan. Caroline rolled her eyes while Tyler tensed. "And—"

"Stefan," he said. "I'll have the same, but with a coke."

"Alright." Vicki's pen scraped along her pad. "Be back with your drinks."

"Thanks, Vic," Matt added.

"My job, ain't it?" she replied before moving off.

"My sister," Matt said.

Stefan nodded.

Caroline kept the conversation focused on Stefan for another ten minutes before Tyler had enough and dragged Matt off to a game of pool. Bonnie then redirected talk to their classes. Caroline contributed something other than a hundred questions for Stefan by sharing the latest gossip already going around.

I didn't say much aside from commenting on my classes. Bonnie and Caroline didn't seem to expect me to talk. Bonnie kept soliciting my opinion anyway, which was sweet of her, if inconvenient. I didn't know what the real Elena would say. I kept my answers brief, smiled and nodded a lot.

Stefan watched me. Not in a way that made me uncomfortable, surprisingly. He just gazed every so often, catching my eye and holding it until I had to grin and look away. He'd have a little smile on his face when I'd glance at him again.

Vicki brought out our food. I wasn't blown away by it, but finished most of the basket. I kept peeking at Stefan eating from beneath my lashes. It was both odd and not, knowing what he was, and yet it was such a normal thing for someone to do.

When I finished my glass of orange juice, he offered to go up to the bar to get me another. "I can wait for Vicki."

"I'd like a refill too," Stefan replied as he stood. He smiled. "I'll be right back."

"Okay."

I was impressed that Bonnie waited for him to get a whole five feet away before pouncing. "Elena," she demanded, leaned over the table on folded arms, "what happened?"

"Yeah." Caroline stirred at her iced tea with a straw before quirking a brow at me. "What are you two doing together?"

Bonnie shot her a look that Caroline returned with an arched brow. I shrugged. "I lost my bag on the way home. Stefan found it and brought it over." I picked up a napkin and wiped at my fingers. "So I invited him."

"You lost your bag?" Bonnie frowned. "How'd that happen?"

"I must have set it down for a minute, spaced and forgot it." Crumpling up the napkin, I dropped it in the empty basket. "That reminds me, he needs to get my number from you, Bonnie."

"Okay, but," she added her own napkin to my basket, "why not just give it to him yourself?"

"I forgot it."

"You forgot it," Caroline repeated, incredulous.

"It's not like I used it a lot, Caroline," I replied defensively.

Bonnie looked as if she regretted asking. "Sure, Elena," she interjected. "I'll tell him."

"Thanks," I smiled.

"So what's he drive?" Caroline asked.

"What, you don't already know?" Bonnie smirked.

Caroline rolled her eyes.

"I don't know." Which I didn't. I honestly couldn't remember from the show. "He walked."

Bonnie asked, "So how'd you get here? Did Jenna drop you off?"

"No. I drove."

Both girls stared.

"Elena!" Bonnie beamed at me like Jenna had. "That's great!"

Caroline fiddled with her straw. "So you won't need rides to school?"

I blinked. "Um. No?"

Before anyone could say anything else, Stefan was back with the drinks.

"Here you go," he said, setting another orange juice in front of me before sitting with his own soda.

"Thank you." I smiled at him before taking a sip.

His gave a little smile back. "My pleasure."

The conversation continued. By the end of the evening, as we were all leaving and saying our goodbyes, I felt much better, buoyed by Caroline and Bonnie's company and Stefan's flattering attention. The concern for the doppelgänger's draw to each other had mostly disappeared to the back of my mind, along with the fact he was a vampire.

That didn't stop me from checking the parking lot as we crossed it.

Unlocking the SUV, I realized it would be strange if I just drove us both back to Elena's. If Stefan had really walked, and wasn't a vampire, Elena would be rude not to offer to drop him off at home.

But would Damon be there?

Settling inside, I debated with myself the whole time. My fingers had gone cold, and I missed the ignition the first time I tried to insert the key. When I finally got the engine turned on, I sucked down a breath and cleared my throat. "Do you want me to drop you off at your place?"

Stefan was quiet for a moment. "I can walk from yours."

The knot in my stomach began to unwind. Still, anyone else would probably find it odd and worrisome. They'd make sure. "It's late."

His answering grin was more than a little self-deprecating. "I'll be alright."

The ride was quiet. It wasn't awkward, though. A Black Eyed Peas song filled the car. Between the food, the bloodloss, and all the stress of the day, the headlights were pulling my attention like a moth to a flame. Rolling up to a red light, I stared into the other cars' lights until spots danced in front of my eyes. The mechanical chords of the music started to sound like a horn. And the lights got bigger and bigger until they were filling my vision as the horn blared—

"Elena?"

Stefan's hand on my shoulder snapped me back to my senses. The light was green. The car behind us was honking. Spots floated around my vision like psychedelic fireflies.

I took a breath, working on getting my head on straight as I accelerated through the intersection. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Stefan frowned.

"I guess I'm more tired than I realized." I blinked, as if that might clear the afterimages from my retinas. "I didn't mean to space off."

"It's fine." The warmth in his voice was lulling. "It's been a long day."

I cracked the window to stir in some fresh, chilled air. It helped keep my mind focused despite the weariness that crept around the edges of my thoughts. Leaning forward, I hit the search button on the radio and let chance pick the next station. It landed on country.

As if he could sense the fight I was waging with my own exhaustion, Stefan said, "I had a really nice time tonight."

Like the cool breeze, his words helped keep the weariness at bay. "Me too."

"Your friends seem nice."

"Once you get past Inquisitor Caroline, you mean."

He chuckled.

The sound made me feel stupid and drunk and happy. No. Murderous vampire. Eater of small woodland creatures. It wouldn't do. I tried to remember what happened when I let the last one in. Except that brought up thoughts of Damon's mouth pressed against my neck and his body curved over mine. I concentrated on the road to give myself time to arrange my expression into something less fawning and glow-y. Once I was properly composed, or at least less obviously besotted, I said, "You realize she's going to tell the whole school everything about you."

One glimpse of Stefan's slight smile and the ridiculous feelings were back. Worse, they'd brought friends. "I'm new. They'll lose interest soon enough."

"You have seen you, right?" I was pretty sure he had a reflection. A glanced at the passenger window as we passed under a streetlight and… yep. Reflection.

Stefan kept his eyes on the road, but the corner of his mouth turned up again. "Once or twice."

"Once or twice," I mimicked as best I could. Which wasn't very well, not in Elena's voice. Not that I'd do much better in mine. "Sorry to break it to you, Stefan, but they're not going to lose interest anytime soon."

He gave a doubtful hum. "I'm not very interesting." I scoffed at the idea. He shrugged. "I mostly keep to myself. I'd rather stay home and read then go to a party." He glanced over. "They'll find something or someone more exciting to talk about."

"You're going to the Falls."

Stefan smiled. "You're going to the Falls."

Oh, that little shit. I had to purse my lips to ward off the stupid smile that was determined to break through. Why did everything vaguely complimentary send me into a tizzy? It had to be the pull of the doppelgänger.

That and he was far too handsome. It really wasn't fair.

Big fluffy bunnies. Being eaten.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"I mean if you want to spend time with me." What was I saying? This was a bad idea, but my stupid mouth kept going. "You could call. Make plans." Why couldn't I shut up?

We pulled up to another red light. I took the opportunity to look over. His eyes somehow shone, even in the heavy shadows cast by the dim dashboard lights of the car. "Plans."

I gripped the wheel and nodded. Ugh. I hate myself. No self-control.

"What kind of plans?"

"I don't know. Like tonight."

"Hang out. Have dinner."

He was doing this on purpose. I would have angled an unamused look his way, but the light had gone green and I needed my sights back on the road. "Yes, like hang out."

He answered with a grave nod, as if this was important information. Like I'd shared the solution to some complex mathematical equation. Or the secret to the cure for cancer. "Okay."

"Okay?" My eyes narrowed. There was a trick here.

"Okay," he reiterated.

I waited for the follow up. The dreaded 'date' word. It was an obvious opening, and anyone would have taken it. Except he didn't. As if some tentative accord had been reached, a soft and easy silence fell between us. One only the soft croon of Love Story filled, until the tension bled out of my body and I settled back into the seat. I was never going to be able to listen to Taylor Swift the same way again. My shoulders relaxed as we passed out of the business district and into the still and soft lit neighborhood streets.

How could Stefan be dangerous? He felt safe. So unlike his brother, who made every primal instinct in my body scream at his nearness. Stefan was calm and steady. Cautious of boundaries. Respectful.

It stayed comfortably quiet all the way to Elena's house. Shaking myself from the lull the rest of the drive had lured me into, I turned to thank Stefan.

Whose eyes were fixed on my neck.

I stilled, but my heartbeat rabbited as I held my breath.

Gritting his teeth, Stefan's jaw flared. He turned his head away and stared out at the garage. After a moment, he opened his door and slid out into the night air. When it shut behind him, I was finally able to breathe.

Okay. So there was the fear I'd been waiting for. My hands tightened into fists as I struggled to keep my breathing even and calm my racing heart. The last thing I wanted to do was tempt him.

I guided the SUV back into the garage. What was I doing? Wasn't one vampire's attention enough?

But Stefan had himself under control. For now. And if I was stuck in this world, and events started happening, I'd need to have him around.

Wow. Not to be selfish about it.

Given everything that happens to him, it'd probably be better for Stefan to run for the hills and get far away from Elena. She'd bring the Originals into his life. Lure Katherine back.

But no. He'd already proven his fascination with her. He wasn't going to take off.

Feeling calmer, I let out a long breath and got out of the car. I left the garage door up, figuring I'd close it once I went back inside. Stefan was waiting just beyond, hands tucked back into his jeans.

"Thanks again for inviting me," he said as I exited the garage.

"Thanks for coming." I fiddled with a key, winding it around the ring.

He smiled, and it eased more of the fear lingering in my chest. "I better get going."

"Yeah. It's late."

He nodded. "Good night, Elena."

"Night Stefan."

I watched as he strode off, until I lost him to the darkness between the houselights further down the street. For all I knew, he had sped off.

The house was dark once again as I walked into the kitchen, Jenna and Jeremy nowhere to be seen. I went to flip the switch and—

"Son of a bitch."

The lights wouldn't turn on. Frowning, I made a note to myself to check for spare bulbs the first chance I had to do some snooping. Until then, I had to feel my way around the counter and through the rest of the first floor.

The light under Jeremy's door was on, and I could hear him speaking to someone, though the exact words were lost. I moved on to Elena's room. And promptly discovered the light in here was out, too. I let out a disbelieving huff. "You gotta be kidding me."

What was going on with all the lights? I flipped the switch a few more times, but it remained dark except for a mix of moon and streetlights seeping in through the thin curtains.

I tossed the purse onto the desk and decided to deal with it later.

I'd had reading to do for class tomorrow. But between the bloodloss, the turmoil of emotions, and now the lights being dead, I wasn't going to be able to concentrate. And it wasn't as if I hadn't done all this before. I'd be fine leaving it tonight.

Besides, what if I woke up?

It was with that hopeful thought that I went to bed.

#fanfic #the vampire diaries #tvd #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #the more things change #ofc #damon x ofc #stefan x ofc #elijah x ofc #klaus x ofc #oc #elijah mikaelson #klaus #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #caroline forbes #jeremy gilbert

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taehyungiejiminie95 · 5 years

Text

The Necklace

Forbidden - Seokjin

It is written in law that on a child’s 15th birthday, they will be presented with a necklace that will guide them to another necklace, belonging to whom their heart will. These necklaces are forged in the depths of an deep sea facility, and must be requested between the birth of the child and the child’s 1st birthday in order to be fashioned correctly. One must include a small vial of the child’s blood, a lock of their hair, and also sufficient DNA from both biological and (where appropriate) adoptive, fostered or guardians of the child. Failure to comply will result in the disobedient parties being punished accordingly, and the child will need to be taken under the observation of the facility. No child is permitted to surpass their 15th birthday without receiving this gift. Should this – for any reason – happen, the child should report this to their local authorities quickly so that this may be rectified.

You finally meet the man who shares the same necklace as you, but there’s just one problem - if you date him, you’ll lose the job you treasure so much. That and the fact that he’s not the man you would ever picture yourself to end up falling in love with.

Word count: 16,348

You sigh as you pull your hair back into the same tight ponytail that you do every morning. Sometimes it seems so pointless. You know you’ll just pull it out in frustration later on, probably when one of your employees messes up again and you have to fix their mess before management finds out and has your ass for it. Smiling thinly, you stand up and smooth out your blouse. You have the same mundane conversation with yourself every day, but it never changes how you do your hair, or anything else, for that matter.

You glance in the mirror as you pick up your bag, checking that you look presentable. Frowning over your collar as you do every morning, you pull it up to hide your necklace as you head out to your car. Of course you’d be cursed with a choker as your necklace! You, a respectable business woman, wearing a choker! It’s absurd, and it’s caused more problems than it’s fixed. They say that you have the necklaces to stop heartbreak, and to guide you to your True Love, but you just don’t see the point. If True Love was so amazing, wouldn’t it be obvious the moment you saw it?

The drive to work is the same, too. The same idiots cutting you off, the same tired students trudging through the streets, the same stressed mothers pulling their screaming kids away from a toy shop window. It’s all so ordinary. So repetitive. Like every morning, you find your mind wandering to the owner of same necklace as you. ‘Maybe they’ll change it all for me,’ you think to yourself, ‘Maybe they’ll light up my world and make even these ordinary things seem exciting’,

“Hello, Matthew,” you say curtly as you pass the large marble desk in the lobby of your office building, cursing your accidental greeting, and therefore your parent’s insistence on manners at all times. It’s become ingrained in your mind, and there’s no escaping it. Matthew is the receptionist, and to be frank he’s a creep. He always leers after you in a disgustingly sexual way, despite your modest attire and your very clear ‘no’. You’d think these god-awful necklaces would stop encounters like this, but they don’t, and his disgusting advances are a constant reminder of this,

“Good morning, sexy. Why don’t you let me unbutton that top? You know I love blue on you, but it’d look better on the floor of the supplies closet,” Matthew replies without missing a beat. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you continue walking to the elevator, speeding up as you do your best not to retort. It’s best not to dignify him with a response, you’ve come to realise over time.

You smile thinly as you hold the elevator open for an older man. When the days aren’t so stressful, maybe the smile would be genuine. But as your mind thinks of the copious amounts of work waiting for you on your desk, you can’t bring yourself to do it. As the elevator ascends, you find your fingers fiddling with your collar again, ensuring for the last time that your necklace is completely covered. Before you get lost in work and everything you have to do, you throw one last curse to the idiots who made it. It’s just ridiculously obvious and inconvenient, especially for a woman in your position. You struggle to get taken seriously by the board as it is, without this childish piece of lace wrapped around your throat.

The smile you give your assistant is a little more genuine than the one you gave the man in the elevator, but she will still be able to tell that today will not be a day when she can sit in your office with her lunch-time cup of tea. Over the weekend, a lot of things had changed in the world, especially in politics. This, surprisingly, affected your company. Of course it did! Because the world hates you and wants to give the department manager of a stupid clothing business more stress than they can deal with. Why not?

1pm seems to crawl up to you at an insanely slow pace, but your alarm finally goes off to signal lunch, and you sigh. You stretch your arms as you stand up and throw a glance at the number of unopened emails that still sit impatiently in your inbox. 114. Great. Looks like you’ll be taking lunch at your desk again. And by lunch, that means a well-earned cup of coffee.

The chatter of the lunchroom never ceases to amaze you as you enter. You pay these people to work, not to talk about Nancy’s barbecue or whatever the topic of gossip is today. But you know it doesn’t really matter. You can’t be the only one who feels that everything is a bit repetitive, so you let them have their little moments of interest. In the grand scheme of things, half an hour of work lost doesn’t mean much. You trust that they’ll make it up at one point or another. Then you see your most recent hire. He hasn’t earned said trust, and certainly not with the way he looks right now.

It’s undeniable that he’s incredibly attractive. He’s the kind of attractive that makes both women and men trip over themselves as he passes, and the kind that you could only expect to see on a big screen, starring in the latest movie. Broad shoulders, strong jaw line, kind eyes, a beautiful smile and a general charm about him. You’d interviewed him yourself, and apparently he wasn’t all looks. He had a plethora of experience in marketing, so it would be stupid not to have hired him. The only issue is his attitude.

You suppose it may just be his insistence on complete individuality. You don’t have an issue with his individuality, but he’s so adamant about sticking out like a sore thumb and it’s already causing issues within the department. On the first day, he’d shown up in tight leather trousers. You’d quickly shut that down, of course, but he’d only switched to formal trousers that were just as tight the following day. It was like a constant battle with him over the rules of the workplace,

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N,” He smirks at you, moving out of the way of the coffee machine as you approach. You smile as pleasantly as you can to a man who you consistently clash with and set about making your coffee, “And how is your day going so far?” He asks, leaning back against the counter, crossing one of his legs over the other. You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to charm his way out the inevitable talk you’re going to give him about appropriate clothing in the office,

“My morning was going much better until I saw that choker around your neck, Mr Kim,” You reply simply, turning to face him as your coffee brews. He’s a good head above you, so the fact that you have to crane your neck up to see him isn’t ideal, but it gives you a better vantage point to take in his outfit fully - tight black trousers, with shined black shoes, a crisp white shirt neatly tucked in with the top three buttons undone and there, hugging the base of his throat is a black choker, not unlike your own,

“Please, call me Seokjin, or Jin, if you’d rather. I’m sorry my choice of attire is so distracting to you,” Mr Kim replies with ease. There’s no way you’ll be calling him Jin. You’re professional - unlike him. You purse your lips tightly as you choose your next words carefully. Your eyes are inexplicably drawn to the choker around his neck, examining the patterns intricately designed on it. It registers in the back of your mind that it’s very similar to what is on yours, and you have to make a physical effort to not adjust your collar out of nerves,

“It’s not distracting to me, it’s simply inappropriate. Chokers are not allowed to be on show here. If you could refrain from wearing it in the office, that would be more than ideal,” You reply slowly, drawing your words out carefully so that he can’t twist them around. You feel your chest tighten as you see that his lace strip is exactly the same as your own, and you try to listen very carefully to his words,

“I can’t. It’s the necklace gifted to me on my 15th. You know that the implications of refusing to wear it are quite awful,” The man replies, his charm edging slightly at the mentions of such consequences. His shoulder twitches like he shivered, and you have to control your own body’s tremors as you remember the authorities at your door when you voiced your disdain at the choker you were given all those years ago. You close your eyes briefly before trying a new tactic,

“You weren’t wearing it last week, Mr Kim,” You tell him simply, feeling confidence enter your body again. There’s no way you share the same necklace. He definitely wasn’t wearing it last week, and yours has a pendant. It’s a small glass teardrop and it’s nowhere to be seen on Mr Kim’s, so there’s no need for you to worry,

“It was in for repair. The pendant fell off while I was out running. I’ve been advised to just wear it backwards from now on,” Mr Kim replies, smiling that smile that you’re sure he reserves especially for situations like this. You freeze at the mention of the word pendant and the fact that he was getting it repaired. You have to take a few quick breaths to steady yourself as you continue,

“Then perhaps you would consider buttoning your shirt up? As you can see, it’s not that difficult,” Your words (shockingly) don’t fail you even once as you gesture to your own collar, turning back to your coffee to finish preparing it. Amidst all this panic, you’d almost forgotten about your one true lifeline. You add a sugar cube and stir until it’s dissolved, barely noticing that Mr Kim didn’t reply as you scold yourself in your head. You got so ahead of yourself for a moment. There’s no way that this Seokjin is your True Love. Life isn’t a badly written book. Coincidences like this don’t just happen.

But apparently, fate has some awful vendetta against you, because it keeps putting Mr Kim in your path. Every day, that choker wrapped around his neck taunts you, and he refuses to cover it up. You’ve told him nearly every day for three weeks to dress himself appropriately for his job, but he still seems to be taking some kind of joy from disobeying you. At this point, he’s directly challenging your authority, and that’s what’s bothering you more than anything. So, you leave a lovely little email in his inbox late on Friday night, so that it’s ready and waiting for him on Monday morning:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Due to your continued aversion to rules, I am requesting a meeting with you at 1pm on Monday to see if we can reach an understanding. Should we fail to do this, you will find that I will be placing a formal complaint. Thank you, and I’ll see you Monday.

Best Wishes,

Y/N Y/L/N

Part of you was dreading Monday morning, so even the mundane parts of your journey in seemed to entice you like never before. You scoff slightly at this – Mr Kim was not lighting up your world in any way, so why should your wish to appreciate the ordinary be coming true?

You find yourself lingering in your car, wishing you didn’t have to go through with the informal meeting. Being alone in a room with Mr Kim isn’t exactly high on your bucket list at the moment. You give your assistant a grim look and let her know that 1pm until 1:30pm will be a time where she is not to disturb you and must redirect all calls to her own phone. She nods understandingly and offers you an encouraging look that you really need. Especially when you find a teasing reply to your own email in your inbox, apparently sent just minutes ago:

Miss Y/L/N,

Thank you for your email. I very much anticipate our meeting. I’ll bring you your favourite coffee, and you can have one of my sandwiches too. I noticed that you don’t usually eat lunch. Luckily for you, I always pack 2! See you soon,

(I told you to call me-) Jin

P.S You’re going to hate what I’m wearing today

The morning slips through your fingers all too fast, and you find yourself calling for Mr Kim to come in all too soon. You fight the urge to purse your lips - a bad habit you’ve picked up over years of work - at the sight of Mr Kim entering with a lunch tray, overflowing with food and two coffees. He was right in his email. You do hate what he’s wearing: trousers that are still too tight, accompanied by a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his toned forearms perfectly. Of course, he’s left his usual three buttons undone, so your eyes are naturally drawn to his choker. You settle for a frown, crossing one of your legs over the other as Mr Kim pushes some of the clutter on your desk out of the way, and places the tray down. He then sits himself down in the left of the two chairs by your desk, and looks more comfortable than you’d like,

“Mr Kim, this is not a social call,” You remind him firmly, stifling a smile when he quickly sits up straighter. You take the coffee from the tray and take a sip from it, before placing it down on your desk and moving your chair closer to your desk, “Thank you for the coffee. Now, you know why I’ve requested this brief meeting, yes?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you sort through the paperwork on your desk, trying to come off as a little nonchalant. It’s undeniable that you’re nervous around Mr Kim, especially since with every passing day you become slightly more sure that your necklaces might actually match,

“I told you, I prefer Jin. If you’re not comfortable with that, Seokjin is fine. There’s nothing wrong with a little familiarity,” Mr Kim presses, raising an eyebrow at you. Your breath definitely didn’t hitch at the sight of that, “And yes, I’m well aware that you frown upon my choices - not that the necklace is my choice. I know as well as you that we have to wear these,” Mr Kim continues, his voice warm and silky, the words rolling off his tongue in a way that you’re most certainly not admiring. It takes you a moment to realise his comment warrants a response, and you clear your throat as you tear your eyes from his choker,

“Mr Kim-” You start, but then he hums in disapproval. Rolling your eyes, you give in a little, “Seokjin, then. I understand that wearing the choker is not your choice. However, you need to keep it covered in the workplace. This rejection of the rules… I don’t see how it’s going to earn you anything other than unemployment at this rate,” You finish, your eyes trained on the space between his eyes. Something’s telling you not to look into them directly,

“This rejection of the rules comes from passion. Passion, I believe, that actually got me this job. Am I wrong, Miss Y/L/N?” Seokjin probes, and you nearly scoff in response. Who is he to question you in such a way? You clench your jaw as you lean forward in your seat,

“Seokjin, I gave you this job and I can take it away. I don’t appreciate your defiance, I don’t appreciate your inappropriate clothes and I don’t appreciate your choker,” You tell him, a fire burning inside of you that you haven’t felt in a while. In the back of your mind, you recognise it as passion. The same passion that you see in Seokjin’s eyes regularly,

“You have one,” Seokjin replies simply, and you fall back in your seat in shock, tugging your collar up in embarrassment. Your cheeks burn red and you try to get a response out through the panic shooting through your mind. You were always so careful with your collar! How did Seokjin even notice? “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” Seokjin assures you, but it does nothing to stop the burning panic in your chest. What if he thinks that you have the same one too? You don’t want to deal with that awkward question,

“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr Kim. I see that your mind can’t be swayed. You can continue to wear your choker, and I’ll ensure that nobody questions it. Thank you for your time, here’s your lunch, you can go,” You get out in a rush, standing up as you hand him his tray. Seokjin starts spluttering in shock, but you’re already shooing him towards the door. He eventually just sighs, placing his tray back on your desk and staring at you with a hard gaze. You cross your arms and stare straight back. You refuse to become pliant under his eyes. You can’t let him think that he can walk all over you,

“Can I see yours?” Seokjin asks, and his voice seems to drop all traces of false charm. He sounds almost timid, and that’s what shocks you most of all. He looks vulnerable, and almost small in the way that his bottom lip is jutting out slightly. He looks lost all of a sudden, and your heart hurts for him. He looks just as lost and as confused as you feel. Maybe that’s what compels you to unbutton your collar, showing him your choker, and the small teardrop pendant that hangs from it. Seokjin gasps and fumbles for his, but you shake your head,

“Please don’t show me. I don’t want to see,” You whisper, wondering when in the hell you became so soft and quiet. But Seokjin doesn’t listen, and you try to stop him. You grab his hands, throwing all of your boundaries to the wind in your desperation. But that doesn’t stop him, and he wordlessly pulls his choker round, revealing to you a small glass teardrop.

Before you even know what’s happening, Seokjin’s hands have fallen from his necklace and have placed themselves on your cheeks. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning in, lips looking soft and kissable. For a moment, you want to lean in too, but then alarm bells go off in your head and you wonder what the hell you’re doing. Your hands come up and shove Seokjin’s shoulders hard, wanting him away from you quickly so that you can think straight. He stumbles backwards, eyes wide with hurt as he waits for an explanation with burning cheeks,

“That is not appropriate. Relationships between members of staff here are strictly prohibited. If you approach me in such a manner again, I will be forced to terminate your employment here,” You splutter, smoothing down your shirt like having Seokjin lean towards you was going to rumple it. At least it gave you an excuse not to look at him.

While you busy yourself with that, Seokjin’s mind is racing. He just can’t seem to figure you out. Sometimes you look at him like he had a chance, but now he makes a move and you get hostile! He just doesn’t know what to do. It’s obvious from the necklaces that you’re meant to be together in some way, so Seokjin doesn’t understand why you don’t just let him show you. Maybe you’re scared. That thought makes it easier for Seokjin to understand so that’s what he goes with. Scared seems right. Scared makes it easier for Seokjin not to get angry. Well, for him not to get too angry. He’s still upset and a little humiliated, so he clenches his jaw and hurries out of your office, not even bothering to say goodbye to your assistant before deciding he needs to leave work early.

Back in the office, you’re huffing to yourself as you sit yourself back down in your chair, running a hand through your once-neat hair. How dare he assume you’d fall for him just because he has the same necklace as you! Just because ‘fate’ or whatever it was decided that you’d fall in love, it didn’t mean that you already have, or that you’re just going to fall to his feet without so much as a date first.

That’s how you explain it to your assistant when she comes in to see if you’re okay. Apparently Seokjin had looked pretty worked up when he left, so she’d wanted to make sure you weren’t any worse off. Luckily, you’d mostly pulled yourself together by the time she came in. Like you were going to let someone like Seokjin come in and ruin your whole composure by only nearly kissing you! Your world doesn’t revolve around men, like it clearly does for your assistant, if her next comment is anything to go by,

“Well if I’m being totally honest with you, Y/N - and I always am! - I’d love to be in your position. Seeing him walk away is always fun, watching that butt go!” She squeals, and you’re ashamed to say that you feel a strange feeling bubbling up under the surface of your skin, making you snap a little too quickly,

“Don’t be so crude. I’m sure you have some work to do, so I suggest you attend to that,” Your words are harsh and clipped, but your assistant doesn’t even flinch. She just stands up from where she was perched on your desk and gives you strange smile before exiting your office, closing the door slowly behind her.

The next day, you come up to your office to find that your assistant has not shown up to work. Your briefly wonder if you were too harsh yesterday, but she did say goodbye to you as she usually would before leaving. She must just be off sick - not that you have much time to deliberate over the possibilities for the absence of the woman who’s never caught so much as cold in her life, given that a certain someone is sat on your desk when you go into your office.

Seokjin seems far too relaxed, his face once again holding that smile that somehow seems both humble and cocky at the same time. He looks nothing like the flustered man showing you his necklace yesterday, although you do hurry to push the image of that from your head. However, it doesn’t take long for your mind to become preoccupied, since Seokjin is swinging his legs like some sort of overgrown child. You purse your lips in response as you shed your suit jacket and hang it up on its rack,

“Get down from there, Seokjin. It’s not a playground, it’s my place of work. And you can hurry along to your own desk now, I made clear I didn’t want to see you after… after yesterday,” You tell him, cursing yourself for nearly mentioning in words what Seokjin had attempted yesterday. You’d been doing so well at acting as you usually had, other than that slip and the accidental use of his actual name rather than your preferred ‘Mr Kim’,

“You’re the one who sent the email. If you didn’t want to see me, you wouldn’t have asked me up here again. I assumed you wanted to talk,” Seokjin replies without missing a beat, slinking down from your desk gracefully and putting a hand into one of his pockets. You try not to stare too long at how confident he looks, instead pursuing your confusion over his words,

“What email?” You shoot back, not caring that your speech lost its eloquence. Your eyebrows pull into a frown as you fold your arms, trying to make it clear through your body language that you don’t want Seokjin to take any more steps towards you. Luckily, he seems to get the message, and stops short of your personal space as he gets his phone from his back pocket, showing it to you:

Mr. Kim,

Come to my office immediately upon your arrival tomorrow morning.

Y/N Y/L/N

You scoff at the email and dismiss it with a wave of your hand. You’re not stupid, so you recognise your own assistant’s attempt at your style of emailing when you see it. She’s been replying to the less important emails of yours for a long time now, so you’ve grown accustomed to it. It’s blatant that she’s off from work to hide from your wrath at her poor attempt at forcing you and Seokjin together, but you can’t find it in your heart to be mad right now. Well, not when you’re looking at Seokjin’s face growing slightly more confused and flustered as he stows his phone away, embarrassment kissing his cheeks,

“So it wasn’t you who sent that, then? I guess I hid my necklace for nothing,” He huffs, the last sentence so quiet that you probably weren’t meant to hear it. But you do, and so you finally allow yourself a moment to give Seokjin’s outfit a once-over with your eyes.

It’s mostly appropriate, and that fact nearly brings a smile to your face. His trousers are quite tight, but not overly tight like he usually prefers. His shirt is white in colour, and it contrasts well with his black hair. Seokjin has even opted for a suit jacket that matches his trousers, and his tie is tightened up to his neck properly. Even though you can tell that the top button isn’t actually done up, it would probably be unnoticeable to someone who wasn’t scrutinising it. The most prominent feature of his wardrobe choice today is the fact that his choker is hidden absolutely perfectly. You can’t even catch a glimpse of the black lace wrapped tauntingly around the base of his throat,

“I know you’re busy, but maybe we could grab lunch? I feel maybe yesterday was a little rude of me. I’d appreciate the chance to make it up to you, and perhaps we could get to know each other a little instead of me making more stupid decisions,” Seokjin says with a hesitant smile, tearing you from your thoughts. You’re frowning before you can stop yourself, starting to shake your head,

“I don’t think that’s a particularly great idea. I don’t think a date is app-”

“Not as a date! Just as my apology for yesterday. I was too forward and it must’ve been quite intimidating. I want to see if we could start over and I could be more respectful,” Seokjin cuts you off, a clear panic rising in his voice. You sigh and shake your head to yourself, wondering why on earth you let him get away with so much with you. If anyone else ever cut your words you’d be furious. But for some reason, you let Seokjin get away with it. You even agree to get lunch with him at 1pm, so long as you’d made a dent in the pile of work waiting for you. Seokjin seemed pleased with that, smiling widely as he exits, promising to be outside your office at 1pm on the dot. And so he is.

As you’re about to pull your suit jacket on, trying to pretend that you’re not excited for your lunch out with Seokjin, he lets himself in, quickly grabbing the collar of it to help you put it on. You smile bashfully and thank him, trying to not to let the blush burning your cheeks show through too much. That proves a lot more difficult than it should be, however, since Seokjin acts as the perfect gentleman. He holds open all the doors for you, and even pulls out a chair for you when you reach the café a few minutes from your building.

While Seokjin goes up to get the both of you some coffee and some food (after much debate over his insistence that he’ll pay for it all) you find yourself sitting at the table nervously, fidgeting more than you ever have before. You just can’t seem to fathom why you’re this nervous. It’s not like you to be this on edge for a simple lunch date that apparently isn’t even a date, if you’re to believe Seokjin.

It doesn’t take long for Seokjin to make his way back over to the table you’re seated at, his brow pulled together in concentration so that he doesn’t spill any coffee or let any of the mountain of food fall from it. You raise an eyebrow as he sets it down before taking a seat across from you, smiling widely. He begins to explain that he couldn’t help but get lots of food, since it all looked so good and you don’t seem to eat much lunch, but then his phone buzzes twice in his pocket. He continues talking as he gets it, but stops quickly hen his eyes dart over the screen to read whatever it is that’s on there,

“Everything okay?” You ask cautiously, hoping that he doesn’t suddenly ditch you and run out. That might have happened to you a few times in the past, and you can only imagine how humiliating it would be for it to happen with one of your colleagues. The paling of his face only reminds you of why you don’t like to date, and you’re just about to excuse yourself and make a quick escape when Seokjin shoves his phone back into his pocket with a little more force than is really necessary. But just as quickly as that show of aggression appears, it’s gone, and his face is relaxed into a smile,

“My mother’s always texting me when she gets aggravated. She hasn’t taken well to her new home, and she can’t work out how to turn on the TV yet. She thinks that’s my fault of course,” Seokjin shoots you a sheepish smile at that, “Not that it’s anything to worry about. We have a lunch scheduled,” He finishes, handing you the coffee he ordered for you. It’s your favourite, so you can’t help but smiling into it as you wrap your cold hands around it, nodding both in thanks and agreement,

“I know what that’s like. My mother’s a complete technophobe. I don’t know what she’d do if it wasn’t for my father,” You joke, surprising yourself with how at ease you sound with Seokjin. You thought it would take weeks (months, perhaps) for you to warm up to him, but there’s something about him that makes you want to tell him everything, despite your mind insisting that he’s too unruly for you,

“I must admit that I do feel quite bad for messing you about with the dress code so much. So, it got me thinking - how about you call me Jin and I dress like a business man more often?” Seokjin says further into the lunch, after finishing his second sandwich. You chuckle to yourself and swallow your bite of the muffin you’d chosen over the rest of Seokjin’s ‘food haul’ as he had aptly named it,

“How about I call you Seokjin and you respect my authority as your superior?” You fire back, a teasing tone finding its home in your voice. For the second time that day, you surprise yourself. You’re normally so serious and insistent about the rules, but here you are joking about them with someone who blatantly ignores every single one of them,

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Y/L/N, but I am forced to decline. Jin or I’ll wear the leather trousers again,” Seokjin replies without missing a beat, like he’d anticipated your response. You can’t figure out how he’d possibly managed that, since your answer had shocked even you, but you’re slowly learning to just accept Seokjin as you see him. With that in mind, you place your empty coffee cup down with a small smile of defeat,

“I’d be upset with that response if you weren’t one of the best negotiators in my department. I agree to your terms, Jin,” You reply, trying to hide the wide smile threatening to break through your resolve. Seokjin - well, you suppose it’s Jin now - rewards you with a stunning smile that knocks the very breath out of your lungs, as much as you’d like to deny it. After a few minutes, you’ve decided that maybe he isn’t so bad.

And after lunch, you’re nearly completely sure that he isn’t so bad. He holds great conversation, knowing exactly when to back off from a topic, and just the right questions to ask to keep things going smoothly. He tells you more about himself without bragging and without talking too much, giving you just as much of a chance to tell him what you want to. He’s not pushy or inattentive in any way - in fact, he’s leaning forward with interest most of the time, and he even maintains eye contact well without being creepy about it. You really can’t find any fault in his manners or his conversational skills.

Maybe you’ll have to reconsider your previous thoughts about why you can’t possibly like Jin. He hasn’t brought up the near-kiss yesterday other than skirting around it that morning in your office, and he hasn’t tried to do anything that’s uncalled for. He seems like the kind of person you might just be friends with, after all. Perhaps more… No. You can’t let your mind run away with itself. It’s only a lunch between colleagues.

At least, that’s how you’re justifying it in your head as you laugh loudly at one of his jokes on the way out of the café,

“I think it’s about to start raining,” Jin mutters as he glances up at the sky, frowning at the darkening clouds. You huff quietly, knowing that your luck will cause the heavens to open, making you look like a drowned rat for the rest of the day. And you have a meeting at 3pm! An important one! This must be the universe’s cruel way of punishing you for doing what you’re apparently meant to do - that being getting to know Jin a little.

Or maybe it’s the universe’s way of helping you along a little.

Jin slips his own suit jacket off before you can protest, holding it up to shield you just as the first drops of rain start to fall. You can’t help the amazed laugh that falls from your lips, completely unfiltered, and so different from the controlled way you’d been laughing with Jin before. You don’t have time to get embarrassed though, because Jin’s smile is directed at you in full force, and he’s seemingly unaffected by the rain soaking him through as he does so,

“Are you sure, Jin? You could get sick without any kind of jacket on in this weather!” You remind him as you both set off in a fast walk (rather awkwardly, since Jin is still holding his jacket over you like some kind of limp umbrella). Jin brushes your comment off easily,

“I saw the calendar on your desk this morning. You’ve got some important things going on this afternoon, so it’s my duty as your colleague to make sure you look presentable for them,” Jin assures you, sending you a quick wink that you pretend not to see.

Luckily, the café is only a few minutes from the building you work in, so you’re both in the lobby soon, smiling and laughing as Jin shakes his jacket off before donning it with a grimace, scrunching his nose up at how damp it is. You’re just about to apologise when you hear a loud wolf whistle from across the room, making your blood run cold,

“Hello there sexy! What a treat you’ve got there. My favourite colour on you other than the pretty blue you wear for me. See through,” Matthew, the receptionist, shouts at you from across the reception space. The familiar chill runs down your spine as his words cut through your ears. You feel like crying when you look down to see that your white blouse is now almost completely transparent, since your suit jacket had come undone on the journey back to the office. But before you can even worry about that, Jin is bristling beside you,

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, talking to such a respectable woman like that but you need to stop. I’ve seen you outside that bar downtown, leering after the women there. It’s disgusting, and you should be ashamed. Maybe if you knew how to treat a woman like Y/N you wouldn’t be stuck in a dead-end job with no chance at even that necklace saving your miserable life,” Jin spits, shoulders straightening as he marches over to the desk to further intimidate Matthew.

For the first time in your life, you see the receptionist shrink into himself, eyes darting down in fear. The bloom of pride in your chest is pushed aside quite quickly though, although you can’t ignore the gratefulness you feel. Once again, Jin’s aggression disappears in the blink of an eye, and he shrugs his suit jacket off once more so that he can drape it over your shoulders, informing you that it’ll have to do to keep you decent until you get up to your office. You don’t even try to refuse this time, simply thanking him as you walk towards the elevators.

When you and Jin stop slightly outside of your office, you realise that your assistant finally showed up. She looks up from her computer with a smile that can only mean one thing - she did plan this, and she’s enjoying the fruits of her labour. That does something to you, and you find yourself handing Jin’s suit jacket back without a second thought, pulling your own tighter around you,

“Thank you for lunch, Mr Kim. I’m glad we could come to a compromise,” You say simply, ignoring the look of hurt that flashes across Jin’s eyes before he manages to compose himself,

“Don’t shut me out again,” He mumbles, trying his best not to allow your assistant to hear too much. You just shake your head and turn around to reach for your office door,

“I don’t know what you mean. Good day, Mr Kim. And I’ll need a fresh shirt, please. I got caught out in the rain,” You rush, saying the last part to your assistant before heading into your office without another sound, leaving Jin stood there holding his suit jacket, with an expression like a kicked puppy.

It’s not until much later that night that you realise what calling him Mr Kim would mean for you the following day. Your phone pings with an email from Jin as you sit down to turn on the TV. Sighing, you turn to read it:

Guess the deal’s off then. Negotiations are still open on this number. -Mr Kim

Following that short message is two things - a mobile number and a picture of Jin, stood in front of a mirror, holding up his leather pants.

You decide to ignore Jin’s email, much preferring to try and push it to the back of your mind. You very nearly do it as well, until you open your email again as you drink your morning cup of coffee at your kitchen table. It’s still there, glaring at you in all its disobedient glory. It’s right there that you resolve not to pay any attention to it. Seokjin is like a child that’s acting out, you think to yourself. Ignore him and he’ll get bored.

So that’s what you try and do.

Only, that proves to be a little more difficult than you thought.

Seokjin is conveniently waiting in the coffee room where you go every morning before you take lunch, but you try your very best to pay him no mind. He is in his leather pants, but you don’t say anything. It takes a lot of effort because they are definitely tighter than you remember but you force your eyes to glide straight over him, as if he wasn’t even there. Of course, since you don’t look at him, you don’t see the way his hopeful smile falls into something resembling a lost puppy. You didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Just as your clock hits 1pm, you decide you are more hungry than you thought and you decide to head out to pick up a sandwich. You could use the air anyway - this week’s been tough, so it might be beneficial to go out. But it’s like the universe really does hate you, because when you leave your office, you see Seokjin sat carefully on the edge of your assistant’s desk, a frown on his face as the two converse. Once again, you act as if he’s not there, making eye contact with your assistant instead. You’re about to tell her that you’re heading out for lunch, but Seokjin suddenly hurrying away (tripping as he does) throws you off a little. It only takes a moment to recompose yourself, though.

You come in from your brief lunch feeling much better than before. It was a little chilly, but nothing you couldn’t handle. It was nice, and you’ll definitely open your windows more. Your head was nearly completely clear of stress until you entered the building and remembered that you have responsibilities and a job to get on with. And then you enter your office and there’s a flower on your desk. You know exactly who left it.

And that same person takes it upon themselves to leave you a different flower every single day, apparently sneaking in to leave it when you go out for lunch. You tried staying and taking lunch at your desk, but then it just appears outside your door. It’s been two weeks and three days - you counted - and you’ve decided you’ve had enough. You don’t have enough space in your only vase anymore, so you take it upon yourself to call Seokjin on the work landline to ask him to stop,

“Mr Kim?” You ask curtly, wanting to check you got the right number first. You can practically hear the shaking in his voice when he confirms that it’s him. Your heart definitely doesn’t thump harder at how sweet it is, and it most certainly does not change your plan, “I need to see you in my office immediately,” You tell him, hanging up promptly. You almost think that the feeling in your stomach is butterflies, but you’re not a teenager. You’re better than that. Then he comes in,

“You wanted to see me?” Seokjin announces his presence timidly as he enters, a small smile on his face. You allow yourself to really look at him for the first time in two weeks. As you allow yourself to do so, you feel a few of your walls crumbling around you. The way he plays with his fingers as he hovers in the doorway is endearing, and the way he blinks a little too much as his eyes look around your office. You notice the slight widening of his smile when his eyes find your vase of flowers. You’ve grown quite fond of it brightening your office, really,

“Yes. We’re going to lunch,” You suddenly say, before you can talk yourself out of it, “And I’ll pay this time,” You finish, standing up and adjusting your shirt before picking up your bag. Jin looks surprised but catches on pretty quickly, flashing you a jaw-dropping smile before taking your jacket and holding it up so you can put it on easier. You hide your blush as best you can, but maybe not so well.

You walk side by side with Jin, enjoying the air as you’ve grown accustomed to. Today seems a lot nicer, but maybe that’s just because you’re with someone - even if that someone is dressed in tight clothes again. Seokjin is a lot quieter than last time you went for lunch together, but you suppose that’s normal. You’d acted as if he doesn’t exist for weeks on end, but now you’re taking him for lunch. It’s understandable if he’s wary - you are too! You don’t know what you’re feeling. On the one hand, you know you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not appropriate, and Seokjin isn’t your type. He’s relaxed where you’re uptight. He goes with the flow where you follow the rules. He’s the complete opposite to you, but it’s for that exact reason that you’re drawn to him. He balances you, and you can only hope that he feels the same.

Seokjin is quiet, but no less a gentleman. He walks beside the road, holds open doors and you notice how he barely stops himself going to help a child that just fell over - he probably would have if their mother didn’t appear seconds later.

When you enter the same café that you’ve become a regular customer of, you ask Jin to go and get a table while you get the food and drink. You see him about to protest, but don’t give him the chance. You’re in line before he can even blink.

You try to watch him as subtly as you can while you order and wait for your food. He chose a more secluded spot - a booth in the far corner - but you can still see him. He’s chewing on his lip and playing with his thumbs as he looks out of the window. That seems nervous, but his eyes are wide and warm, his back is straight. Looking at that, you have to conclude that he’s not nervous. He’s just tense.

When you sit down, you see him let out a shaky breath, a small smile lighting face up just a tiny bit. Just a tiny bit, but enough to make you have to look down, hiding the smile trying to fight its way onto your face. You cross your legs as you take a sip of your coffee, but then Seokjin decides to speak,

“Do you find me attractive?” Seokjin asks, and you choke on your drink. You see him hiding a laugh behind his hand as you grab a napkin to wipe your chin, trying not to laugh at yourself. You’d always thought of yourself as a very collected woman, but Seokjin doesn’t seem to care at all. He just presses on, “So is that a yes?” He probes, and you can feel a blush creeping up your neck. Seokjin is a very attractive man, that’s undeniable. It’s just not appropriate to say so. But he keeps going on, and you notice that he really does have impeccable patience,

“Yes, okay, fine! I do, just shut up,” You rush, eyes flickering down to your lunch as you try to hide from his delighted eyes. Seokjin’s lips curl up at the sides into a sweet smile and you try to calm your breathing while Seokjin takes a bit of his food. A few minutes pass in vaguely awkward silence before Seokjin speaks again,

“Then, am I a bad person?” He asks, and you quickly catch on to where Seokjin’s going with this. You shake your head simply, not wanting to satisfy him with a verbal answer. He’s clearly trying to back you into a corner, and you can’t avoid that by any measure. He’s a great business man, so he quite literally does things like this for a living. It’s what you pay him for, “Do you hate me, by any chance?” He probes further, and you decide you’ve had enough,

“Is this going somewhere, Mr Kim?” You fire back. You wouldn’t have invited him out if you’d known you’d be facing the Spanish Inquisition. But in true Seokjin style, he simply rolls his eyes and reminds you that his name is Jin, “That doesn’t change my question,” You reply, crossing your legs under the table in an attempt to compose yourself into your usual business-like self. Seokjin pulls his face into something that resembles exasperation, but you know that glint in his eyes,

“Why won’t you give me a chance?” And there it is. You knew the question was coming soon, so you’d already prepared your answer. Admittedly, it doesn’t roll off your tongue in the way you’d like, but you were actually pleasantly surprised by the fact that you remembered quite so much,

“Under Rule 37, Section G, it states that two workers may not enter into sexual relations with one another under any and all circumstances. Failure to comply may result in a probationary period followed by the relievance of duty or demotion. I want neither of those,” You tell him, and Seokjin raises one of his eyebrows,

“Impressive, but I raise two issues with that. I’m not asking you to have sex with me, and you invited me to lunch today. I don’t think you care as much as you make out to,” Seokjin counters, and you bite your lip in consideration. You had assumed that this courting or whatever it was is Seokjin’s way of getting close to you for a few nights and then leaving. You’d previously judged him as the kind to disregard his necklace entirely, but perhaps you judged him wrong,

“I’m confused,” You mutter, eyes darting down towards your coffee. You wonder for a moment if Seokjin even heard what you said, but then he nods, signalling that he understands that. He’s confused too, “So, yes. I did invite you out for lunch, no you are not asking to have sex with me, but I do care about the rules as much as I make out to. It’s just that I wonder if maybe there could be something more important than the rules,” You continue, voice barely a whisper,

“I’ve never really cared much about rules,” Seokjin sighs, and you raise an eyebrow ironically. You know that all too well, “But I can see that you do, and that’s okay. We’re kind of like Yin and Yang, right?” He probes nervously, and you very nearly laugh, although you do settle for a small smile,

“Yes, if you agree that you’re Yin and I’m Yang,” There you go joking again! It’s no surprise that you’ve never got anywhere with personal relationships before. You’re basically emotionally constipated, never able to be truthful about how you feel. You must be giving Seokjin whiplash,

“Fine, if you agree to let me take you to dinner,” You shake your head in disbelief. Maybe you’re inconsistent with your attitude, but so is he! Half shy, half confident, neither of you know where you stand with the other and that’s exactly the problem with the both of you. If you could communicate more, you’d get somewhere. The thing is, you’re too busy worrying about being proper, and Seokjin’s too busy worrying about being confident, “Sorry, was I too forward again?” Seokjin sighs, sensing your hesitation. You bite your lip as you quickly mull things over. Seokjin’s trying to reign in that façade of confidence, so maybe you can reign in your whole ‘severe’ vibe,

“I’ll agree to dinner, but I won’t drink. We can meet as friends at most, but nothing more. Let’s take this easy,” You suggest, and you’re rewarded with Seokjin’s beautiful smile. The both of you know that you share a necklace, and it’s pretty much either each other or nobody, but you’re right. This is love, you’re dealing with. It can’t be forced, regardless of what these necklaces imply.

As you get dressed for dinner a few days later, you sigh a little out of nerves. He’d persuaded you to come over to his house, and for whatever reason, you conceded. After all, what better way to get to know a man that see how he lives?

You realise that Seokjin couldn’t have been more right about the two of you being Yin and Yang as you, though. If you’re the pure white Yang, then it’s Seokjin’s Yin that’s managed to help you do this. You’re dressing casually, in simple jeans and a t-shirt. Appropriate for a casual dinner, and it even shows off your choker. You haven’t done that in a long time, and you note it down to the appearance of Yin in your Yang.

On the other hand, Seokjin’s seeing a little Yang in his Yin. He loves to break the rules - many people would label him as chaotic - but for you, he wants to stick to them. There’s no wine in sight as he prepares dinner, and he’s not wearing anything provocative. Sure, his jeans aren’t loose, but they’re normal for what one would see on the streets. He notes it to the appearance of Yang in his Yin.

Regardless of any Yin and Yang metaphors, you’re still nervous when you pull up into the driveway of Seokjin’s home. You tug needlessly at what you’re wearing, trying to fix it even though there’s nothing wrong with it. You look nice, you’re just nervous. It’s like nervousness is a default setting when you’re around Seokjin.

You somehow manage to make yourself knock on the door to Seokjin’s (beautiful) house, and you hear a muffled bang from behind the door before it’s opened. He looks very composed and collected, but you can see his eyes. He’s anything but calm. His hair is parted neatly down the middle, but you recognise the tell-tale signs of messiness caused by him running his fingers through it and then hurriedly patting it down. He’s breathing just a little bit too quickly, and a light blush kisses his cheeks. He’s nervous too,

“You came,” He smiles - he doesn’t smirk, doesn’t act like he knew you would. He looks genuinely happy (and dare you say, surprised), “Come in! I tidied up as best I could, but please excuse any mess,” Seokjin says, stepping aside so you can come in. His eyes graze down your body respectfully, not hungrily or as if he’s expecting something from you, but in a way that fills you with confidence, confirming that you do definitely look good,

“This place is beautiful,” You say quietly as you kick off your shoes. It’s a proper house - one bedroom, you assume - with a driveway and stairs and everything. It’s well-lit and modern and pretty much exactly what you’d expect of Seokjin. There’s ‘things’ everywhere, too - photos of his family and friends, little souvenirs from seaside trips and it’s quite sweet. He’s a sentimental man at heart, you see,

“You can just put that down, I’ll be hiding that for the rest of my life,” Seokjin suddenly breathes, snatching the Mario statue that you’d picked up. You laugh loudly and Seokjin blushes furiously, shoving it into a drawer and hiding it. You’re starting see a new side of Seokjin. He’s hiding something behind all of that confidence, and he’s actually really cute. He’s a dork, and that’s more attractive on him that you thought it would be.

Seokjin feels butterflies in his tummy, and he doesn’t know what to do about that. They scare him quite badly, if he’s being honest, but then he sees your smile as you see what he’s set up in the kitchen, and he becomes sure that it’s worth it. Yes, he’s scared, because giving his heart to someone is a dangerous thing, as he found out in the past, but if he had to trade the pain you could cause him to see you give him that smile, maybe that’s okay,

“Why are you such a good cook?” You mutter bitterly as you stab at the pasta dish in front of you. When Seokjin told you that he’d made everything from scratch, you’d been prepared to be disappointed. Most guys who said they could cook meant that they’d successfully heated up some soup once, but Seokjin really meant it! “Seriously, who allowed me to go all of my life without tasting something this amazing,” You sigh, smiling to yourself at the shy blush that spreads up Seokjin’s neck again. You’re not sure which suits him more - shyness or confidence.

You get to know each other over dinner in a way that you hadn’t in the lunch not-dates you’ve had before. You know some shallow things about him, but this is difference. You’re sat opposite other (under the guise of friendship) with some good food between you and it’s different. You open up about your genuine passions and desires and Seokjin shares some more about his family life,

“Your mother again?” You say teasingly when Seokjin checks his phone. It’s been buzzing on and off for a few minutes, and his face paled when he eventually gave in and looked at it. It. Takes a few moments for Seokjin to snap back to the real world, but nods jerkily when he does. He gives you a shaky smile and takes a gulp of his water before replying,

“Bane of my life sometimes, but what can I do?” He admits, and you laugh in agreement, standing up to collect the plates and take them to the sink, “What are you doing?” Seokjin demands, looking at you curiously as he brings the glasses to the sink with you,

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m washing up our plates. I’d feel bad if you cooked such a good meal and then had to clean up after yourself. You cook, I clean. It’s only fair,” You say, exerting the kind of authority Seokjin has only ever seen in meetings. You leave no room for arguments as you run the hot water, smirking at his lost expression,

“But you’re the guest,” He protests, and you feel that you’ve been here before, but in different positions. Seokjin insisting on you using his nickname, or on wearing tight pants to work, and you trying to think of a good reason why he shouldn’t other than protocol. You smirk and grab a tea towel from the side,

“You can dry the dishes if that helps you feel less rude,” You console, throwing the cloth at him playfully Seokjin catches it with ease and shakes his head in disbelief. He could get used to this side of you,

“I bet I can dry faster than you can wash,” He states simply, raising an eyebrow as he baits you into a challenge. You scoff, grabbing a plate with a smirk and accepting his challenge without another word.

You let loose for the first time in too long, forgetting about all of your inhibitions and letting yourself just live in this moment with Jin, laughing and smiling and not worrying about the morning or what he thinks of you or anything like that. You let yourself be happy, getting water everywhere and not caring that you’ll be helping to mop up the bubbles on the floor in a few minutes,

“Oh my God, that was too far. I am so sorry,” Jin utters almost inaudible, rooted to the spot and frozen in place. He’d blown a handful of bubbles at you, sending them everywhere (including your hair), and you’d stopped instantly, giving him your best glare. Jin really worries that he just messed up badly, but then you swipe a hand through the water, covering him in both water and bubbles and he can suddenly breathe again, “How could you? I almost had a heart attack,” He complains, flicking bubbles off his shoulder as he shakes with laughter,

“I knew I was intimidating! Time for you to concede defeat in this battle,” You taunt, gesturing to the fact that you have no dishes left to wash and Seokjin still has a few bits to dry. Yes, he was set up to fail from the beginning, but do you care? No. You just won!

The night comes to an end naturally, and it doesn’t feel awkward when you get ready to leave. You’d enjoyed yourself - that much is clear - but you’re just about ready to go home and overanalyse everything that’s happened while pretending that you’re not. Jin also feels this natural lull in the evening. This would be the perfect time to offer for you to stay the night with him, but he doesn’t really feel the need to. He doesn’t want to mess this up. Going slow is okay. At least it’s going,

“Thank you so much for agreeing to this,” Jin tells you softly as he opens the front door for you. You blush a little, feeling bashful all of a sudden, as you slip on your shoes and step out into the cold night air. Jin comes out behind you, shutting the door, clearly offering to walk you to your car. You don’t protest, tucking your hair behind your ear as you turn to him,

“You don’t need to thank me for having dinner with you. I enjoyed it,” You assure him, feeling your steps become smaller and slower as you get to your car. You don’t really want this night to be over,

“I definitely do,” Jin whispers, so quiet that you’re almost completely sure you weren’t really meant to hear it. The conversation halts naturally like that, and you smile slightly as you reach your car. You look up at Jin and wonder if all of the rule breaking, all of the consequences, all of the fear might just be worth it,

“This was nice. We should do it again,” You suggest, and Jin nods just a little too eagerly, smile genuine and hopeful. You go to get into your car, opening the door and about to duck in when you decide that you’re not quite done yet. You lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to Jin’s lips, “See you on Monday, Jin!” You say, heart pounding as you duck into your car, hoping that Jin can’t see the stupidly big smile on your face as you put your seatbelt on and drive away.

He does. He also noticed how you called him Jin for once, and he noticed how soft your lips were against his. He also noticed how much he wishes he could kiss you again.

Your relationship blooms from that night. It blooms from that one night and one slightly bold move from you. It remains without a title, but it’s still beautiful. It’s all stolen kisses and lunches together, and you couldn’t be happier. You meet at the weekend to go on dates, and after a while just to curl up together and watch TV. You like the same TV shows anyway, and it’s starting to become so easy to be around Jin. It just feels right.

You haven’t forgotten about the rules in the slightest, though. They’re always sitting there in the back of your brain, muttering quietly since you refuse to listen to them. Why should those rules ruin this wonderful chance at happiness? Because that’s what you have here. When you look at Jin, things just make sense. The rules are backwards, anyway. You’re all given necklaces that point you to your soulmate, but if you meet them at work, what? You’re supposed to ignore it? It’s so messed up, but the corporation doesn’t care about happiness. It cares about money, and workers hooking up and having babies slows that down. You understand that, and respect it. You just don’t like it.

Jin, on the other hand, is getting a little fed up of it, though. You drop his hand anytime someone you know passes, you always want to sit in the secluded corner of the café by the office, and you asked him to stop bringing flowers to your office. Jin hates being nothing more than your dirty little secret, and he wishes that he wasn’t so scared of losing you that he could just say something.

Jin wipes his palms on his trousers as he approaches your office, trying to come up with a polite way of broaching the subject of him being upset that you won’t go public with him. He understands your qualms, and he knows that you’ll be upset with him for saying that he wants to be more than what he is and he knows that it may just ruin everything, but he can’t go on feeling like this. He deserves to have his feelings heard in whatever kind of relationship that the two of you had.

That’s just one of the problems - he still doesn’t even know what the two of you are! It’s been 3 months and you haven’t put a label on the relationship yet. It’s not that Jin desperately needs the validation of one or whatever, it’s just that he’s really falling for you and he wants to be sure that you do feel the same way about him. So he doesn’t need the label he just… needs it. This is exactly why he’s trying to put the sentences he wants to say to you together in his head. He can hardly think right now.

But as fate would have it, apparently it isn’t time to ruin everything just yet. He goes to knock on the door to your office, finally able to start trying to explain how he’s feeling, but you open it at that exact moment. The beautiful smile on your face as you look up at Jin melts his heart and his resolve along with it. The last thing that Jin wants is to lose that smile even for a second. The moment he loses that, he’ll also lose the chance of happiness with you.

So instead, he changes his plan,

“I’m here to take you to lunch. You work too hard,” Jin says without missing a beat, offering a gentlemanly arm for you to take. You look at it longingly, but shake your head, reminding him that you can’t be seen together like that. And the spell is broken immediately. Jin suddenly remembers why he’s really outside your office, shaking his head as he laughs at himself. Why is he so weak for you?

The atmosphere is barely above frosty as you walk down to the café you’ve been frequenting, and you take your normal seat while Jin goes off to grab the food. For once, you don’t protest about splitting the bill. You’re too preoccupied, allowing your thoughts to wander as he joins the long line characteristic of the lunch time rush.

It’s no secret to you that Jin is better for you than you thought - you accepted long ago that your first judgement of him was wrong. It seems almost unimaginable that you were horrified to be sharing a necklace with him. Now you can see that this is exactly the kind of love that you were always dreaming of. Jin’s moving at a snail’s pace for you, and he’s not forcing you to go public before you’re ready to. He buys you lunch most days, and he always remembers how you like your coffee. He gives amazing hugs and when you curl up on the couch with him, he always makes sure to pull the blanket right over your shoulders. He doesn’t even protest when you want to watch bad romance films.

But of course, like in one of those bad romance films, that perfect image of a perfect love is shattered just as Jin sets the tray of food and hot drinks down on your table,

“Kim Seokjin! What in the name of fuck do you think you are doing?” Comes the shrill voice of a tall, slim woman, with a furious look on her face. She storms over, heels clicking in the silence that her shout left in the once bubbling café, “Don’t tell me you’re out with this bitch again? I let it slip the first few times, hoping you would get whatever this is out of your system!” She shrieks, reaching your table and placing a perfectly manicured hand on her waist. Her back is to you, her eyes glaring down at the horrified man sat across from you, “Here I am, waiting patiently for my boyfriend to come home, and you’re out with this whore!” It feels like the floor falls out from underneath you, and the world starts to spin. Seokjin already has a girlfriend.

You stumble back into your office, tears streaming down your cheeks, ignoring the calls of your assistant as you slam you door behind you. You know you’re acting like a petulant child but you don’t care. How could you care about anything right now? You were really starting to fall for Seokjin, thinking you may genuinely love him, and now it’s all come crashing down.

You’ve heard the stories about people finding love with a different necklace, but then there’s the side stories that come with it. The two people each half of the couple left are stuck with a ruined love, because they would no longer have a soulmate to call their own. It’s beginning to sink in that you’re one of those people.

That’s why you allow your walls to fall down for the time being. You cry hard, your body wracking as you accept that your life will never have colour. It will always be as boring and as repetitive as it always has been. Seokjin can’t save you from that, because he already has someone that does that for him. You’re about to cut the damn necklace from your body when you hear a knock at the door, making you jump out of your seat. You grab frantically for a tissue to run under your eyes, mopping up the running mascara as best you can. It’s lucky that you don’t have any important meetings scheduled for today - it’s more of a paperwork and email kind of day - because you must look worse than broken,

“Come in,” You call, trying to sound confident and assured, but knowing anyone who’d spoken to you more than twice would hear the give away quiver in your voice. There’s a slight pause before the door to your office is pushed open, revealing to you Seokjin, who looks as broken as you feel, “I take it back. Get out or I swear to God I will call security,” You threaten, voice wavering less as anger courses through veins. It replaces the sadness and humiliation you feel, protecting you for the time being. Seokjin’s eyes, his beautifully warm eyes, are bloodshot from unshed tears, and his hair is ruffled and out of place. He’s panting and he can’t hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds before having to tear his eyes away,

“Please just let me explain. I swear to you that if you hear me out it will make sense, but please. Y/N, love, I can’t lose you,” Seokjin pleads, and you try not to flinch at the sound of his pet name for you. It’s become more common in his vocabulary as of late, almost as if he’s hinting at something. Not that you care now (well, you do, he’s your soulmate, no matter how much you hate him right now) about any of that. You scoff, rolling your eyes dismissively as you reach for your phone, ready to call security to deal with Seokjin. Your finger is hovering over the speed dial button when you’re interrupted by the sound of someone awkwardly clearing their throat from the doorway. It’s your assistant, a panic-stricken look marring her usually soft features,

“It’s Mr Price, miss. He’s here,” She informs you, voice barely above a whisper, and for good reason too. Your stomach seems to drop even lower as the landline falls from your hand. Mr Price is the CEO of your company, and even though he works from this very building 6 days a week (from the top floor, of course, someone as high up as him is obviously too good to bother with a lower floor) nobody ever really sees him. Funnily enough, nobody has ever complained.

Mr Price is a large pig of a man, with an arrogant voice and a sneer permanently plastered on his face. He takes pleasure in making his workers squirm and cry, and you don’t doubt that there isn’t a single person who wouldn’t give him exactly what he wanted simply to make him leave. He’s been through 14 personal assistants in the last year alone. Essentially, if he comes to see you, it’s very bad news,

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N! Wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you,” He drawls, barging past your assistant, who mouths a sincere apology to you before ducking out of the room. You can’t blame her for making a quick getaway. If you could do the same, you’d do just that, “And Mr Kim, too. Not a surprise, but that’s good. I won’t have to make two trips today,” He sneers, sending shivers down your spine. He’s been in the room all of 10 seconds and his disgusting vibe is filling the room effortlessly. You once thought CEOs would have to have social skills and a nice smile, but clearly Mr Price has never found the need for either of those things, “I am so sorry to hear about what happened in the café at lunchtime. Very humiliating,” Mr Price says with mock sympathy, sitting himself down your desk with the aura of a man who’s been handed everything on a silver platter, “I’m sure you know why I’m here. Not only did your little fling cause a scene, it’s very much against the rules. You were a hard worker, Y/L/N, but you’re not irreplaceable. You’re fired, effective immediately, due to a breach of contract. Relationships between colleagues are strictly forbidden under any and all circumstances. Collect your belongings and leave the building in the next 20 minutes,”

You’re reeling as you stand up, steadying yourself with a hand on your desk. You robotically reach for the few personal items you keep on your desk while trying not to let your hands shake too hard. This was your dream job. You worked so hard to get to where you are, only for Seokjin to come and tear that all down! He didn’t even think twice about it. You told him this would happen. You told Seokjin it was against the rules!

But you did it anyway. You kissed him and went on dates with him, and even though it hurts for more than a few reasons, a small part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe it was all worth it, if just for the splash of colour Seokjin threw into your life while he was still in it,

“You can’t fire her!” Seokjin shouts, enraged. It’s not fair for this to happen to you. You were always so careful, so composed, so hard working, and this is what you get for it? That doesn’t sit right with your once-soulmate one tiny bit, “If she’s fired then I quit,” He spits, voice smug as if he really thinks he did something. You pull your coat on as you shake your head. Seokjin’s a child, really. He doesn’t understand the real world just yet, you think to yourself,

“Mr Kim, you are not irreplaceable either. I was going to fire you next anyway. Not only do you disobey our very simple dress code, you also engaged in a relationship with Miss Y/L/N here. Go and pack away your desk,” Mr Price demands dismissively, a sick smirk on his face. If your heart wasn’t breaking with every second you spent looking at Seokjin, you’d tell him that you told him so. About the dress code and the rule breaking.

You hit play on the first movie you see on Netflix, knowing you’re not really going to be paying attention to it anyway. You hold a glass of wine in your hand as you curl into yourself on the couch, the bottle on the coffee table in front you, ready to be used to drown your sorrows. You’re barely even begun to process what’s happened today, but you’ve processed enough to know that none of it was good.

First of all, you found out that Seokjin has a girlfriend, which would have been enough to ruin your day anyway. Then you get fired because you and Seokjin were found out by the company. You weren’t even really with him! That’s the real kicker here, because you never even got the chance to have a label with Seokjin, and now you never will. That title is taken by someone else, even though you know it should be yours. Seokjin is meant to be yours, not hers! You share a necklace, she has no right being with him, but does she care about that? Does Seokjin?

Your eyes glaze over as you continue to stare at the movie, taking the occasional sip from your glass of wine. That’s not even helping much. It tastes like stale water, and you can’t believe a guy like Seokjin has got you feeling like this. It’s not like you at all, but then again… he is your soulmate.

You can’t remember what’s going on at this point in the film (someone is crying, but you don’t know why) but you’re still so absorbed in your own thoughts and woes that you don’t even hear the knock on the door. It doesn’t even register in your mind until a pleading voice accompanies a follow up. It’s a voice that you’ve become all too familiar with, and it jars you out of your own head long enough to pay attention to it,

“Please Y/N, open the door. Just let me talk to you. I swear to God that I can explain everything. I was going to say it back at the office because I didn’t want to leave you thinking about it for too long. You must be thinking the worst things about me, but I promise that I can tell you the truth,” Seokjin pleads. For a few moments, you let his voice wash over you, and you were going to ignore it. But then, as if the anger surged out of nowhere, you all but leap out of your seat and storm up to the door, wrenching it open and standing up to your full height.

Seokjin had been thankful when he heard movement form inside your house, thinking he would get his chance to explain, but then he actually saw you. Your hair was blown behind your shoulders form the force with which you opened the door, tear tracks stain your face and your eyes are bloodshot and swollen. You’re not crying right now, though. You look like the very personification of rage and anguish,

“Fuck you, Seokjin,” You spit, not giving him the chance to speak, “You lost me my job and you ruined my only chance at happiness while you were at it. How dare you try and take things slow with me, playing with my feelings when you had some other woman waiting for you to come back into her arms. I can’t believe our damn necklaces paired us together, because we are so far from soulmates,” You hiss, starting to shake as all the emotion bubble out of you,

“Please just hear me out-”

“No. I am so done talking. Get the fuck off of my doorstep,” You seethe. How dare Seokjin continue, even now, to persuade you that he’s anything other than bad news,

“I’m not leaving until you listen to me,” He threatens weakly, shoulders sagging as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s losing this battle,

“Then freeze out there, I don’t care!” You slam the door before Seokjin can so much as blink. The sound of the slam rings in your ears for a few moments before you break down again. You can’t help it, can’t stop your shoulders shaking as you cover your mouth with your hand to muffle your cries as you sink to the floor, leaning against the door for support. You need to come to terms with the fact that you will never fall in love. It doesn’t matter that you were starting to with Seokjin, because he’s chosen someone else. How are you meant to start that kind of love with someone else? You have no necklace to guide you. You just have to accept that you will never have someone to change your mundane life and fill it with colour. Maybe you were just never meant to have that,

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Seokjin says from the other side of the door. He’s leaning against it, breathing shakily into the cold night air to try and keep himself composed. He doesn’t know if you’re still there or if you’ve really turned your back on him. He couldn’t blame you even if you had. He can’t even begin to imagine how this must look to you, “Well, not anymore,” He sighs, “I was desperate. A few years ago my grandmother made a comment to me asking if she’d ever get to meet her great grandchildren. She asked why I even had a necklace if I wasn’t actively searching for my soulmate. You’re not supposed to search for them, I told her, but she scoffed at that. She never believed that the necklace would draw someone into your life by chance, that it was down to you to search for them and find them. I stewed on that for weeks, and then I broke. I posted a picture of my necklace online and waited for a response. I got one a few days later.

“She was a childhood sweetheart of sorts. We dated as teenagers, before we got our necklaces. I broke up with her on her 15th birthday because hers wasn’t the same as mine. She seemed pretty upset over it but I didn’t see anything wrong with it. We simply weren’t meant to be. She told me over text when we got back in contact that in the following weeks, after we’d stopped talking, the authorities had shown up at her door explaining there had been a mix up, and she’d been presented with the wrong one. They had come to give her the real necklace she was meant to have. She explained that she didn’t know it was the same as mine at the time, but when she saw my post, she knew. I got a picture of the necklace she’d been given as the replacement, and it was the same as mine.

“I know now that I shouldn’t have broken down like that and caved in. I should have trusted that the right person would walk into my life like they’re supposed to, but like I said, I was desperate. I’ve read hundreds of horror stories like mine since then, and realised I shouldn’t have done it. It turns out she’d managed to have a necklace identical to mind made so that she could get me back. I didn’t even question it once. Nobody’s ever been given the wrong necklace before. It just doesn’t happen, but I accepted it anyway. I went with it. I found out shortly after we moved in together. Of course, since she did technically have a necklace to wear, she didn’t have to wear hers, but she still kept it. I found it in her bedside table one night when I was looking for my charger. I left that same day.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t believe me. I know it sounds made up,” Seokjin sighs. Throat dry at how much talking he’s done, “I don’t even know if you’re still listening to me, but I don’t care. I’m falling in love with you and I am not giving up on my chance at happiness. I’ll stay here all night if I have to,”

“Why did she turn up at the café?” You ask, voice croaky and thick with tears. You’re not sure if you’re happy or annoyed at Seokjin’s promise to stay there all night. Either way, the statement shocked you into speaking. On the other side of the door, Seokjin’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your voice, although it also shatters a little at how broken you sound. He hates that he’s responsible for that. He crouches down to where he heard your voice from, resting his forehead against it as he speaks,

“She’s not well, Y/N. She’s got a lot of problems, and she’s been stalking me for a while now. Texting non-stop, turning up on my doorstep, all of it. I tried not to let you know because I didn’t want you to hurt. You shouldn’t ever have to hurt,” Seokjin explains, shaking his head at how pathetic he must sound. He should have been honest from the start,

“When you said it was your mother…” You start, unable to finish your sentence properly. You wipe under your eyes roughly and sniff loudly. You hate it when you cry, because you can’t breathe all that well. That’s enough tears for now, you tell yourself firmly, hoping you’ll listen to your own advice,

“It was her,” Seokjin murmurs, ashamed of his own answer, “It was dishonest, and I have no excuse for that. I know it’s no consolation, but I was going to come clean at some point. It’s just that I hoped by ignoring her, never answering her texts or opening the door to her, she’d go away. That’s what you’re supposed to do with stalkers, but I never knew she’d take it this far. She had to ruin this like she’s ruined everything. She ruined your life as well as the one thing I want above all else,” You wait with bated breath for Seokjin to continue, “You,” And you know you shouldn’t open the door, but for God’s sake, you’re falling in love with him!

“Swear to me you’re telling the truth,” You demand, pulling the door open. Only this time, you’re not the picture of anger. You’re shaking and blinking too fast to keep the tears at bay, but you don’t look angry. You look like a painful mix of hopeful of hopeless. You’re beautiful, and Seokjin stands up with shaky knees. He always knew you had a serious effect on him, but now it’s manifesting physically. He grabs the side of your door to steady himself,

“I swear to you that I am telling you the truth. The whole truth. No more secrets. Not now, not ever,” He breathes, and the tension crackling between you seems to turn into something a little different,

“Jin, I’m scared,” You whisper, taking a step forward just to be closer to him. Something in you needs to be, and that’s what scaring you. You can’t ignore how badly you need him, on a raw level. More than spiritual, more than emotional. You need Seokjin, and in light of what he’s told you, maybe you can put things aside and work on it. God, this needs work, but you really want to work for it. For him,

“Don’t be scared. I promise to never hurt you again,” He replies, bringing a hand up to cup your face. His eyes are wide and reflect your scared expression in them. He couldn’t drop your eye contact even if he tried, and he feels exactly what you do. That tugging in his heart that makes him want to give and give and give everything he has until you own him completely. He’s never wanted someone in this way, and he knows now that he doesn’t need this necklace to tell him how he feels. He would know anyway, “I love you,”

“Fuck, I love you too,” You all but whine, jerking forward to press your lips to his. Immediately, it’s unlike any kiss you’ve shared before. Seokjin groans into your mouth, moving his free hand down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulls you right into his chest, pressing the two of you so close together that you can feel two heartbeats in your chest. It’s overwhelming, but you let the feeling wash over you and you lose yourself in it. You lose yourself to Seokjin, letting his lips guide yours as you twist your hands into his hair, tugging on it gently because you want to be closer still.

He pulls away first, and the two of you are panting as you take a few moments to simply look at each other. Your hands rest on his chest, curled into loose fists in his shirt so that you can stay standing. You’ve never been kissed like that before, but you already know that you’re craving more. You need more of Seokjin, and with some effort from both of you, you’re sure he’ll give you that,

“So, what do we do now?” You ask shyly. Seokjin smiles down at you with a euphoric expression, tucking your hair behind your ear slowly as he thinks,

“It’s up to you. I’d like to spend the next two and a half lifetimes making this up to you, so if you’ll allow me to, I’ll make us dinner and we can cuddle. I can also go home and leave you to have some space, though, if that’s what you want. Today has been a lot, and if you need some time to come to terms with everything, I’ll give you as much as you need,” You lean forward to rest your head on his chest, eyes closing as you listen to the sound of his heartbeat. Erratic, just like him. The thought makes you smile, since you know that Seokjin has two sides. He has the fun-loving, erratic, carefree side, and he has the calm, mature and forgiving side. You’re not sure which one you prefer, but you have some time to figure that out now that the sight of his face doesn’t twist your stomach with hurt and fear,

“Stay the night. Making me dinner and watching bad chick flicks with me will make it better,” You tease, and Seokjin’s chest rumbles with laughter in response. Yes, you did lose your job today. Yes, you nearly lost Seokjin today. Yes, today was the worst you’ve had in a long time, but maybe that’s okay. All of that was simply the end of a chapter. You take Seokjin’s hand in yours and lead him inside, knowing that you now get to start a new one with him, and God are you excited for it.

“Seokjin! Seokjin, not there, I won’t be able to unpack it if it’s down here. Could you just take it up to the bedroom? It saves you making the trip later,” You instruct, setting down the lighter box of your own. Seokjin snorts, leaving the box where he put it on the table and making his way over to you,

“Love, you don’t need to worry so hard. Let’s just load everything out of the van before the driver gets too annoyed with us, and we’ll go from there. Does that sound okay?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. That confident smirk makes it’s way onto his face, and you hum in disapproval, “Now kiss me before I get moody,” He demands, and you roll your eyes before obliging, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him, lips moving lazily against each other’s. You’ve yet to figure out what kind of kiss is your favourite. The ones on a Sunday morning and Seokjin rolls on top of you, the ones when you’ve just gotten in from a long day and Seokjin senses your irritation, the ones when you’re both feeling needy, or the ones like this. An unhurried, leisurely pace as you fall in love all over again. All of them leave you breathless,

“I’ll be moody if you make me move that damn box upstairs later. Let’s go and get the rest of our stuff. I think the driver actually does hate us,” You tease. The driver of the moving van is a grumpy old trucker, who wouldn’t talk to you on the way over, simply grunting at Seokjin when he needed to. Not that you care all that much - nothing will ruin today for you, and that’s a promise.

There was a bit of an argument about whether you’d move in with Seokjin, or if he’d move in with you, but you ultimately reached a compromise. The two of you have been getting really good at that lately, letting go of your own pride in order to reach a decision with each other. It’s beautiful to be a part of, so when you’d finally suggested just getting a new place to move into - a bigger one, too - Seokjin had agreed gladly. That was 6 months ago, and today you’ve finally moving into your home together. It’s a beautiful, open plan, two bedroom dream, with a fireplace and a nice garden. Of course, there are some issues. The windows will need replacing, the chimney hasn’t been swept in years, a few walls will probably need to be rebuilt, the kitchen could use some work, the bathroom will probably need replacing altogether and the garden hasn’t been cared for in way too long (and many more things) but that’s part of it’s charm. And why you could afford it. It was cheap for what it is, considering the list of jobs needed to make it what you want, but that’s okay.

It’ll be your little project with Seokjin.

The two of you continue lifting boxes from the van to the house, starting to sweat a little under the midday sun, but neither of you care. You worked so hard to get this together, and neither of you would trade it for anything.

After the both of you lost your jobs, it was hard. You doubted whether your relationship would withstand it, but it did. You found an amazing opportunity, and Seokjin picked up teaching. He’s amazing at it, and you have to admit that you doubted him at first, given his hatred for rules, but he’s fantastic. He’s also a fan-favourite in the mum gossip groups, but you try not to mind too much. You know you’re the one who gets to take off that suit jacket at the end of the day anyway.

Your opportunity started a few weeks after you got fired. A small fashion company were looking for an experienced leader to guide them into something more than what they were, and you perfect for the job! It was similar to what you were doing before anyway, and you shone. They were a little more laid back than it was under Mr Price, and Seokjin hasn’t failed to notice that on most days you work, you don’t try to hide your choker. You’re proud to have it, because it ties you to the man you love most, and the company seems to love it because of your image - strong and confident, but still feminine and human. The company is doing well under your watchful eye, and even in just the 8 months that you’ve been with them, you’re starting to rival some of the other clothing companies that are big in your country. Mr Price is next on your hit list,

“So, this is it,” Seokjin breathes, hands on his hips as he looks around your new home, “This is all ours,” You smile, stretching your arms out with a groan,

“How about we break in the bed?” You tease, and Seokjin thinks you’re joking until he sees the look in your eyes. He smirks as he grabs your hips, pulling your body flush against his. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip hungrily,

“You’re insatiable,” He tells you, leaning down to press his lips to yours, gentle at first before getting too eager and having to deepen it, “I love it,”

Mr Price,

I am emailing you today in the hope that it will reach you in ill health. That’s right, I hope you have really bad diarrhoea. I am also emailing to inform you that you are a very sad sack of human parts that must not have a necklace because you’re so revolting. Yes, you did fire me and Y/N three years ago - three years ago yesterday, to be precise - but since then we’ve grown both as a couple and as people.

We’re now living together, and we’re about to get married. Funnily enough, firing us for being together (which we actually weren’t at the time) did wonders for our lives. Do you know what the best part of all of this is? Your company is about to go bankrupt because the love of my life is heading up your newest, fastest-growing, scariest rival. That’s right Pricey boy - suck it!

None of my love,

Kim Seokjin, fiancé to the CEO of your worst nightmare and best rival

P.S. If you try and sue me for this then not only will my future wife’s impressive legal team (and PR team) ruin you, I might just let slip to the authorities that your little company doesn’t make any exceptions to the relationship policy for necklaces. How do you think our boys in drab grey uniform would like that revelation?

#bts #bts seokjin #bts jin #bts angst #bts fluff #the necklace #guys i fixed it #its all in one part now #!!!#i am so happy with this #forbidden

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