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spectaclespencer · 4 years ago

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P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

��Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I��m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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writing-wh0re · 4 years ago

Note

Heyyy could I get some virgin!boyfriend!peter and virgin!girlfriend!reader, going down on each other for the first time and kinda discovering each other kinks like the reader likes being called a good girl and Peter loves having his hair pulled 🤪😩 sorry this is very specific lmaooo I trust u bby do whatever you want !!💜

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

Peter Parker x Female Reader

Words: 1,563.

Warnings: Smut18+, Vaginal Intercourse, Loss of Virginity, Unprotected Sex, Male and Female Performing Oral, Praise Kink, Hair Pulling, Handjob, Soft Peter.

A/n: I hope you enjoy this!

*I think I'm slowly finding it hard to write for Peter because yes, I love him but just not as excited when writing* - But I'll figure this out.

Spending the weekend with Peter was something I was looking forward to this whole week. Finally time to ourselves, time alone that I hope we will both take advantage of and take our love to the next step.

I reach Peter’s apartment, using my key to let myself in as a peaceful silence hits my ears. I sigh in relief, thankful that Ned and Betty were away for the weekend and had already left. I rush to Peter’s room, dumping my overnight bag on the hardwood floor before making my way into the ensuite bathroom, wanting to get out of my work clothes.

The lukewarm water hits my skin, allowing my eyes to flutter closed in pure bliss at the feeling of relaxation. My day washes off my skin, happy to be taking it slow for the first time in nine hours. I don’t hear Peter call my name or his footsteps as I wash my body, the smell of my mango soap filling the air.

“Ah, baby there you are.”

I jump at the sound of his voice, a small yelp escaping my lips causing the tall brunette to chuckle at me.

“Jesus.”

“Sorry, did I ruin your peace and quiet.” Peter opens the shower door, the cool gush of air causing goosebumps to liter my skin. His eyes trail up my body, a proud smirk dancing across his lips.

“As a matter of fact, you did, I was enjoying my ‘me’ time.” I lean against the cool shower wall, showing more of my body to Peter which causes him to bite his lip.

“Mind if I join you?”

My heart skips a beat as I softly nod watching my boyfriend slip out of his clothes, his toned chest and arms causing a flow of arousal to pool between my thighs. I quickly look away from the god-like sight, splashing my face with some water to calm myself down.

Peter’s lips brush against my shoulder, kissing his way up my neck. I giggle at his actions, his lips causing a tingle to rush over me, excitement bubbling inside my stomach.

“I missed you.” His warm breath fans cool air across my wet skin, a love drunk smile present on my lips.

I spin around to face him, droplets of water dripping from his hair onto his nose. “I missed you more, I’ve been counting down.” I instantly blush at the words that leave my lips, knowing I sound like a complete dork.

Peter smiles at me with love and adoration, his lips kissing my nose.

“You’re adorable.”

I stand on my tippy toes, my arms wrapping around his neck allowing for our lips to meet. Peter smiles into the kiss, pushing me against the wall as I gasp, the cool tile coming into contact with my ass. Peter grabs my thigh, encouraging me to wrap my leg around his waist, I use the new angle to pull him closer to me, a soft moan escaping both of us as his cock presses against my pussy.

“Sorry baby.” Peter pulls away from me, his face filling with regret. “You’re fucking addictive.” His eyes trail up my body.

I reach out to grab his hand, pulling me closer to me again.

“Please.” Peter rests his forehead against mine, his eyes searching mine. A wave of confidence takes over me as I trail my fingers down his chest, causing his breath to hitch. Peter’s hand cups my cheek, pulling our lips together before moaning into our kiss as I slowly pump his cock up and down. His hand wraps around mine, helping guide my actions to reach his release.

Peter’s hand leaves my face, cupping my heat earning a gasp from me.

“You’re so wet.”

Butterflies erupt inside of my stomach, excitement and nerves starting to take over my senses. Peter slips his middle finger past my folds, rubbing my clit slowly as all of the nervousness washes away, replaced by pure bliss.

Peter keeps his eyes trained on his fingers, ensuring to take everything slow, both of us moaning at each other's actions. My eyes fixate on his dick, loving the sounds I am pulling from him as I continue to pump up and down, circling my hand from the base to the tip which causes a string of curse words to leave his lips. I fall to my knees, looking up at Peter through my lashes, his face filled with surprise at my sudden actions. I swipe my tongue across the tip of his cock, taking his length into my mouth, bobbing my head up and down, his hand falling to the back of my head, guiding my mouth causing his hips to thurst.

“You’re good at that baby.”

“Such a good girl.”

His praise causes my clit to throb with arousal. I use my hand to cup his balls, massaging the skin as my tongue swirls around him, causing his head to tilt back and profanities to fall from his lips. I pull his cock from my lips with a pop, his strong arms pulling me up against his chest, our forehead's resting against eachother again. His finger slips back between my folds, circling my clit, my lips part with soft moans filling the air.

“I want you.”

Peter smiles at me before registering my words, causing his actions to halt.

“Please, I need you.”

Peter’s eyes search mine, looking for any doubt behind my words.

“Fuck me.”

Peter shuts the water off causing a sense of sadness to take over me.

‘Does he not want to have sex with me?’

Peter chuckles, sensing my emotions.

“I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good baby.” His words cause my breath to hitch and my heart to race. “But not in a shower, not for the first time.”

He laces our fingers together, guiding us to his queen bed, not bothering to grab a towel for either of us. I fall back onto Peter’s quilt, his body caging me against the mattress before locking our lips in a heated kiss, tongue and teeth hitting against each other, both of us excited for the next step in our relationship. Peter’s lips trail down my body, kissing and licking in between the valley of my breasts before his lips suck my thighs, littering the skin with his mark.

My fingers instantly grip onto the strands of Peter’s hair, his tongue slipping past my folds as my body tenses.

“Keep doing that.” I look down at Peter watching as his eyes flick to my fingers tangled in his hair.

His tongue goes back to circling my clit, his finger slowly slipping inside of me. A lazy smile fills my face, nothing but pleasure filling my body. Peter’s tongue causes my legs to shake, his fingers curling inside of me.

“Yes, Peter, yes.” I tug on his hair, attempting to pull him closer to my core, grinding my hips against his tongue. Peter moans against my clit, the slight vibration causing my mind to go fuzzy. My heartbeat slows, my breathing starts to become erratic as I feel the coil inside me tighten. Peter senses that I’m close, pulling away from me and earning a soft whimper.

“You’re cumming around me.”

I open and close my mouth, no words forming, another sense of nervousness settling around me.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this.”

I instantly shake my head, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of me.

“No, please, I want you so badly.”

Peter smiles at me, kissing my lips softly before lining himself up with my entrance.

“It will hurt, but only for a little, I need you to breathe for me and I’ll stop whenever you need.” I nod in response to Peter’s words, I hiss as his dick stretches my slick walls. Peter moans at the action, kissing my lips before whispering in my ear.

“You’re doing so well.”

“My gorgeous girl.”

“I love you so much Y/n.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of me, both of us moaning at the deeper angle.

“I love you Peter.” I whisper, rocking my hips up slightly. His hand falls to my hip, holding me still as he slowly thrusts in and out of me, building up a comfortable rhythm.

“Does that feel good baby?”

“So good, god Peter.”

“Such a good girl.” My pussy clenches around him as he praises me, a soft chuckle falling from his lips, knowing what he is doing to me.

“I-I’m cl-close.” Peter rubs my clit, the added pleasure causing my body to flush hot, my body tenses before I feel my release wash over me. Peter’s name falling from my lips, mixed with curse words.

“Fuck, Y/n, so good.”

Peter continues to rock in and out of me, my legs shaking at the sensitivity of my core. I watch his muscles tense, his fingers grip my hips tighter as a warmth fills me. Peter captures my lips in his before he slides out of me, his cum trickling out of my warm core.

“That was amazing.” I smile, my chest rises and falls, Peter’s the same as he pulls me into his side.

“I love you baby.”

“I love you so much Peter.”

It was safe to say, our weekend was spent like no other.

| | |

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wh6res · 4 years ago

Text

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person.

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve.

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun.

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings.

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll.

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections.

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to.

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail.

but you weren’t as lucky today.

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin.

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you.

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing.

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too.

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale.

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you.

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn.

she reminds you of yourself.

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck.

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job.

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again.

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you.

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine.

you look over your shoulder.

no one’s there.

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way.

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding.

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night.

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea.

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government.

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted.

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes.

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin.

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight.

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force.

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud.

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green.

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak.

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer.

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them.

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?”

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape.

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent.

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries?

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life.

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake.

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls.

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault.

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house.

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day.

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless.

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate.

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can.

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside.

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again.

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice.

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there.

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with.

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan.

you almost collapse against the brick wall.

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose.

until you saw who it was.

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday.

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try.

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma.

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down.

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times.

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left.

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes.

three times you’ve cheated death.

but time is up and your luck has run out.

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch.

naeun is nowhere to be seen.

good.

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare.

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience.

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it.

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket.

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances.

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper.

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you.

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder.

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you.

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings.

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you.

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke.

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone.

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath.

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase.

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium).

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin.

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them.

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory.

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball.

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @winwiniee @dundun-baby @nakamotocore @hcwurld @alaeddis @recs-for-later @jaehyunssslut

wanna be added to my taglist? click here!

‎

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renhyuck scenarios #renhyuck imagines #haechan imagines #renjun imagines #yandere haechan #yandere renjun #purge au #purge au nct dream #tw bullying #tw violence #tw purge au

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mcyt-imagines · 4 years ago

Note

hi! i’m like 80% sure requests are open but if they aren’t feel free to ignore this! i was wondering if i could get some fundy confessions? like a similar piece of writing to what you did with ranboo? which by the way was very good and your writing is super neat :]

I’m so glad you enjoyed the lil Ranboo confession hcs, I hope you enjoy these just as much! :)

Fundy Confession HCs

Realising he likes you

Fundy knows he’s crushing on you immediately. But he doesn’t understand how deeply he cares for you.

Fundy finds himself surprised when he doesn’t have to chase you, you actively pursue him as much as he pursues you.

Fundy usually doubts himself when he finds himself crushing on someone, unsure whether he should pursue them. But with you it’s different, your support makes him feel confident in his feelings.

Sometimes he feels as if he could never confess, scared he could ruin your friendship in case you don’t feel the same way. (Even though you very much do, he just thinks you deserve someone better too)

Fundy spends a lot of time contemplating his feelings for you, mostly in his head whilst the two of you are hanging out. He finds himself zoning out while you’re speaking, his eyes wandering between your vibrant eyes and your gesturing hands, landing somewhere in between, usually on your soft lips. However, if your back is turned to him, he will simply fixate on your hair, his hands desperately wishing to feel it. He knows that it's soft from the few times he’s fixed a stray lock of hair to a spot behind your ear. Basking in the pride he feels when your cheeks tint a soft pink, wondering whether it was real or just a cruel trick played by his imagination.

Fundy often finds himself thinking of you whilst streaming, he’s mentioned you a few times. Not enough to raise any questions about what your relationship with him is, just enough so his chat can try and appreciate you as much as he does when he allows his mind to wander mid-game.

Fundy finds himself slamming into an epiphany late one night when he realises that dating you isn’t about whether he thinks he deserves you but whether you do. And he hasn’t even given you the chance to answer, all this time he’s made the decision for you because he’s too scared of what your answer would be. He makes a promise to himself that night. That you deserve to make that decision yourself.

The Confession

Fundy knows that if he’s going to confess, he needs to make it extravagant and perfectly tailored to you.

This man plans out his confession to you for MONTHS, meticulously crafting props, making bookings, and trying his best to coordinate far away friends. Meanwhile, your friendship continues to strengthen with each night chatting until the both of you fall asleep in lone discord calls.

You know that Fundy has been busy with a project he refuses to tell you anything about, changing the subject with nervous stuttering whenever you bring it up.

You have let it keep you awake for a few nights before concluding that perhaps he finally managed to snag a partner and he was unsure how to tell you. So, the next time you meet up you make a note to drop some hints about knowing what his little project is. This freaks Fundy out instantly. How the hell did you figure it out? And you seem super okay with it? Was he wrong, do you actually feel the same way? Fundy’s head is spinning as you continue your casual conversation alone, “But don’t worry, I can wait. I only want you to tell me when you feel comfortable.” Your words snap Fundy out of his spiraling thoughts as your warm hand squeezes his knee and he forgets how to breathe.

Fundy spirals yet again that night after he gets home. You seemed okay with him liking you? But you didn’t confess either!? What does that even mean!? Fundy groans loudly before stuffing his pillow over his face, wishing that his love life could be easy.

He sets to work the next morning, finalizing all of his plans. When once again, he is struck by another epiphany. You wouldn’t want this. Some big extravagant show with the pressure of your mutual friends watching from the sidelines. You’d want something sweet and personal. That only you and he would understand, or even care about. He doesn’t bother cancelling the plans and bookings, instead of texting you to meet him at his place for dinner. If tonight works out the two of you can still experience the more extravagant side of his confession, but if this whole encounter goes sour it can go sour in private rather than public.

You arrive promptly, as you always do. Happy to spend time with him and perhaps seduce him you dress a little cuter than usual. Hoping he takes notice. He definitely does, and you can tell. The second he opens the door to reveal your frame he’s grinning, a light pink rests at the tips of his ears almost immediately. He is quick to greet you and lead you inside.

Fundy spent all afternoon regretting that he had sent that text to you. As he had to frantically run around the kitchen trying to come up with a meal to cook because there was absolutely no way, he was going to feed you takeout! Normally of course he wouldn’t have minded doing that, but not the day he plans to confess! That’d just be embarrassing. He spent a good thirty minutes deciding on the menu, thinking he’d do something Dutch to show off a little. And then he promptly realised that over half of the Dutch dishes he knew required no cooking but days of prep-work. Which took out a lot of what he knew how to cook.

So, by the time you arrived, he actually hadn’t finished cooking anything yet. And he was internally screaming as he heard your knock upon his door. So, to distract you he invited you into his room for some Minecraft. He repeatedly thanked his past self for furiously cleaning his room even though he originally had no plans for you to come in here.

As you play your eyes wander around Fundy’s room, allowing yourself to be distracted by his nerdy décor. “Creeper!” You scream as you’re brought back into reality as Fundy’s character jumps in between yours and the exploding mob. You gasp dramatically, “Fundy, my hero!” You pretend to swoon, grinning as he chuckles at your antics. “My shield is now practically broken.” He whines, “Take mine.” You drop it in front of him before moving your character back over to the iron ore you’d spotted in the cave earlier. He readjusts himself beside you, shimmying his shoulders as he mutters out a quick thanks. You lean against him softly, “No worries.”

It is at that inopportune moment that he remembers he had been cooking before you showed up. Thank god his oven had a safety feature to turn off after a certain amount of time. He ducks out for a few moments to quickly check on the mess of ingredients he’d chucked into a casserole to find it charred black. He repeatedly slams his head against his countertop as he began to enter both yours and his usual order of Chinese takeout into his phone. “You good with Chinese takeout?” He calls towards his room, wishing a hole in the ground would open and swallow him up pulling him straight down to the ninth circle of hell for his crimes against love. “Hell yeah, I am!” You respond with an enthusiasm that allows him to unclench his jaw and unfurrow his brows. God, you were definitely too good for him. Even as a friend.

Hours soar by with ease as the two of you play, trying your best to speedrun Minecraft and absolutely failing. Fundy does manage to make a nether portal pretty quickly using the lava pool strat. He allows himself to puff out his chest, pride swelling as you cheer him on with a grin. You don’t stop playing even when the takeout arrives continuing to communicate through mouthfuls of rice and complaints about trying to not get grease on your keyboards. Fundy cant remember that last time the two of you spent time like this just hanging out with no pressure from his stupid feelings and you absolutely glowing with joy beside him. He knows you need to do this more often.

“YES! FUNDY HIT HIM! AHH!” With one final blow, the dragon is slain and you finally beat Minecraft. You throw your arms around Fundy laughter bubbling from your lips, his arms grip you tightly pulling you close. His own laughter reverberates against his chest causing you to realise just how close he was holding you. You gulp down your rapidly growing nerves before looking up to meet his gaze, finding his face a lot closer to yours than you had expected. Fundy looks down at you as his cheeks burn a bright crimson and he tries to stutter out the words he’s been dying to tell you for the past six months.

And that’s when it hits you like a tonne of bricks. The bullshit he had been hiding this whole time wasn’t a partner, he wanted you to be his partner! Your mouth falls open in surprise for a few moments as Fundy continues to gape at you. “Holy shit Fundy.” That causes his gaze to snap to yours, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a firm line. “I thought you were hiding the fact you were with someone from me!” You laugh at your own absolute stupidity, hand coming to press high on Fundy’s chest. “Wait, what!?” The exasperated expression on his face only causes you to laugh harder, “Yeah, I thought that’s what you were being super cagey about. Sorry my bad, misjudged that one.”

Fundy finds himself chuckling too, his shoulders relaxing as he does so. “Yeah, a real good read love.” He laughs, your gaze rises at the pet name. “Real presumptuous of you Fundy, I haven’t even said if I feel the same yet.” Your teasing tone doesn’t even stop him as he pulls you even closer to him, pressing your body flush against his. “I think I can read you pretty well now. Not to mention you’ve been blushing this whole time.” He grins into your hair, squeezing you with an unbridled joy you find so contagious. Or perhaps you’re feeling that way because it turns out your crush isn’t actually dating someone else but instead likes you back?

“B-but like, just checking you actually do really like me-“ Fundy begins, feeling his nerves inevitably creep up his spine. Before he can even finish you cup the back of his neck with your free hand, the other clenching his shirt as you kiss him with all the intensity you can muster. “That answer your q-.” You begin to respond against his lips only from him to silence you, which maybe you deserved. Fundy can’t help but smile into the kiss. Somehow things actually turned out alright. Squeezing your warm soft hips, he ponders who the hell is looking out for him upstairs. But as your hands tangle in his hair, he makes a silent promise to himself he’ll consider praying to them tomorrow.

~Requests are always open!~

#fundy #fundy mcyt #fundy x reader #x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #confession headcanons #mcyt headcanons

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years ago

Text

Fake It... Till You Make It | Epilogue/Prologue

Fake It | The Masterlist

Warnings | 3.1k // 18+ SMUT , mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // This is the epilogue of Fake It and the Prologue to Till You make it. This should hopefully set up the story of Till You Make It perfectly; tying the two series together. If you haven’t yet read Fake It, the masterlist for the series is linked above for ease <333 Thank you to everyone who has supported this little adventure of mine <3

It had been two weeks since you'd left the house. Now living permanently with George in the house you were yet to fill with all the things that made it you. Lying in bed as your thoughts raced, taking you back to that pain over and over every time you shut your eyes. George had been perfect, he was there for you every night as you curled into his side, trying to push back all of the negative feelings as you sobbed into his chest.

Every time George looked at you, guilt washed over him. It wasn't just once but twice now that he was not there to protect you when you needed him the most, his childhood promise to you falling just short of the mark because he let you down. Part of him felt like a failure until he remembered that he was the one who helped you heal the first time and he would be the one to make you feel like yourself again this time.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I promised to and I let you down again."

"What do you think you're doing now, Silly? You protect me every day."

It killed George to see you as the shell of who you once were, seeing that vulnerable, glazed over gaze into nothingness once again. He knew that your healing would take time and that all you needed from him was his presence, his hold and his kisses. He didn't dare push you or bring anything up that was too much to handle - he simply cared for you as best he could. George however, did a fantastic job at juggling his time, between looking after you and taking full control of the shop while Fred healed too, he began to grow stressed. It was something you noticed in the way his back muscles tensed and in the way he walked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You pulled yourself from bed, knowing that he was due home soon, taking your initiative for the first time since the incident, to do something nice for him. You walked into your bathroom, putting the plug in the bathtub before beginning to fill it. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, seeing sunken eyes, dishevelled hair and a broken smile staring back at you - How could George continue to love you when you looked like this? Tears threatened to fall as your eyes welled up, you tried your best to hold them back but now you were choking back sobs as you stared at your reflection.

When George arrived home all he heard were cracking sobs and the sound of running water, he noticed you weren't in the bed and ran into the bathroom to see you hunched over the counter as you cried. He turned the tap off for you before standing behind you.

"Hey, hey… No tears, Princess, I'm here now." George had pulled you into his arms, your head buried in his chest as you continued to sob, your arms weakly hanging around his hips as you felt your heart squeeze again.

"I don't know how you could still love me when I look like this." You were looking up at him now, his eyes were warm and comforting as his hand ran up and down your back to soothe you. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead to comfort you as he spoke.

"Jesus, Y/N, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, you are my slice of heaven on earth and I'll love you every single day of my life." His hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear before leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. His kiss leaving you breathless. This was the first time that your kiss had been more than just a peck goodbye in what feels like forever. Being Intimate with George was a feeling that you both craved and missed but it wasn't something he wanted to push you into doing, not until you were ready to let him back in.

You had convinced George that you were ready to head back out into the world. It was a foreign feeling for the both of you as you walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley. You were proud to be holding on to him, finally able to tell everyone that you were his girl. The press had caught sight of you as you arrived together at the Joke shop, snapping away as you noticed that a new shop was opening on the street as people helped cart in huge boxes and beautiful ornate decorative items into the empty space. George caught your gaze and filled you in on the latest gossip among shop owners.

"It's a new dress Boutique, she's moved back down to London - Lee's friend… I can't remember her name but she was the Hufflepuff Prefect in our year, you know who I mean?" You nodded, looking over your shoulder to see the girl in question her hair pulled back by a piece of ribbon and you immediately remembered her.

"That shop has been vacant for ages, It'll be nice seeing a new business here." You responded, with a smile spreading across your lips, stopping the boy before he went to open the door, pulling him in for a kiss. The report on Cherry's death and the inquest into her fixation on ruining your life had hit the Daily Prophet the week prior - leaving you free to explore the more public aspects of your relationship with George. With there now being no worry about being caught or recognised, all you wanted to do was kiss your boyfriend out in the open, so you did.

You slowly got back into Quidditch, attending more practices and eventually friendly games. The papers, the fans and your team were all grateful to have you back, and frankly you were glad to be back. You used quidditch as a way of channelling your aggression and anger; you were at your peak performance and had absolutely smashed the record for the fastest snitch capture in history.

You had just sort of felt like maybe life was getting back to normal and you started visiting George's family home more often. You were sat in the burrow's kitchen with Molly, talking about the stupid things your boyfriend does, and as you found out, in fact has been doing since his childhood, as if his ears were hot, he came running in, smirk plastered on his face.

"Fancy joining us for a quidditch game?" You smiled at your boyfriend who was leaning with both hands on the table next to you. You reached up to place your hand on his jaw, thumb running over the apple of his cheek.

"Come on then, I want to be your team though Georgie." Your boyfriend blushed at your words and actions combined, even though you had been together for so long, the public aspect of being so openly affectionate with each other felt like new, bringing a whole new honeymoon period into your relationship once more.

The teams were simple. You, George and Fred on one team and Harry, Ginny and Ron on the other while Hermione and Lee watched on from the side-lines.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present; the golden snitch." George beams, holding it up for all to see.

"We only have teams of three, George, having a Seeker won't work." Ron chimed, only to receive a glare and elbow to the ribs from Ginny who nodded towards the snitch.

"Y/N and Gin are the seekers for today, no beaters just chasers and keepers." You smiled up at your boyfriend, who sent you a wink. Being able to catch the snitch should be a walk in the park for you, even after your months away from the game. The six person game was intense, Ginny did put up a fight for the snitch and you weren't even keeping track of the score. The moment your fingertips wrapped around the flitting snitch, you were flying back to the ground, Cheering as George joined you, picking you up and spinning around.

You hadn't even noticed the mechanical openings of the snitch until you looked back down at it in your hands. You noticed that inside lay a beautiful princess cut diamond ring, when you pulled it from the hold turning around to question George, he was already on one knee. You felt all of the butterflies in your stomach threaten to spill out, the feeling of being surrounded by your closest friends in that moment filled you with joy.

"Y/N, without you I wouldn't be half the man I am today. You have taught me to be strong, to push through when times are tough and more importantly you taught me how love feels - how it's scary and messy but pure. I've never known that I've wanted to do something so quickly as knowing that I wanted to marry you. This is my promise of forever to you, no matter what. So my love, will you marry me?"

You were nodding before the words ‘yes’ could leave your lips, his hands found the ring to slip it on your left ring finger, before smiling up at you. This was the most romantic way George could have proposed, doing something you love and in front of your closest friends and family. The way he kissed you after that was so full of passion and pure unmovable love that you weren't sure how you got so lucky.

When you arrived home that evening you truly felt the ache between your thighs for the man you would soon be calling your Husband. You practically jumped into his arms the minute you were in your shared home, legs wrapped around his hips and lips pressed firmly against his as your hands tangled into his hair. The fire of nearly seven years of love was roaring wild inside of you, the high of the engagement making you more confident than ever before.

"I'm ready, George." The simple words made any of his inhibitions melt away. He swore blind to you that he wouldn't even push intimacy until you were truly ready again. He was a gentleman about it, not even faltering when you pushed him away some months ago; too soon for you. He always made sure that when he kissed you that he didn't get carried away and kept it within himself to check and make sure you were comfortable.

It wasn't long until you were pressed between your comfortable sheets and your Fiancé's strong body. His hair hanging in his eyes, prompting you to run your fingers through his soft locks and push it out of his face before pulling him in for another kiss, mumbling small soft breaths of 'i love you' every time your lips parted. George took his time in undressing you, making sure that he kissed every inch of exposed skin as he explored the body he knew all too well. This was far from the sex with George that you had grown accustomed to; desperate and fast in fear of getting caught, but now with nobody to catch you or disturb you, you already felt in heaven.

George's lips travelled down your body, fingers tugging down your underwear in the process until his lips met where you craved them most. The second his tongue was lapping at your clit, pleasure rushed all through you, hand immediately finding his hair once again, only this time you gave it a tug. The way he hummed against your cunt as his tongue darted in and out of you had you on the edge of your release in minutes. His words of encouragement pushed you over, coming undone with just his tongue.

"That's it, good girl, I've got you." His fingers found your clit, circling over the sensitive bud as you came for him, your eyes were locked together as you reached to pull his shirt over his head, showing you his toned chest with a smirk. You were going to sit up and pull him free, but his hand on your shoulder held you to the bed.

"I won't break, George, I can touch you without breaking." He nodded, pulling himself down to kiss you again, your hands found his cock quickly, pulling him from the confines of his joggers without enough time for him to protest, your hand wrapping around his length as you used your hands to get him off. You pushed him up and off the bed so that he was standing before sinking to your knees before him. You took as much of him as you could, even down your throat as you gagged for him, knowing it's a sound that sets off something inside him. He was restraining himself from fucking your mouth like he loved to do and despite your eyes begging him to, he pulled himself away, pulling you up by the chin to press your lips together.

Being completely naked together with George didn’t happen often, but now as your two naked bodies were pressed skin to skin with each other, you had never felt more intimate. He had sheathed himself fully inside you, the tip of his cock pressed right to the back of you, each slow thrust had you moaning out long chants of his name. Your hands were interlaced and foreheads pressed together as he showed you just how much you meant to him; love pouring from every deep thrust as he fucked you slowly into the sheets. You didn't think he could get any deeper until you felt him in your stomach, reaching every intimate area.

"Can you feel how deep I am, Princess? Does it feel good?" you were nodding quickly, a moaning mess beneath him. The only words you managed to stutter out were his name and please, begging for more of him. You loved hearing him moan, hell, it was such a godly sound you were sure that you were the luckiest girl in the world to be able to hear them.

His hips hit a different angle, stretching you out perfectly as he filled you to the hilt once again, completely bottomed out as your thrust met each others. You weren't sure how many times he'd made you cum but you were ready to release for him all over again. Your lips found his ear, pressing delicate kisses to the lobe as you begged him, moaning breathlessly into his ear.

"Please George, I need it." Your hands were guiding his to press against your throat, he gulped, unsure if you were ready but when he met your pleading eyes, he gave in, his deep sloppy thrusts turned to a quick, needy fuck like you were both used to. Leaving you a moaning mess for him as he fucked you senseless into your sheets, until you were squeezing around him and your nails were raking down his back. George would give you everything you wanted if you gave him the opportunity. You felt another orgasm build from the way his hand alone would control your breathing, let alone how deep he was hitting with every quick thrust.

"You want me to fuck a baby into you, Princess?" his gentle words sent you over the edge as you felt him twitching inside of you. He didn't care that you were on birth control, it was the notion of releasing his load deep inside you alone that made his heart swell. His persuasive words had you begging for it, you needed him to cum.

You were both breathing heavily as you lay side by side, your head on his chest as you studied the rise and fall, tracing circles on the exposed skin when you noticed the shiny diamond gleaming on your finger; a smile immediately finding your lips. Solace found you in that moment, there was no more hiding the love that you had with George, no more faking a love you didn’t feel with Fred, no Cherry - finally happy in a moment shared between you and the man you loved. Your Forever.

Fred through all this time had been watching George plan the proposal from the background, painting a fake smile across his face for every social appearance. The older twin did a brilliant job at convincing everyone around him that he was fine, simply shaken up by the trial, but nevertheless fine. Every day he would wake up with salty tears dried to his cheeks, his throat dry and hoarse, trying his best to smile and get on with his day. Fred has been consumed to a shell of who he used to be, with nobody to help him deal with his emotions.

Every now and again he’d show up at the burrow, his mother taking him into her arms as he choked down tears. He felt like a child that couldn’t be consoled, not even a hug or the greatest food could fill the hole in his heart he felt watching the woman he loved be proposed to by his twin brother; to see you so infatuated with one another that every touch and look he would observe tugged at his heart strings, the pain only becoming less and less severe as he dove into a pit of his own despair.

Nobody had seen the older twin in weeks; therapy sessions missed, calls and messages went nowhere, George would come up to check on him every day after the store closed, he noticed things would go untouched for days on end as he locked himself in his room. Behind the door Fred would be curled up under the covers, realising what he’d done couldn’t ever leave him. He had killed Cherry and she was no longer here, so why did she still continue to plague his every thought?

“Freddie nobody has seen you since we went to mum’s, I- we’re worried.” George was pleading with his brother from behind the door, he heard the hurt in his twin’s voice and immediately felt as if he had let his family down, that sinking feeling in his heart growing stronger.

“It’s Mine and Y/N’s engagement party this weekend, you don’t have to come but… It’ll be good to see you Fred. I miss you, Lee misses you, Y/N misses you. We all do. Just think about it.” Fred heard his brother’s footsteps grow quieter and the front door slam shut. The word engagement singed his heart, like whatever cord was wrapped around the organ had been pulled tighter. He knew that If he didn’t go he would be missing a massive part of George’s life and that feeling hurt him way more than any broken heart could. He was going, even if it broke his heart.

taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @pansydaisy @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn @pigwidgexn @mackaywhore @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana @starkidpotty @mollydarling-hphm @amwithers2001 @mrmoonyy @asthmax

#Fake It Fic #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley #gred and forge #fred and george #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter writing #harry potter smut #ginger hair

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carlosxhook · 5 years ago

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The Law Of Total Madness ~ H.H

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader (yes I wrote Got7 into this sue me) + (please don’t I’m broke 🤦‍♀️)

Y/N’s P.O.V

Being Chad Charming’s twin sister was an interesting occurrence, Ben being your best friend for your whole life and growing up around Chad expectation of the perfect sister was exhausting this was where you found your love for singing and dancing thanks to Ben. He also introduced you to your other best friend prince Yugyeom originally from Jypnation and 6 other his friends who made music together the 8 of you were always glued together, you stuck together and turns out it was good for you to get away from Chad he may of been your brother and yes you loved him but god was he unbearable! Even better the 8 of you talk in korean to confuse anyone trying to ease drop Princess love to be some nosey bitches, you were a hip hop dancing, princess role breaking rebellious free soul and Chad HATED that. Perhaps the icing on the cake was that you were secretly dating a Scottish pirate, the only son of Captain Hook, the love of your life Harry Hook. It happened when you and Ben were kidnapped with Ben after convincing him you should go with him for “protection” when really you just wanted to wag chemistry class they kept you and Ben seperate and you and Harry ended up in a long make out session about 15 minutes before the most epic battle you’d ever witnessed, Ben announced that after 6 months since Dizzy, The Twins and Celia came to auradon that 3 more vks would be coming over! Hoping it would be Harry, Uma and Gil you talked to Gil while ‘kidnapped’ you two were close it was nice he seemed genuinely like a good guy, it was nice that he’s loyal to his crew and today was the day they were to arrive. Ben, Chad, Mal, Carlos, Jay, Evie, Doug and I were all gathered around waiting for them to show them around and such, the limo pulls up and all three vks get out my chest gets tight thinking about seeing him again yeah we starting “being a thing” very quickly but I liked him a lot I knew that much “Welcome to Auradon” Ben smiles “Try not to break anything” Chad snarls and I smack him over the head earning a deep chuckle from Harry as he smirks at me “it’s very colourful here” Gil smiles he’s too pure omg “well I would love too stay and help but I promised NaNa I’d be at practice 10 minutes ago, it was lovely too see you all again.” I wave before running off towards the school dance hall and quickly issuing magic to get changed into a red crop top and some high waisted black shorts with black converse, damn I was too cute for my own good sometimes, poor Chad never got any magic my parents had me enchanted when I was little so I could protect myself.

Harry’s P.O.V

“I apologise for Princess Y/N’s departure she’s preparing for a very important event and competition as a representative for Auradon, if any of you need her she’s typically in the dance hall!” Ben hints looking towards me it’s not like her and I were seriously anyways, yeah I liked her, a lot but I’d barely say I thought about her. That’s a lie everyday that stupidly gorgeous girl plagued my mind and she just runs off before I can have her in my arms again, how selfish? Does she even still care about me, about us, we had a connection fuck I knew feelings and l..l...lov that l word made you weak, how pathetic I thought I had a happily ever after.

We go through the entire of auadorn and finally reach the Dance Hall we hear loud music coming from within and I peek in seeing Y/N practicing “let’s watch!” Ben opens the door and we stand at the back my eyes fixated on the gorgeous girl dancing her heart out, “she’s gonna win” Chad laughs at Gils proud statement “please who does she think she is this isn’t the isle she should be in a castle or locked in a tower” Chad snorts “I’m sorry say that again Princey” I growl “cool it” I hear Uma whisper “you wanna get found out huh” she follows. “He’s an ass” I mutter focusing back on the events in front of me Y/N walking towards us with a big smile “what did you think?” She asks as her sparkling eyes meet mine before Chad can even open his mouth I reply “Ye did very good indeed” winking at the now blushing princess “anyways” she chirps “we need 3 more female dancers to back up Yugyeom and I’s duo for the competition, because as much as I’d love too see Jackson, Mark and BamBam in skirts with wigs and heels... I don’t wanna frighten the audience” she giggles looking behind her at the 7 boys now making their way over once they reach us the throw Y/N a questioning look before speaking in what I can only assume in another fucking language.

Y/N’s P.O.V

I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss Harry I did and as much as I wanted to run into his arms and breathe in his scent and glory I know I can’t, I lean over to Uma to get closer to Harry “Hey Uma, I don’t know if ben told you but we are sharing a room, I’m barely ever in my dorm so don’t worry I won’t bother you!” I smile and she just scoffs she’s not the biggest fan of me I mean she did kidnap Ben and I after all, I couldn’t blame her though the Isle was shocking I would wanna get out too I am kinda thankful cause of it I found Harry. That was if he still even liked me, I heard from Mal he’s a player and no good that he flirted with anything that moved I mean one of the old exchange students Nana did that too, and he was harmless I was just hoping Harry’s flirting was too.

“Yugyeom, can we finish I wanna show em to the dorms?” I smile to the fluffy haired boy sweat dripping down his white shirt making it slightly see through “only this once ya, usually I’m the one to try cut practice shorty” he laughs “sweet, don’t forget we go all day tomorrow with the boys!” I point to our 6 other friends and wave shooting them a wink before turning around seeing everyone but the pirates had left “well I’ll shall show you to your rooms I guess” I lead the way to the dorms it’s a bit awkward and the silence burns.

“So Y/N” Gil cuts the air “what’s this competition?” He smiles coming and placing an arm around me I hear Harry growl but I just let Gil rest his arm on me “well it’s a multi-kingdom performance competition, we must sing and dance and the winner’s kingdom hosts a massive party and a heap of important musical performers come for all necks of the woods too play and come watch!” I smile getting excited just thinking about it “Yugyeom and I have a duo, I have a solo and so does he, then a boy group performance and then a girl group performance if we win 3/5 of the categories Auradon will host its first ever K fest, it’ll be amazing!” I stop abruptly “our duo performance is gonna be the best we’ve ever done, and we’ve done a lot” I chuckle “anyways this is the boys dorm 701 Gil and Harry are here and then just down the all at 690 is where Uma will be if y’all need her. Your belongings will be inside for you if you need anything please don’t hesitate to ask” I turn around and walk to my room Uma in tow “so Y/N, been a while huh?” She laughs “indeed it has, how’re you feeling about all this?” I ask pointing around “it’s where I’ve always wanted to get my crew, I got Gil and Harry here, now I need to work on the rest” I see a glint of sadness in her eyes “I’m only really here because I care about those boys and they don’t deserve to rot on an island, yeah they’re dicks and trouble but they’re loyal to me so I am loyal to them, they fight for me so I fight for them. Always!” I was shocked Uma was really caring I didn’t expect this side of her “I’m only telling you this because I know you and Harry are a thing” she pays my back “wait we still are?” I ask hopeful “yeah, the moment he gets you alone he’ll be all over you like a hungry wolf, watch ya back” she laughs I take a deep breath “thank you Uma I wasn’t sure he even still knew me” I lay on my bed and my stomach grubmles “girl you’re so busy dancing you don’t eat” Uma scolds “come on” she grads my hand “were getting you some food!” Running out the door she takes me too the kitchen and starts making food “I used to have make chips all the time at the shop, so hopefully Auradon sir makes them taste better than the grubby isle ones” she scoffs “Uma, can I ask something?” I nervously fiddle “sure princess what’s up?” She says cutting up potatos “Did Harry’s father ever abuse him?” She seems taken aback “it’s just I remember telling Harry I’d stay behind he just had to pretend he had me at sword point, and he said he’d never even pretend to do such a thing because he wasn’t his father.” I wipe a few tears I was confused was Harry harmful “Harry gets his father’s temper or therefore lack of, he had outbursts, I’m sure he’ll still have them, yes to put it shortly his father before he was in the crew would often abuse him. But it wasn’t uncommon, not in the isle love is a weakness.” “Then am I weak for loving him no matter what Uma” why was I even opening up to her “no because I think you could be good for him, just don’t turn him” she jokes “or I’ll use this” she holds her shell out “yes captain!” We laugh. “Maybe finally having a roommate won’t be so bad aye” I smile as she cooks Uma might actually be a really great friend and she knows more about Harry than anyone else maybe Hook and I could work.

*The Next Day*

“Those boys I swear are always late” I mutter to no one in particular “now what’s a gorgeous girl like you doing standing ‘ere all alone?” My heart jumps hearing his voice again “Hi Harry” I turn around smiling “ye know isle got boring without a princess to kiss” she smirks “is that so, awe Harry did you miss me” I joke about he moves closer “believe me or not love, I actually did. Let’s say you left a bit of a mark on me so to speak” I giggle “now come here babe” I pull him in for a long and heated kiss “Lovely doing business with ye princess” he smirks spinning around and walking out. What the actual fuck was that, what is he playing at I’m not just some toy, I turn on the music and start dancing to Bonnie & Clyde by Dean nothing can distract me not even Harry.

Harry’s P.O.V

I fucked it up I panicked and played fuck boy player again the confident fascade is what I’m know by I must keep it up, show no emotion, no weakness. Sorry princess. It’s just how I am.

I walk to uma’s room and knock on the door “yeah what” I hear her shout “it’s me” and like that the door flies open “Where’s Gil?” She questions “running round with Jay apparently they’re besties or whatever I’m just letting the dog loose” I plop myself down on the princess’ bed “geez Auradon beds are comfy” I sigh “I don’t think your little girlfriend would appreciate your smelly leather and metal scent over her sheets” Uma jokes “not me girlfriend” I point out “I’d watch it if I were you then, she gushed on about that Yugyeom boy for a very long time, of she ain’t yours surely she’ll be his I mean they’re never not together.” As if on cue in walks Y/N “Hey Uma did you see where I put my tablets, the ones with the orange jar, I’ve got a massive headache.” She rubs her head still unaware I’m laying on her bed “yeah left hand side of the bathroom counter top” she smiles did I miss something what are they all of a sudden so... friendly...

“Thank you so much oh and by the way I’ll be back late tonight so don’t wait up I’ll sneak in, Yugyeom and I have to rehearse til late cause Ben wants to come watch us and make sure it’s all good” I watch as she leaves then I close my eyes and drift off too sleep surprisingly.

“Harry wake up omg” I hear as I open my eyes too see Uma standing above me “what?” I ask rubbing me eyes then picking up me hook “get off of Y/N’s bed and wake up she’s gonna be here soon” she scoffs “surely she wouldn’t mind a handsome looking lad in her bed waiting for ‘er” I laugh.

Y/N’s P.O.V

“Ben I don’t really understand?” I question “you want us... to kiss?” I point between Yugyeom and I “yes the chemistry is there I’m telling you it’s the winning touch, the performance is so dynamic it just needs the big ending, it’ll leave everyone shocked, stunned and more importantly it shows how well you work together.” The king smiles “are you sure this is a good idea?” He’s gone crazy completely mad oh this is not going to end well “let’s call it a day you two need to eat and back again tomorrow for more practice” Ben smiles holding the door open for us both, “he’s not serious right Y/N” Yugyeom whispers “I hope he’s not, but something tells me he is, it’s fine gyu we are the best this is nothing!” I smile placing a hand on his shoulder “what about that boy?” He asks in a small voice “we aren’t dating he made that very clear, who cares this is our dream we are so close!” I smile side hugging him and briefly laying my head on his “fighting!!” I smile before grabbing his hand and walking to my dorm he always walks me to the door of my room when we practice late “Thanks Yugyeom!” I smile “let’s work hard tomorrow!” I hug him really tightly saying goodbye and open the door to find Uma working on something and Harry asleep on my bed “I don’t remember ordering a strange man in my bed, Uma I think this ones for you.” I point to the pirate passed out on my bed “he’s been like that for hours, I don’t think he’s sleeping at night” Uma shrugs “I’ll be back I have to go try round up Gil watch the scot” I laugh before going to change clothes in the bathroom I walk out no more than 10 minutes later and he’s still there snoring away. “Harry I told you if you were struggling to come find me” I play with his hair and carefully remove the hook placing it right next to my bed I grab the spare blanket from the cupboard and put it over him and when I go to walk away I hear “Please, just stay with me love” he says almost way too soft “I’ll explain later just please” I notice he’s shaking must be nightmares or ptsd “it’s okay Harry I’m right here, I’m always gonna be okay” I smile placing a soft kiss on his forehead and jumping into the free slither of bed he’s left much for my surprise he moves and pulls me close with his arm around my stomach before I know it I’m fast asleep.

Harry’s P.O.V

I woke up and there she was in my arms and it felt right, it felt like nothing could ruin this moment until once again I panicked I’m not used to feeling this I grab my hook and leave her all alone, pangs if guilt hit me but I ignore them I’m a pirate the best one I don’t need feelings they make you weak and I will never be weak. I will make my father proud he will call me his son and I’ll finally have a family, I don’t need some stupid princess to distract me.

Y/N’s P.O.V

I woke up alone in my bed with nothing left but the memory and slight scent of metal and the ocean, or was it leather? Doesn’t matter now he used me again and I let him, I need to watch myself no distractions that would discredit all of Yugyeom and I’d hard work I’m letting Harry ruin this for me. That being said another day another practice T-minus 1 week until we gotta rock this competition he’s obviously gotta work himself else I ain’t here for his amusement ugh, today there’s a big school meeting where we perform some songs as a taster for the school and our sister school (team) Ateez High are sending over their recruits to perform, I can’t wait we have had these prepared forever so we got this in the bag.

{Might do a series on this one, kinda proud my first imagine for Harry Hook x Y/N reader I had to add something kpop okay just bear with me! Got a few requests so I’ll be getting right into them⚡️🤍}

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infernalshadowtheif · 4 years ago

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Synthetic Blood

After taking over her father's company, Lena Luthor spends her time trying to develop a safe man made synthetic blood for medical science and maybe for herself and her kind too of course. You see, Lena is technically human but she is also technically a vampire, well more of a half vampire that's more or less human except for her extra abilities and vitality. As she tries to develop a Blood substitute her brother Lex attempts to steer her away from the light and back down a dark path that has always beckoned her to walk down.

[Look, vampires are kinda cool and I've been meaning to finish this idea that I literally dreamed about last year so let me know if you guys like it, hate it, or have ideas for it yeah? I'll post it on Ao3 later.] Words: 3,036K 🙃

Lillian took the cold metal brush handle in her hand, making it up to her hair, and started to brush through the already smooth tresses of hair on Lena's head.

"On to more pressing matters, it seems we won't be hunting for a while, seeing that the humans are now more aware of our kind since your brother started his little war with the Kryptonians." The aimless brushing continued a bit rougher than before but not painful.

"How are we to feed then mother, how are you going to feed? I am obviously already prepared but I know you prefer straight from the source." There was a slight hesitation in the last stroke of the cold brush.

Lillian set it down slowly almost methodically as she turned away and towards the moonlit window behind them.

Lena looked after the older woman cautiously.

"Mother?" Wearily she stood from the vanity mirror and closer to Lillian’s side.

She received a click of a tongue as an answer before she sighed.

"I hated how it reeked on his body, your father I mean, I hated how the smell of artificial blood was always stuck to him, it reminded me of that awful white meat substitute that some humans love in place of real meat."

"Tofu mother," Lena added helpfully as Lillian sneered further at the window and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

"Yes, that was it. He always smelled of his fake blood, you already adopted his tendencies to not want to drink from the source of what we need to survive, which is fine but I’ll never understand it." She turned her head to Lena almost puzzled.

“Well mother I know that this situation will be harder but I’ll try and figure something out for us. I'm sure I can maybe synthesize something more to your preferences if need be."

Lillian wasn't the warmest parent compared to most others but after Lex went on with his blood-war with the aliens, she saw that Lena was more stable than she originally thought, especially compared to her son. So through great effort and shattered pride, she tried her best to bridge the gap between her and her daughter as best as she could, trying to make up for years of neglect and misplaced scorn.

With a defeated sigh Lillian finally turned to look at her youngest,

"Thank you, dear, I know you'll try no matter how many times I say I'll be fine. I just want you to use that brilliant brain of yours for more than just little old me, I'm content with the choices and endless amount of repenting I have waiting for me when it's time." Lillian never smiled at Lena, at least not often, especially as a child, but the one she gave her at that moment was the best one she'd ever seen.

“I think we all do mother. Thank you for taking care of me and letting me wait out the sun for today, I lost track of time again.” Lena lightly skims her thumb over the still healing blemish on her arm, if she were a full vampire like the rest of the Luthors in her family she would have lost it or simply turned to dust as her father did.

“Any time dear, this is still your home too, no matter what your brother claims.”

Lena almost cries, such simple words that her past self would have never dreamed of hearing from the woman before her, Lena simply nods in acknowledgment and heads back out to her car to get back to her apartment.

The drive back to National City is quiet, the long highway back lets her mind playback the hellish day she had, to say she’s dreading the minute she has to see the cities resident Super would be an understatement.

She saw me, I know she saw what I’m capable of. Or at least that I'm definitely NOT human.

Lena’s thoughts turn darker as she imagines the red-caped hero’s look of repulsion and utter hate when she does truly figure out that she’s a creature of the dark, or, at least half of one.

Her mind spirals further down the dark hole of fear of what she will do with her, so much so that she missed the new set of headlights quickly coming closer in her side-view mirror.

When it finally caught enough to slam into her back bumper she quickly snaps out of it and tries to keep her own car on the road and away from the sheer drop of the mountainside to her right.

“Fuck! Now, what!?” The vehicle sways again as the car behind her clashes into hers, she took one of her more pedestrian cars today so her usual horsepower she’d use to escape is severely lacking this time as another hit on her life is in motion again this week.

So much for going incognito.

The shattering of her rear window makes her jump, the side of her car slamming right into the metal railing, seeing the lack of ground on the other side has her heart drop right into her stomach as she tries to get control again.

Big nope to that.

Another pop was registered in Lena’s brain as she finally lost control of her car, her vision spinning just as quickly as the car itself.

“Fuckfuckfuck! I swear, I'm going to stake you myself when I deal with your pets, Lex!” Sweating out of panic, Lena decides that trying to outspeed them won’t happen while in her brick ford car, she figures that she just might have to use some of her power for this one.

Her car makes a sudden stop as the front end crashes through the metal railing at the edge of the road, she was lucky the car became wedged into the twisted metal otherwise she would have had a very unfortunate freefall over the cliff.

Dizzyingly, Lena pries her hands from the steering wheel, her death grip making her bones ache as she tried for her seatbelt next. The sound of car doors slamming shut jumpstarts her heartrate, flooding her system with adrenaline.

The shadows in the headlights get closer, the sound of a gun reloading, four sets of boots crunching on gravel as they round her car on both sides.

She is actually scared now, her right shoulder twinges painfully as she tries to rip out the buckle of her seatbelt, “Ah, shit.” They actually hit her it seems, her white blouse is starting to bleed red down her arm the more she struggles on the belt.

A balding man crouches down into her window, his eyes are glazed over, his face is twisted into a sickening grin. “Hello halfy,” He sneers. “Your big brother wanted us to check in on you this fine night, he was deathly worried for your health as of late.”

His gaze snaps to her bloody shoulder fixated on it for a second or so as he takes a deep breath of warm fresh blood, his dull eyes start to pool red as he takes another lung full of bloody air.

Lena shudders in disgust tilting her face away from his, he reeks of death and rot, ghouls were her least favorite creature that her brother had in his employ.

“Enjoying ourselves are we?” She mutters as his eyes roll open again.

He hums in delight. “He did say your blood was more or less mortal, it's almost humanly sweet.” his smile widens, some kind of old meat seemingly stuck in his teeth and gums as he appraises the state of her and her battered car. “Shame you didn't drive your nicer car, we could have stripped it for parts, but ah, oh well. We’re only here for you tonight then sadly.”

A creaking noise shook the car as he ripped her driver’s door clean off its hinges, Lenas heightened smell was shocked by a wall of death the bald man oozed when he leaned in to free her of her seatbelt and dragged her out of the car by the scruff of her blouse.

Still dazed and newly freed from the metal deathtrap, Lena saw this as her last chance to try and escape from her brother’s lackeys. “I may smell human but by no means does that mean that I’m weak like one.” Latching onto the ghoul’s arm with shaking hands, Lena uses his own weight to counterbalance them both into the loose dirt and flipped herself over again to grab for his throat. She hates to use it but her power has to be used now before what little blood she does drink wears off and leaves her completely defenseless, she’ll have to kill him quickly.

His body starts to convulse as she uses her hand to tear into his fragile throat, black rotten blood oozing over her fingers as his body finally stops thrashing about. She’s still aware of the three heartbeats of the other goons as she finally stands up, her glowing eyes lock onto a man with mousy brown hair, his own eyes are terrified. They all are.

These ones are all human, two are just boys compared to her own age, and they’re all frozen stock still like rabbits to a fox.

Lena is shaking, she doesn’t kill humans, she won’t stoop to her brother’s level. “Leave, go home and forget about this whole night, I don't want to kill any of you. This man was not human, he likely would have eaten you all after my death so take this as an act of mercy. Please.”

The youngest is seems to want no part so he tossed down his weapon and dragged the other two back to their vehicle, the older ones still frozen and staring at the rapidly decaying body of the now-dead ghoul. “Let’s get the hell out of here guys!”

The car ripped out and back onto the highway leaving a wobbly and drained Lena in the dust, “Ugh!” She shrieks in anger as she kicks the rotten body in her rage.

Before she can take out more of her frustration on the dead ghoul she hears a familiar chime of her phone’s ringtone, or more specifically, Karas ringtone.

“Shit. Movie night, I was supposed to be at Karas tonight.” Grumbling as she whipped her bloody hand on her jeans, she bent over to pick up her cracked phone to answer her friend.

“Lena?” Lena sighed, “Hi Kara, I'm sorry for not calling you back, I seem to have run into some car trouble on my way to yours.” Glancing over to her clearly totaled car she winced at the sight of it, “Well more like it's completely totaled now.”

On Karas’s end of the line, she heard a crash and rushing of footsteps, “Ohmygosh! Are you okay Lena?? Where are you, I can come to get you or send my friend to help? Please tell me you’re okay..”

The brunette felt her eyes well up with tears, she really didn't deserve this human known as Kara Danvers, she really didn't.

“I'm off of creek falls and the main highway near the cliff drop, I'm no worse for wear sort of, I'm standing on my own two feet at the moment so I’d say ok, for now anyway, I definitely need a shower and a lot of sleep after this though.” Lena tried to joke but didn't hear Kara anymore, just a rush of air against the microphone.

Confused Lena checks the line, “Kara? Are you still there?”

“Y-yeah Lena I'm still here, um, please don't be mad." Now that made Lena pause. "What? Why would I be mad at you?"

The wind in the earpiece lighted up a bit, "I'm almost there, I'm picking you up, I called Alex she'll be on her way too okay? Was there another car involved or an animal run across the road?" Panic gripped at Lena, Kara can't see this mess! Let alone the rotting ghoul body at her feet, she wouldn't understand!

"Kara, wait, it’s alright I already called the authorities and everything, it'll take a bit but I'm fine right now, also don't drive while on the phone! I don't want to be the cause of yet another accident tonight." Lena hear Kara scoff into the phone, "Thank you for the concern, but I'm definitely not driving, I don't even have a permit." She chuckled at her own expense.

Another pause.

"I'll be fine, just promise not to be mad when you see me? Yelling is fine but don't hate me, please." Anxiety wasn't a common thing for Lena but right now she can feel it clawing up her throat and she swallowed down her guilt of having her sweet fragile Kara seeing what her own monstrous hands are capable of.

She trusts Kara with her life, she'll have to trust her with her dark secret now. "Only if you promise me the same, it’s a mess over here and I'm certain that it'll be horrific for you to see why."

Kara hummed in thought for a second, "Well duh, I could never hate you Lena, or any other bad emotion towards you really." She said carefully like if she said it louder Lena wouldn't believe her.

"Ah wait, I think I see you? Oh." Kara whispered then the line went dead.

Lena was sitting hunched against her busted car, looking around confused at the lack of vehicle, Kara nowhere in sight. Letting out a ragged breath Lena let her head fall back with her eyes closed, praying that Kara would listen to her explain the scene before her.

The brunette’s eyes snapped open when she felt a warm hand on her good shoulder, to say she almost shit a brick would be putting it very lightly because right before her was Supergirl, but in Kara Danvers' sweats, T-shirt, and a very red cape with no socks or shoes to top it all off. Being shocked would be a very light word for how Lena is at that moment.

Super- uh, Kara is pretty much herself while she looks Lena over, making soft cooing noises as she checks over each scrape and bruise, she all but balls her eyes out when she shifts Lena's shirt to check the gunshot wound.

"Lena, Rao, I should have listened further out for you, if I was listening I could have stopped this." Lena was a bit slow to process her words but she quickly bounced back and stupidly asked, “Kara? You’re not human?” Kara stilled her hands, “Yeah. I'm sorry I kept it from you ‘till now, I just could never find the right moment to tell you. I was going to try again tonight if that’s worth anything.”

Kara did look nervous, wary that Lena was angry about her lying for so long, but instead of being angry Lena just full body laughed at their predicament.

As light tears started to form in Lena's eyes Kara nervously held the brunette's hand. "Lena? I don't know if laughing should make me feel nervous or happy right now."

Lena chuckled a couple more times and pulled the blonde into a relieved hug. "I've been an idiot, I've been trying to bring up the fact that I'm not human either for the past year Kara, so right now I think it's a bit ridiculous that you've been worrying about the same thing." Lena definitely didn't miss the full bodied twitch Kara did after hearing her say this, she understood though, Lena is technically human but only partially. It was briefly a one sided embrace until Kara hugged her back with almost all her strength, leaving Lena only mildly squished but overall content.

Their little bubble was immediately burst when a black SUV pulled up to blind the two of them, a bedraggled Alex dressed in her own pajamas and combat boots holding a shovel, "Kara. Tell me why did you text me 911 please bring a shovel! At 1 am Kara- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT??"

Alex is out of her car and right by Kara's side almost instantly when the once thought to be dead ghoul flips onto its side to drag its to Lena, grossly gurgling its black blood as it crawls over to the trio.

"That would be what's left of my brother's newest hit and sent to check in on me. He's a ghoul so I probably should have made sure to take the whole head off inside of ripping her throat out." Lena extracts herself from an equally shocked Kara and tugs the shovel out of Alex's limp fingers, "Please pardon me, I'll give it right back."

Alex looks at her dumbfounded, Lena shrugs as she turns back to the ghoul clearly annoyed beyond belief. "I would say have a nice trip given that you're going straight to hell but I really don't appreciate what you did to my car, " she glances over at the once upon a time pristine white paint job and cringes at the many bullet holes and scratches.

"Actually I'm more pissed that I had to meet you at all, so, bye now."

She raised the shovel as high as she could with her good arm and swung down with all of her might, the ghoul let out one last hiss as the head fell from his body.

Exhausted Lena looks back at the gawking Danvers sisters, "Help me clean this up and I'll get you both whatever food you want and could eat for a month?" She was almost certain Alex was going to shoot her up until that offer was in play, both sisters bolted up and came over to help.

"You're also going to fill us in about whatever the hell that thing was and why he worked for your brother." Alex stated as she waved her hand in Lena's direction in an almost protective voice.

"And about the not human thing." Kara mumbled as she grabbed the creatures legs over to the deepening hold Alex was currently working on.

With a big sigh of relief Lena nodded, vowing to answer whatever her two friends asked her.

"Deal."

28 notes · View notes

hyunllx · 4 years ago

Text

The Christmas Baker

A Hyunlix Hallmark Fic Chapter 4/5 wc: 3.5k

Hwang Hyunjin is a rich, cocky, famous dancer that prefers to keep to himself during the holidays. When his roommate drags him along to visit his hometown, however, Hyunjin meets a boy who helps him believe in the spirit of the season. Primarily Hyunjin’s pov with Felix’s pov added in occasionally. series warnings: Extremely cliche. You will probably cringe at some points but its okay. chapter warnings: Hospitals/doctors, very brief description of injury, POV depiction of vertigo note: This fic is not meant to accurately reflect or portray the members of SKZ. This is just for fun.

Read the last chapter here

|-------------------- Hyunjin --------------------|

Hyunjin couldn’t remember how to breathe.

It’s Lix.

Seungmin took him to the clinic.

He’s hurt.

The words hit his ears and his lungs stopped working. Chan bolted from his side, sprinting down the cleared pathways and onto the main walkway lining the street. Hyunjin followed on instinct, overtaking him easily with his long legs. He slowed only when he realized he didn’t know where he was going. Fog coated his mind, making him dizzy. Still his legs continued to push on to a small crossroads in the main street.

It was snowing; there was no traffic.

Hyunjin recognized the street they passed as they crossed through the center, Felix’s little bakery tucked just behind the corner building, the snow outside piled high and the lights off. Seeing the tiny hovel made him feel as though he’d been kicked in the chest. The wind knocked from him made him finally suck frigid air into his lungs. His body no longer pushed forward on instinct, but fear.

How could Felix get hurt in a small town like this? He was shy, responsible, sensitive. He couldn’t have been doing anything reckless.

They crossed another street before finally coming upon the town’s sole medical clinic. Aside from the town hall, it had to be the biggest building in the area, though it was clearly not a full-functioning hospital. Hyunjin’s throat and chest burned as he finally stopped to catch his breath inside the lobby.

Seungmin was waiting for them in the small holding area; he rushed into Minho’s arms the moment the three of them burst through the door. His puppy-like face was pale with worry, and eyes puffy as though he’d been crying.

“Seungminnie, what happened to Felix?” Chan asked. His words were kind, but his tone remained frantic. Hyunjin had never seen Chan like this; they’d spent so much time living, hanging out, working together but even when Chan was closed off and hyper-fixated on his work, he was still relaxed. Now he was a spring wound tightly around itself and ready to explode. Even if Hyunjin hadn’t been falling in love with Felix, Chan’s desperate face alone was enough to make him terrified.

“I don’t know, I found him unconscious on the sidewalk. His head was bleeding and his arm looked really bad.”

“Chan?” The four of them turned immediately to the nurse behind the registration desk. Their eyes were kind and reassuring as they motioned for Chan to come up to the desk,

“Yes, that’s me. Is Felix okay?”

“Yes. He has a broken wrist and a concussion but it’s nothing terribly serious as long as he gets proper rest. He’s awake and being fitted with a cast right now if you’d like to go see him.”

“Just family?” The question blurted out of Hyunjin before he had time to process it. Both his best friend and the nurse looked at him, surprised. Yet he knew he needed to see that Felix was okay for himself. He wouldn’t handle sitting in this waiting room while he was hurt somewhere in the building. Hyunjin needed to be with him.

“I suppose not, you all can come.” The nurse nodded after checking that Chan was alright with that. Hyunjin lingered behind a few paces, letting Seungmin and Minho pass him as the nurse led them into one of the primary care wings. As the town was small, Felix was one of few patients there and it didn’t take long to get to his room.

“Hyung!” Felix gasped as Chan bolted past the nurse and into the room. The sound of his deep, groggy voice made Hyunjin’s heartbeat and steps quicken. He pushed his way into the room behind everyone else, relief washing over him as he watched the brothers embrace tightly.

A wad of gauze was taped onto Felix’s forehead, just above his left eyebrow, and his right hand was bound tightly in a baby-pink cast, but he otherwise seemed alert and okay.

“You scared the hell out of us,” Minho scolded, though his voice was soft and eyes kinder than either time Hyunjin had met him, “What the fuck happened?”

Felix opened his mouth to answer, but his gaze finally found Hyunjin. The tips of his ears matched his cast as they turned bright pink, and he ducked his head in embarrassment,

“I didn’t notice the ice falling off one of the buildings. It knocked me down and I landed on my wrist and hit my head. Then I woke up here.”

“You were so careful about that yesterday.” Hyunjin frowned recalling how Felix had pulled him out of the same situation. It very well could’ve been him with the broken wrist.

“Ah…” Felix smiled shyly at him, remembering the same encounter, “I think I was just a little distracted.”

Hyunjin returned the smile; he let himself believe Felix meant that he was distracted thinking about him. It wasn’t difficult for Hyunjin’s own mind to wander back to the way they held each other the night before as he apologized for his hurtful words. Or the way they stole affectionate glances across dinner. The soft, loving way Felix told him to sleep well before they went to their separate rooms.

Was Felix thinking about it too?

“You need to be more careful.” Seungmin’s voice snapped Hyunjin from his thoughts, “You’re lucky you didn’t get more hurt.”

“I know Seungminnie, I’m sorry for worrying you. Thanks for bringing me here.” Felix looked around at the four of them, his gaze shining with love for his friends. His eyes settled on Hyunjin again, a smile touching his lips for a moment before he reached his uninjured hand out for him.

Hyunjin hesitated as three pairs of eyes turned to him, boring into his skin. He was used to people watching him, he was a performer after all, but this was too intimate of a judgement. Why was Felix reaching out to him and not his brother, or his best friend?

Hyunjin watched the warmth flicker in Felix’s eyes as he realized what he was doing. Before he could withdraw his hand in shame, Hyunjin stepped forward and grabbed it. Quickly, they both pretended that Hyunjin was pulling him into a sitting position so he could slide to the edge of the bed.

“Thanks.”

“Are you alright?” Felix hummed at the question, ducking his head shyly before meeting Hyunjin’s concerned gaze.

“I am now.”

|-------------------- Felix --------------------|

Maybe it was the pain medication, maybe the pulsing concussion affecting his brain, or maybe just the terror of being injured, but Felix could not let go of Hyunjin’s hand. The second their skin touched, they were glued together, and Felix preferred it that way.

They continued to hold hands as the nurse returned to tell him he could be discharged. Typically Felix would feel self-conscious about his small hands, but with his palm nestled securely against Hyunjin’s, the taller boy’s fingers wrapped nearly around his whole hand… he felt safe.

Balance was a foreign concept to his legs as Felix tried to stand. Chan grabbed his shoulders, and Hyunjin adjusted their hands so their fingers threaded together in a sturdier grip.

“I’ve got you.” Hyunjin reassured as Felix stumbled, trying to find his feet on the floor. His heart jumped, making his ears and forehead throb with it, but he managed to give Hyunjin’s hand a tight squeeze.

Felix had never been a sleepwalker, but he imagined this was much what it felt like. Everything was a blur as they escorted him through the halls toward the front desk; though Felix could focus his eyes, it was difficult to process anything other than the heavy anchor of his brother’s arm around his shoulders and the hot touch of Hyunjin’s skin against his palm. He vaguely recalled the voice of the nurse who spoke to them, though couldn’t repeat anything they said. Standing was too much of an effort. Everything was spinning around him.

Cold air was the first thing Felix could comprehend as he walked out the front door. He shivered, pressing closer to Chan’s warm body.

“How are we going to get him in?” Minho’s voice came as though it were underwater.

“He’s light, we can pick him up.” Seungmin called from a short distance in front of them. They paused, letting Felix rest for a moment and get a grip on his surroundings. Though the spinning didn’t go away completely, he could at least see now they were standing around Minho’s car.

“We have to make sure we don’t move his head too much.” Chan’s voice rumbled next to Felix’s ear,

“I’ll be okay.” He piped up, though his voice was weak. He tried to step up into the open door but stumbled, the vertigo immediately hitting him as his head moved. Maybe Chan was right.

“Hand him to me.”

Felix barely got his bearings back before Chan and Minho hooked their hands under his arms and lifted him into the air. Panic struck Felix as soon as his feet left the ground and he started to squirm despite the ache in his forehead growing worse.

“I told you I’ve got you.” Long, warm arms wrapped around his torso, holding him tightly as his hyungs let go of his arms. Felix’s eyes focused on Hyunjin’s face as the bigger boy dragged him backwards into the truck, only slightly embarrassed about being passed around like a toddler. It was difficult to feel ashamed when the boy he had such a deep crush on was cradling him in his lap, guiding Felix’s head to his shoulder to steady him there. Felix let himself relax into Hyunjin’s chest, the careening dizziness settling down as he leaned into Hyunjin’s supporting frame.

“Um… Is this okay?” Hyunjin asked quietly, his typical shyness returning now that Felix was safe in his arms.

“Mmmm…” Felix hummed into his chest, heartbeat fluttering in his own “Yes, thank you.”

“Just try not to move too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He was aware of the truck moving, his eyes focusing on the cold, white world outside the window. Just stay awake until you get home. He kept telling himself, fighting the drooping of his eyelids. It was so difficult when the pain medication made his head so fuzzy and Hyunjin’s body was so warm…

“Felix?”

His eyes flickered open. Shit.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No…” he lied, mumbling into Hyunjin’s chest. Coming out of the sleepy haze, he realized at some point during his nap, Hyunjin unzipped his thick winter coat and nestled Felix inside, further adding to the comforting body heat. Hyunjin’s chuckle rumbled against his cheek,

“You’re home. Do you think you can walk inside?”

“No…” He lied again. Sure, he probably could make it in with help, but his body didn’t want to move from his safe cocoon.

“Hang on.” The words were a warning, but Felix barely had time to process it before Hyunjin opened the truck door, hooked his arms under his knees and around his back, and lifted Felix into the air. Shock ripping through him, Felix flung his arms around Hyunjin’s neck to steady himself, his head reeling and his wrist throbbing dully under the pain meds.

“What did I say?” His voice was soothing, gentle.

“To hang on?” Hyunjin chuckled again, sliding out of the truck and into the cold air,

“No, earlier.” Felix’s ears burned and butterflies swarmed his chest as he buried his face into Hyunjin’s shoulder,

“You got me.”

“I got you, it’s okay to relax.”

Felix did just that as Hyunjin carried him up the snowy driveway, trying to calm his heartbeat which he was certain the boy carrying him could feel. It wasn’t until his eyes caught Chan’s anxious expression as they passed through the front door that Felix realized how upset he’d made everyone.

Guilt crashed over him, washing away the fuzzy high of the medication he’d been given and making him sink further into Hyunjin’s arms. What he’d said at the clinic was right, Felix was normally more careful. Far more careful. Yet even the possibility of being in a relationship with Hyunjin made his mind wander. Like a dream slowly returning to memory, he recalled the excitement buzzing through his system as he skipped down the sidewalk in the snow. The loving glances Hyunjin shot him over dinner. The vulnerability as they held each other and cried. Spending time in his kitchen making cookie dough-

"Shit!" The gears snapped back into place in his brain at the memory.

"What? What's wrong?" Hyunjin jumped as Felix jostled in his arms, turning him back toward the door. Chan, Seungmin, and Minho rushed inside at his outburst, worry clear on their faces. Felix sighed, head falling back on Hyunjin's shoulder in defeat,

"The cookies. They're not going to get done for tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it, Lix. I'll do as much as I can." Seungmin reassured immediately, though Felix skeptically raised an eyebrow.

"By yourself?" Memories of failed and burned pancakes and fruit pastries flashed through his mind.

"The dough is already done right? I'll make sure he doesn't burn the building down." Minho smiled teasingly, earning a glare from his boyfriend.

“Alright… please be careful.”

“Call us if you need anything.”

“I think I’ll be okay.” A small smile graced his lips as Felix glanced at Chan, then let his eyes wander up to Hyunjin’s face, just inches from his own. Hyunjin’s ears were bright red, and his cheeks a light pink, his brow furrowed as he was lost in his own head. What could he be thinking about so intensely? Felix wondered as Chan showed Seungmin and Minho out and Hyunjin carried him to the living room.

“I think I’ll be okay now.” He joked to ease the tension of being alone together, finally drawing Hyunjin’s attention back to him.

“Huh? Oh, right. Sorry.” Hyunjin giggled behind his words, carefully tilting Felix back onto his feet. The dizziness wasn’t nearly as bad as before, and Felix managed to make his way, albeit slowly, to the couch without falling.

"How are you feeling?" Chan's voice startled him as his brother entered the room, his eyes still deep with worry.

"I'm okay Channie-hyung. I promise."

"I looked through your cabinets and couldn't find any pain medication."

"Ah… I might've run out." Felix frowned, trying to recall if he had any upstairs in his bathroom. The effort made his head throb, and he had to close his eyes to make the dull ache fade. Chan was silent for a moment, locking eyes with Hyunjin who held his intense gaze steadily.

"I'm going to run to the store. I trust you." He said finally, his voice equally intense as his stare. Hyunjin nodded,

"I'll watch him."

Felix's heart flip flopped at the words; the thought of being alone with Hyunjin already making him flustered. The added protectiveness in his tone only added to the fluttering in his stomach, his skin heating up as a result.

Chan glanced between the two of them and smiled, though it didn't reach his ever-worried eyes. Hyunjin turned to the couch as he left, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Thanks for taking care of me." Felix murmured, his voice coming out shier than he wanted. Still, it made Hyunjin's cheeks and ears turn the prettiest shade of pink he swore he'd ever seen.

"You scared me- all of us." Hyunjin quickly corrected himself, nervously fidgeting loose strands of long blonde hair behind his ear, "I just want to make sure you're okay. Are you?"

"I'm okay with you here." God that sounds so cheesy, why did I say that. He cringed internally as the comment lingered in the air. Felix wanted desperately to squirm away at each passing second until a shy giggle burst out of Hyunjin. Baby hyena was the closest description that Felix could come up with for the cutest, sweetest sound he'd ever heard. He had to bite his lower lip to stop the grin that threatened to split his face in two, "I'm pretty tired though."

Hyunjin perked up as he spoke, reaching his long arms across Felix's body to steal a pillow from the neighbouring chair,

"Here, lay down carefully." Felix sucked in a breath as Hyunjin's large hand pushed very softly against his chest, guiding him to lay down with his head on the pillow. He felt a little dizzy with the new position, but the exhaustion was worse. Quickly shifting his limbs into a comfortable position, he shut his eyes, letting the dizziness turn to drowsiness. Slipping his uninjured hand into his pocket, he produced his phone, using it to bring up music on his speaker system,

"Do you mind if I play some music? I like to listen as I fall asleep."

"I don't mind at all. It's your house." Felix smiled at his words, hitting play on one of Chan's slower, softer songs. Shapes shifted around in his mind's eye, recalling the gentle and fluid movements of the choreography Hyunjin had once danced to the melody.

The sweet hum of Hyunjin's voice singing along was the last thing he registered before the waves of deep sleep overtook him.

|-------------------- Hyunjin --------------------|

Soft snores fell from Felix’s pouted lips, sleep finally overtaking him now that he was safe and warm in his own home. The sight made Hyunjin’s heart squeeze with affection, the love that was growing there spreading even farther into his chest.

Hyunjin knew he was fucked at this point; he couldn’t go back to pretending he didn’t have feelings for the sweet angel sleeping next to him. He no longer felt the need to restrain the adrenaline rushes that new love sent through his veins, no longer felt ashamed at the urge to hold and touch the boy his fingertips craved. He reached them out now, brushing silver strands of hair out of Felix's face.

Fingers trailing down the sleeping boy's cheek, Hyunjin let them rest there for a moment, thumb rubbing softly, rhythmically back and forth across the freckles there. The urge to press his lips to the soft russet skin was overwhelming.

Hyunjin drew away before the impulse overcame him. There would be time for that at a later date, when Felix was fully awake and blushing eagerly under his touch.

Instead, Hyunjin let his affection bring back the guilt he felt having caused Felix to be oblivious to his surroundings. Guilt that his injury stopped him from baking for the town he loved so dearly. This time, it didn't pain his heart nearly as bad; allowing himself to accept his love cushioned the blow. Now he was determined to fix things, not run away.

He wouldn't run away again. He couldn't.

Certain now Felix wouldn't wake at his touch, Hyunjin slowly pried the phone from his small fingers. Thankfully, his phone remained unlocked while music was playing, giving Hyunjin easy access to his contact list.

A smile burst across Hyunjin's lips at the sight of the cute names on the list. Each person had their own string of emojis that no doubt described who they were. His smile grew with each name he recognized:

Channie-hyung🐺🌜🥰

Minho-hyung🐈😈🔥

Seungminnie🐶🧁💙

Hyunjin paused briefly to wonder how Felix would save his number, the thought of Felix having his number save at all making his stomach squirm excitedly.

Quickly he copied Seungmin's number into his own phone, dismissed the contacts app so Felix wouldnt see he'd opened it, and slipped the device back into the sleeping boy's hand. The front door clicked shut just as Hyunjin did so, making his heart leap as though he'd been caught.

Chan shuffled into the room, and all Hyunjin could do was pray guilt didn't show on his face.

"How is he?" Thank God, he didn't see.

"Sleepy. I think we should let him rest for a little while."

"Thank you for watching him."

"You don't have to thank me. I'll do it again whenever he needs me."

The worry melted from Chan's face for the first time in hours,

"He really likes you, you know."

"I really like him too." The weight of speaking those words out loud brought tears to Hyunjin's eyes. There really was no going back now.

"Are you two….?"

"I don't know. We'll see after tomorrow."

"Why?" Chan cocked his head, confused.

"I'll explain later. I'm gonna go for a walk for a bit, but I'll be back for dinner." Carefully sliding off the couch so as not to jostle Felix too much, Hyunjin grabbed his thick coat and gloves from where they were discarded on the floor and made his way outside.

It stopped snowing since they'd gotten Felix home, but the cold still punched Hyunjin in the chest. With shaky fingers, he pulled off one glove to pull up the dialpad on his phone, selecting the new number from his contact list and hitting the call button.

Hello?

Seungmin? This is Hyunjin, Chan and Felix's friend.

Hi! Is Felix okay?

Yeah, He's doing well and resting. I was wondering if you had time to go to the bakery right now?

Uh, sure. Why?

I have something planned, but I need your help.

#stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #skz au #lee felix #hyunjin #hyunlix #hyunlix fic #mine #my fic #the christmas baker #ITS HERE IM SORRY #only one chapter left omg

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mystic-kitten-writer · 4 years ago

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I lovveeeee Zuko & Yue. BUT! I’m a sucker for breakup angst, can you plz write one where they breakup but they’re all sad with out eachother but they don’t wanna admit it 🥺🥺

But like- why do you have to break my heart like this 🥺

Here is me, finishing my finals, and my first drabble is angst LOOL

LET’S DO THIS~

AU: Limerence

Pairing: Zuko x Fem. OC (Ying Yue Jiang)

Masterlist

Salt on a wound.

Their eyes locked, gasping as they spotted each other from across the vast room.

There could be thousands upon thousands of people, but you could bet your own life that these two would still be able to spot each other in seconds. It was the magical connection, everything about them a reflection of each other, down to their racing pulses.

That was the power they held.

Making time stand still as their energy mixed, like tender caresses and gentle hums, something straight out of a romance novel.

So, imagine the looks on all the guests' faces, their chatter immediately dying as they spotted the two ex-love birds silently gawking at one another. Everyone's expressions flattered, Aang shutting his eyes at the apparent twist of pain. The rose-coloured tone of the room quickly changing to a blue.

It was like observing the aftermath of a storm, Zuko and Yue nothing more but broken pieces of their once fabulous selves.

Neither one of them wholly healed, neither one of them genuinely ready to move on, let go.

And ironically, while the pain and utter loneliness were so clearly etched on their faces, Yue and Zuko were oblivious to each other's pain.

Yue could hear the blood rush to her head, the room spinning, as her hands began to shake. The wine in her glass swishing as she bites her lip to stop the tears that lined her eyes. Her heart was beating; her mind utterly fixated on Zuko. She knew she wasn't completely healed from the break-up, but my gosh, now she really knew.

To love someone who already moved on, unbothered. That blank expression Yue saw on Zuko's handsome features, her fingers itching to brush his nose and adorable lips. To surround herself in his steady warmth, to hear the deep rumbles from his chest as he cuddled her close to his chest. She felt so safe, so loved- and Yue choked down a sob.

To think she believed she deserved to be happy.

To think she believed those sweet words from those sinful lips, desperate for those sweet lies.

He said he loved her, that he could never imagine a life without her by his side-

"Yue-" Katara whispered harshly into her ear, holding the hand that cupped her wine to stop it from tipping over.

Yue jumped, letting out a tiny gasp. Katara saw the confusion in her gold eyes. Yue's mind was so disoriented and dark, half-heartedly thanking Katara with a meek tone. It was like her mind was empty, that tiny bit of soul that Zuko didn't manage to destroy finally dissipating.

"Let's go, sweetheart-" Katara urged, her brows pinching together as her voice wavered.

Yue was as pale as a spirit, her bottom lip trembling. And with a dead shake of her head, Yue forced a broken smile.

"I-I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

Katara felt sick to her stomach.

Yue wasn't okay.

She was so far from okay; Katara could feel her blood boil because she could still hear Yue's soft cries. How Yue would lock herself in her room, blaming herself, demonizing herself. And despite knocking, trying to comfort, reassure, Yue would force a smile.

'I'm okay. Please, don't worry about me.'

Katara squeezed Yue's hand, wanting nothing more than to whisk Yue away. To see her happy.

To have her sister back-

Katara shifted her gaze momentarily as she grabbed Yue, a scowl on her expression as she watched Sokka walk to Zuko.

Not once in his lifetime has Sokka seen Zuko as shitty looking as he did now.

The most luxurious of robes, hair tied, handsomely groomed. Certain individuals not hiding their perverse joy in watching Yue break because that meant Zuko was available. And as Sokka stepped closer, taking note of how hollow his cheeks seem, the dark circles under his eyes, did he understand what Yue meant all those years when she said she fell in love with that spark.

Zuko seemed like an empty shell.

A boring nod for a greet, ripping his gaze abruptly from Yue with a thick swallow as they patted each other on the back.

"How are you, bud?" Sokka asked, trying to avoid the obvious, but he felt a shiver run up his spine.

"Fucking fantastic." Zuko sarcastically muttered under his breath with a hiss.

The venom in Zuko's words, a wave of anger.

So much anger, because unlike Yue, who let herself embrace the sadness, the loneliness- Zuko couldn't.

He much rather bask in his self-pity, drowning himself in work to keep his mind off Yue. Because no matter where Zuko was in the kingdom, he would be reminded of Yue.

Baked sweets, flowers, anything pleasant in life reminded Zuko of her. The dark taste of alcohol on his lips - the only means to push her away from his thoughts. A reminder of how disgusting of a human he was to break such a spirit like her. And it didn't help that the people were furious at the news that the pair had broken up. Out-right riots, people carrying signs that said 'Zuko doesn't deserve such a treasure' or 'Like father-like-son.'

Not like they were wrong.

Beauty and the Beast, and even then, Zuko snorted. Calling himself a beast would be an insult amongst creatures; not even the term monster seemed to encapsulate the self-hatred and loneliness Zuko felt.

Not like the royals cared.

Oh, no. There were ecstatic to get rid of Yue from the kingdom.

The next day shoving marriage proposals from 'real' suitors. 'They will treat you like how you should be treated, Fire Lord Zuko,' they happily noted. So why does Zuko feel more empty, dead, than ever before? How a single peck from Yue's pouty lips had his heart racing, blood rushing to his cheeks as he felt speechless.

Zuko's hands balled into fists, eyes scanning over the Northern Water Tribe and Earth Nation's royals. Zuko could tell from their looks alone what they were thinking. A heartbroken woman, easy prey-

They didn't deserve to see Yue's gorgeous eye smile.

Her happy giggles as she snuggled her head deep into his chest before they went to bed. Zuko's eyes would roll to the back of his head, just thinking of her addictive scent. How soft her skin felt under his. Her innocent and genuine heartfelt affections-

"Zuko," Sokka spoke, placing a hand over his shoulder, and Zuko snapped out of his dark thoughts.

Sokka couldn't bear it anymore, no longer beating around the bush, his hand digging into Zuko's robes and wrinkling the material.

"Talk to her, Zuko."

"No."

"And why not?" Sokka provoked, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. The frustration running through Sokka's veins, watching his best friend and sister dance in circles because everyone knew the truth.

A simple conversation, a discussion and this could all be over-

"I am a King; she's a commoner." Zuko disapproved through clenched teeth, spewing utter bullshit that Sokka let out a bewildered laugh.

"That didn't stop you before."

"I've moved on."

"For sure, Zuko. That's why you reek of alcohol and tobacco; Iroh sending letters of concern. That's why Kiyi begged Suki to bring Yue back to the kingdom." Sokka whispered harshly, and Zuko could feel something trickle down his palm.

His nails digging into his skin, beads of ruby falling as Zuko gave Sokka a warning look.

A plead.

Sokka's eyes softened, seeing the vulnerability in Zuko's eyes for that short moment. The look Yue gave to everyone before she burst into tears, her heart shattering as everyone struggled to pick up the pieces.

He was hurting. No matter how much Zuko tried to play it off, Sokka knew better. Everyone in this room knew better. With a tired sigh, Sokka hoped.

"Please, Zuko," Sokka spoke with a weak plead, and Zuko's temper flared.

"Leave me the fuck alone-" Zuko seethed, shoving his friend's hand off his shoulder.

The hushed mutters amongst the crowds, curious eyes watching Sokka fumble back at the explosion. The tension was thick; Zuko's chest puffed as heated flickers of fire left his dry lips.

Anger.

The need and want to scream, to shout. Zuko’s narrowed eyes hastily shifted around the room, searching for Yue- what the actual fuck was he doing?

"I need air-" Zuko growled, twisting on his heels as he wandered towards the large doors that he just entered minutes ago.

"Fire Lord Zuko-" The guards awkwardly fumbled, and with a sharp glare, they got the point. Standing in their spot as the grand doors swung open, only for Zuko to pass.

Everyone watched Zuko's fleeting figure. Walking down the empty hallway with his head hung low before the doors came to closed.

And Zuko let out a bitter laugh.

Alone.

He was alone...again.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters besides any original characters I have created.

Cross-posted on Ao3/Tumblr/Quotev/Wattpad to discourage plagiarism.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

#atla #zuko #zuko avatar #avatar the last airbender #zuko x reader #zuko x oc #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #avatar #limerence #masterlist #request #ask me anything #anon answered #like and/or reblog!

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demigodsanswer · 4 years ago

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Ok ok is once upon a pointe still being updated because it is the best fucking thing

Like obviously it takes time to write but is it abandoned? Just making sure because I LOVE IT

It’s five am and I’ve read it twice so yeah its not abandoned or anything right?? Stay safe xx

It’s not abandoned! Thank you for your enthusiasm, I really appreciate it (and honestly kind of need it). My brain just took a hard left into a Star Wars hyper fixation. For context, I now own nine baby Yodas.

I know exactly what I want to happen in the next chapter, and I’ve even started writing it. My brain just can only think about Luke Skywalker. I’m sorry.

Here, have a preview:

Percy hated ballet.

He’d only been doing it for a week so far, but he was sure that he hated it. The room was cold, he didn’t know what anyone was talking about when they used fancy French words, and he was the only boy.

The week before, he’d had to hide quickly in some random room at the rec center to keep his old basketball team from seeing him doing ballet. Ms. Hestia had found him crouched behind the door and sat with him for a while. She was sympathetic to his plight, but she didn’t seem to really get it. She wasn’t a boy, after all.

Ms. Hestia was the only thing Percy did like about ballet. She was nicer than his basketball coaches or any of his teachers at school. She had even found him shoes to wear. Yeah, they were pink, but she promised they were the same as boy’s shoes. Percy didn’t really mind, as long as they fit.

Percy stood in class with one hand on the barre, the other out to the side, trying to mimic the girl’s arm in front of him.

They had just done, by Percy’s count, a million tendu and pile combinations. He hated barre. He wanted to jump and spin, but he hadn’t had the chance yet. He still barely knew his fifth position from his third.

“Alright, let’s do some Pas de Cheval.” Ms. Hestia said from the front of the room.

“What’s pad da chaval?” Percy whispered to the girl in front of him, not sure he was saying it right. She turned back to him. Her dark hair was the same color as her dark eyes. She was quiet, but a very good dancer as far as Percy could tell. She was better than him at least.

“This one,” she said quietly. She picked up her foot like she was going into passe, but stopped half-way up her shin, and then stuck her foot out, dropping her toes to the floor and pulling her foot back to third. No, Percy corrected himself, fifth.

Ms. Hestia made eye contact with them, and Percy was sure he was going to get in trouble for talking in class, but she just smiled at them.

“Bianca, could you show the class your pas de cheval?” Ms. Hestia asked.

Bianca didn’t look very comfortable with sixteen pairs of eyes on her, but she did it again, head tall, back straight, one arm out.

“Very good!” Ms. Hestia said. “Thank you for reminding us.” Bianca beamed. Percy mimicked the step hoping to get the hang of it before Ms. Hestia gave the combination. “Remember,” Ms. Hestia said, “pas de cheval means ‘step of the horse,’” she dragged her foot across the ground a few times, “horses go like this.” She did her best horse impression, and everyone laughed. “Knowing what the words mean in English isn’t necessary, but it does help sometimes.”

They all turned back to the barre and started the combination.

#do not talk to me about my ao3 account or i will put forks in you #once upon a pointe #paynomindtomyidiocy

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bellesque · 5 years ago

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idk if your requests are open still but royal loki concept with a midgardian reader— yeah? maybe? take it wherever you want from there and be creative because your other fics are and just amAZING! i might be late but anywayy— happy birthday, even though it was yesterday!

Midnight’s Mischief (Loki x Reader)

Read on my AO3.

Summary:

You only wanted to feel like a princess for a night.

You didn’t expect to meet an actual prince.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Dancing, Royal Loki, some Cinderella Elements

A/N: Listen you can’t give me so much freedom like this because I feel in my bones this is going to turn into a multichaptered fic and I have a million other wips side-eyeing me rn

Tag List: @shiningloki @imnotrevealingmyname @wolfsmom1 @hanyasnape @lukeyirwy @toozmanykids @rorybutnotgilmore @myraiswack @green-valkyrie (Tag List is currently open! If you’d like to be a part of it, let me know!)

BEING IN A whimsical, fairytale ball has always been high on your list of escapism fantasies.

You wondered if princess parties (like the ones in movies) were actually real when royalty was still a thing. If they got to attend extravagant, lavish balls in venues that seemed to reach the high heavens, with castle corridors illuminated by candlelight and crystal chandeliers. Whether fact or fiction, you’ve never been more excited for a night than you are now.

Just for tonight, you allow the indulgence of looking—and feeling—like royalty.

Your heels clack against the marbled tiles of the venue as you and your friend Leigh navigate your way to the Regency Ballroom. Careful not to trip over your ball gown, you glance at Leigh. Beside you she shimmies, adjusting the top of her gown to fit her boobs better.

“I feel twelve,” she mutters, brazenly cupping her breasts.

“Oh, please. As if you’ve never wanted to be a princess for a night.”

“I mean, yeah, when I was twelve. And I’m saying this with love, but the fact that you’ve got on a fucking crown isn’t exactly helping me feel like an adult here.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “I’m sure I’m not the only one,” you say, a little defensive. “And by the way, it’s a tiara.”

Leigh smirks at you, perfectly painted lips curling at the edges. “Twenty bucks?”

“Fifteen.”

“Bo-ring.”

“Fine.”

She claps her hands, looping her arm with yours. The Regency Ballroom is right ahead. “I hope you know that I agreed to this because you said there’d be some yummy men. Potential knights in shining armor, all that jazz.”

“And I value your honesty,” you say, nodding a thank you to the servers who open the large doors as you approach. “But, for the record—”

“Whoa, the organizers of this thing were not playing.”

It’s true: the place is more than what you imagined from the email invite you received prior. Aside from the grandeur of the venue itself, the entire ambience transports you into what feels like another world entirely. Soft, regal music swells from the mini orchestra that plays on the raised platform, and everyone’s dressed in gowns of all colors and periods and styles.

It makes you a little giddy to see everyone commit to the event to such an extent. You wish this becomes a regular occasion.

“You don’t mind if I ditch you, right? If I, hypothetically, find someone cute?” Leigh grabs a glass of wine from a passing waiter. “Because I saw this guy in a tailcoat on the way inside, and he was kinda giving me looks already, so…”

Leigh is neither best friend nor fair weather friend. She’s in town for a few days, and having been partners in a high school class once, she somehow felt the need to ring you up, pleading for you to take her anywhere because she was dying of boredom.

You mentioned that you had an extra ticket, and she said yes before you could even finish your sentence and tell her it was to a costume ball.

“Hey, no worries,” you beam, plucking the wine glass from her fingers and taking a dainty sip, “by all means, mingle! Meet someone! Get swept off your feet! It’s a party. It’s what I was going to do whether or not you came anyway, so don’t be too guilty.”

“Okay, great!” She kisses you on the cheek. “Because he’s kind of already waiting.” Leigh jerks her head to the buffet table across the room, where a broad-shouldered man stands tentatively, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He’s clearly waiting for someone—that someone specifically being Leigh, if the not so surreptitious glances your way are any indication.

Before she can leave, a lady with a hoop skirt that’s draped more than the large windows of the ballroom comes into your peripheral, something glittering atop her bouffant hair.

You lift your chin at Leigh triumphantly. “Pay up first, baby, you saw that tiara.”

“Fifteen.”

“You said twenty!”

“I changed my mind!” she calls as she lifts the hem of her gown off the floor, retreating. Laughing, Leigh waves and you bring up a hand as the man places a meaty hand on her shoulder blade.

Well. You knew you’d lose her for the night. Just not this quickly.

Still, what you said is true. Leigh’s absence doesn’t dampen your mood. You’re happy standing by the tables at the side, observing people and their different gowns, with a glass of rosé in hand. Couples trickle into and out of the ballroom dance floor; others mingle by the tables like you, occasionally nibbling on the fanciest finger food you could ever imagine. The light reflecting from the gorgeous, majestic chandelier dances over the partygoers, and you revel in the moment, wanting to commit this to memory. Simply existing in it. The minuet transitions into a waltz, and more people and their partners taking to the dance floor with excited grins on their faces.

You would like to take your dress out for a twirl at some point before the night ends. If only a gentleman were to ask.

“That’s a lovely color on you, my lady.”

Speak of the—you turn around, glad you didn’t startle so much to the point of spilling perfectly good wine, to face whoever spoke to you. A subtle smirk plays on the face of a lithe man dressed in what looks to be costume straight out of a period film. Or fantasy period film. It doesn’t really make sense, but somehow he makes it work.

You glance down at your gown: a rich forest green with silver detailing cinched around your waist. “Oh, uh… thanks.” You smile politely.

Only it falters after a couple seconds, because he pins you with an expectant look. “My… lord…?” you try, uncertain.

Satisfaction spreads across his face, confusing you mildly. Did he really wait to be addressed…?

“Would you care to dance?” he asks, taking a step towards you and bending forward. A bow, you realize, as he holds the posture while awaiting your answer.

“O-okay, sure.”

You slip your hand in his outstretched one, his slender fingers clasping around you and leading you gently to the middle of the dance floor. His back is as straight as a board as he guides you towards him, and when you’re a pace away he pulls you closer. His hand settles on the small of your back, yours on his shoulder.

And then you’re waltzing; slowly, tentatively, shyly. Though he takes the lead you can’t follow as well as you should, your bafflement blocking you from waltzing like you do in your daydreams. And as weird as it sounds, he’s distracting you from dancing—even if you’re dancing with him.

He’s good-looking. Strong, cutting features with a regal gait. He stands much taller than you are, his head angled down towards you so his green eyes pierce you with the intensity of the sun at high noon.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you. As much as you try to look away, fixate your attention instead on the couples that sway around you, your gaze always finds his. And he probably hasn’t looked away from you once. There’s no malice in it though—he regards you with somewhat of a silent, amused curiosity.

If it’s awkward to be dancing with a good-looking stranger who seemingly can’t take his eyes off you, it doesn’t help that you’re both painfully silent. You expect him to make polite small talk as he guides your steps—only aside from the lovely orchestra playing and the faint chatter of the attendees around you, all that’s heard is the sound of your breathing.

The music winds down, violins sustaining their last note, and your expectations are shattered once again when instead of this mystery man guiding you into a twirling finish, he spins you into the next dance.

Another waltz.

“Do I scare you, princess?” he asks, raising his chin slightly.

You jump a little at his sudden question. “Um. Maybe a little?”

The man sighs, giving a short chuckle as he shakes his head minutely. The hand on your back releases you as you circle around him, one of your arms outstretched as gracefully as you can manage, before you come back in front of him and rest your hand back on his shoulder.

“Perhaps my reputation does precede me,” he mutters.

You blink, even more confused now. “Sorry?”

“Do you…” He narrows his eyes in near disbelief. “Do you not know who I am?”

“I think I’d remember if you told me your name,” you say with a sheepish laugh. Of course you’d remember. With a face like his and the rich voice to match, meeting him on a night like tonight? You’d remember it forever.

“Ah. Then—forgive me, my lady.” He pulls away from you to bow cordially. “Prince Loki, of Asgard.”

Stunned doesn’t seem to cover the emotion racing through you. No one else seems to mind that you’ve both stopped smack dab in the center for him to bow to you with a flourish of his cape. He looks up at you, expectant, yet again, and so you hastily curtsy and mumble your name.

He rises, taking you once again in his arms and picking up where you left off in perfect rhythm to the music. It’s a little disorienting. Your mind struggles to catch up: so far he’s bowed to you twice, is leading you through a perfect waltz, and is, apparently, a prince.

“And your kingdom, my lady?”

“What?”

“Am I to believe you’re a princess with no people to rule over?” he smirks.

And then somehow, realization dawns on you: he’s an actor. Trying to get you into some kind of fantasy, medieval, whatever character to really sell the idea to yourself that you have actually been whisked away, into a story akin to fiction.

“Okay,” you snort, “since we’re doing this whole made up thing, fine, I’ll humor you. Uh”—you rack your brains, glancing at the chandelier overhead—“Genovia.”

“Genovia,” Prince Loki repeats, as though testing the name on his tongue. It comes out melodic and velvety, making you shiver involuntarily. “Sounds… quaint. Not as dreadful or painfully dull as some of the other kingdoms I’ve heard of tonight. What in the Nine is New Jersey?”

You laugh this time, an actual belly laugh, your head tipping back in mirth at his delivery. You sober up sooner than you’d like when you see he’s still absolutely mystified.

“Well, that’s what it is,” you add helpfully. “Genovia… it… yeah.”

“What are your people famous for?”

Damn. He’s really making you think. “Gosh, um…” You blow out a raspberry. “Horses? Apples? Archery? Oh! Mattress surfing.”

Prince Loki hums thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Either he’s an exceptionally good actor, or he really hasn’t seen The Princess Diaries. Or, a part of you begins to argue, he could actually be who he says he is—

But that wouldn’t make sense.

Could it?

“Well, what about you?” you say quickly, seizing the opportunity to deflect. “What’s uh, what’s Asgard famous for?”

“The Realm Eternal,” Loki says, completely serious. “Warriors of strength, leaders of justice.” He pauses at your lost expression. “Have you not heard of it?”

You have a feeling he has more to say, so you shake your head. Prince Loki spins you around once, before continuing.

“Asgardians are the peacekeepers of the Nine Realms, endowed with strength of all facets to keep the realms from falling. Thwart the possible dangers it can be to itself before it starts, or finish disputes where they arise. We protect. Asgard plays a vital role, if not the most vital of all the realms.”

“And you’re their prince.”

The corners of Loki’s lips curl upwards. “One of them.”

“So you have a brother.”

You’re not sure why you’re still entertaining him at this point. The waltz’s cadence does nothing to separate you from each other, and neither does the lively first note of the polka. Instead Loki’s leading you into a quicker step, bouncing in the most poised manner you’ve ever seen a man dance in.

“Aye,” he says. “Most prefer him to myself.”

“I prefer you,” you blurt out mindlessly, immediately feeling regret in the form of heat crawling up your neck.

Prince Loki’s piercing green eyes light up in surprise. “Not many would,” he murmurs.

“Well, I mean—” you backpedal, “—I don’t—I haven’t met—”

The entrance to the ballroom rattles in its hinges, followed by a booming thud. Heads swivel to the source of the commotion and even the orchestra falters. You are no exception, craning your neck to look behind Loki and at the doors.

He is the only one who seems completely unfazed.

“Perhaps that is for the best. Ready for our big finish, princess?”

Bang! The doors swing open, and strange men in very detailed costumes—metal armor, odd-shaped helmets—charge in, long spears in hand. Your mouth falls open. You’ve never seen anything like them. The attendees gasp collectively, some dancers pulling away from their partners to retreat to the sides of the room.

But Loki places his hands on your hips, lifting you off your feet and into the air, and instructs, “Eyes on me, princess.”

“Wh—” He spins you around, the world around you blurring, and you fix your attention on him so as not to get dizzy. “Prince Loki, I think we should get ou—”

He sets your feet on the ground, a mad intensity in his eyes—and Loki wraps his arms around you and kisses you.

Well. You’ve had multiple daydreams about how tonight would go. This is definitely not one of them.

His arms tighten around your waist, and swarms of butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach. Your feet are on the ground, but with your fingers and toes tingling with every soft movement of his lips against yours, it feels like you’re floating. He’s kissing you. You’re kissing him.

The clanging of armor jolts you apart, but Loki keeps you within arm’s reach. Your heart pounds against your sternum.

“I like it when you say my name,” he murmurs.

“Prince Loki!” one of the strange men shouts. The prince in front of you flinches slightly, and then huffs in amusement.

“Don’t like it when they do.”

“I—what?”

Loki sighs. “I’m afraid I have to bid you good night. And farewell.”

“Wait, who are they?” Question after question presents itself, your mind a jumbled mess and your knees still shaking from that damn kiss. “What do they want?”

“The Einherjar. Ah. Well.” He brushes a thumb over your cheekbone. “What’s life without a little mischief?”

“Your Highness!”

“Where is he?”

He pulls you by the elbows, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, and whispers in a voice that could melt butter, “Something to remember me by.”

And then he takes off, a cheeky grin splitting his face as he keeps his eyes trained on his pursuers, slinking through the crowd and towards a nondescript door. An exit.

The strange men sift through the partygoers. Some shake their heads in fear, cowering; others shrug. You simply hope they do not approach you. And by some mad stroke of luck, when they’re a few feet away from you—they ignore you entirely.

Loki catches your eye by the small archway, and with a mischievous wink and a heartstopping smile, he disappears with a flash of his green cape.

You exhale, a little shakily, as one armored man shouts instructions and points to the door. They bolt after him, each footfall thunderous. A few seconds tick past, and once the clatter disappears completely the orchestra warms up again.

Back to normal. Just a little. But you—you’re still reeling from what just happened.

Leigh sidles up to you, poking your side.

“So,” she says, “who was the knight in shining armor, and what’d they want with him?”

His kiss, the feel of his mouth against yours, still tingles at your lips, lingering like the warmth of a fire. You stare at the open door, still trying to make sense of what on Earth just happened.

“I… I think I just met a prince.”

#by belle #rorybutnotgilmore #reader request #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fluff #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #fluff #ao3 author

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ajokeformur-ray · 5 years ago

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Baby, you’re fucking gorgeous// Joker x Reader//

Okay, so this one wasn’t requested but I have to get it out of my system. Every time I look at Joker, I blush like crazy and I just know that smug bastard would enjoy the attention. And so, this little imagine was born. Hopefully it’s as good as the Arthur Fleck ones I’ve written, because I haven’t written for Joker before. Let me know what you think!

Summary: You’re still unused to Joker… his mannerisms, his physical appearance, and you. Can’t. Stop. STARING. He notices, of course he does, but he subtly teases you until finally, oh, finally, you just can’t take it anymore. Are you in for a long night? Oh, most definitely.

TW; swearing, smoking (Joker), err… soft smut, teasing Joker. Mentions of Arthur’s malnutrition in real terms; if it upsets you or may potentially trigger you, then please skip the asterisked (*) paragraph. The asterisks are placed immediately before and after the paragraph. No critical plot info. is in that paragraph! I will signal its finish with another asterisk at the end.

word count: 1,560

Arthur Fleck/Joker: @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs

Wanna be added to the taglist? Let me know in a DM or ask, please - comments can be hard to track

Oh, help you.

Arthur Fleck, your beloved significant other, had only just recently, in the last few days, completed his gradual but inevitable transition into Joker. You had come home one night expecting to see a bare faced, very weary and tired Arthur greet you at the door, but instead you had opened the door and before you had even shut it behind you, hands had grabbed your face and pulled you into a huge messy kiss; traces of greasepaint all over your face.

You had stepped back to see an exuberant Arthur. “Hey, Arthur!”

Arthur had smiled softly at you, his eyes so kind and gentle, but he had shaken his head patiently. He had known that you wouldn’t know who he was, and that it would take time before you could tell his personas apart. “When I’m like this, call me Joker, darling.” Then he had burst into laughter, the sound loud and bouncing off the walls; it was freer and more genuine than you had ever heard him before. You had accepted this new persona without question, only wanting him to be happy, and that was that. Some days you didn’t know who would greet you at the door. It didn’t matter, though, so long as you saw your enigmatic love at each day’s end.

Despite your bravado in front of Joker, you still weren’t acclimatised to him. You had seen glimpses of him over the months, flashes of his confidence had shone through Arthur and you had found yourself malfunctioning, blushing too badly to be able to look Arthur in the eye. It had excited you, though a deeper and easier to hide part of you had worried for the future of Arthur Fleck… would you still be a part of it? Would he still love you as this new person came into light?

As such, you had a problem. Only days before had you met Joker, and now with you sat on the sofa watching Joker dancing without music, his own eerie but liberating rhythm playing on a seeming loop in his complex and twisted mind, you were mesmerised. You were caught like a fly in a web. You hadn’t been able to look away from him all day. Arthur was devastatingly beautiful but Joker… oh, Joker was ethereal. You loved him. To love Arthur was to love Joker, he was the same man, and you had been conflicted about loving Joker initially but, like all other potentially bad decisions in your life, you had chucked yourself down the rabbit hole head first. You could only hope that Joker would catch you, just as Arthur had.

As Joker turned with stilted movements, he spotted you staring. He raised an eyebrow, winked at you and then carried on dancing like nothing had happened. You quickly grabbed the nearest cushion, burying your face in it to muffle the strange noise that left your throat, but also the blush that spread like wild fire across your face. He was fucking gorgeous.

You squeezed the pillow just a bit harder on your face, biting your lip to further muffle the second squeak that left you. Arthur had been able to make you blush with just a straight face but Joker… Joker knew what he did to you without even trying, and it seemed as though he had already figured out that this new persona, his truest and freest self, was your greatest weakness.

You inhaled the scent of cigarettes and your love as you released the cushion and stood, intent on going to the kitchen to get some food for yourself and Joker. Even now, he took very poor care of himself, but he lavished you with everything. It was frustrating, but you supposed that you could take care of the two of you. Joker already worked so hard to support you as a small family, so the least you could do was to do your share.

You turned to the barely stocked fridge, thinking of what kind of meal you could make with what was in there. You had the ingredients for a basic pasta bake, so that was what you set your mind to. Arthur couldn’t eat much of anything at all, his body so used to starvation and malnourished from such a young age that even slightly rich foods could make him sick; his body unable to digest it, and you had quickly had to adapt to his body’s needs.

You turned to the oven, your mind still fixated on the haunting images of Joker dancing to music that was in his very soul, and began to make dinner. A soft, low humming had replaced the silence in the apartment, and you found your body reaction to Joker’s music. Your hips wanted to sway, your head wanted to tilt up towards the ceiling so you could listen better, and as you set the pan down for the pasta bake, large hands seized your shoulders; spinning you around into a dance.

You were too preoccupied with the way that Joker’s eyes stared into your own to notice what he was doing with your body; turning it this way and that, spinning you, and dancing with you like Fred and Ginger.

“Like what you see?”

You blushed as Joker winked, and he laughed. There was a tinge of hysteria to his laughter, but you didn’t mind. Laughter was better than sorrow, and you had long since learned the different emotions behind every laugh that Arthur had.

Two could play at the confidence game… Arthur and now Joker were able to read your body language with a single glance in your direction, so intuitive was he. If he could tease you, knowing exactly what he was doing but being less suppressible than Arthur so he could enjoy what he did to you, then you could use a little bravado of your own. You made yourself, with the low stirrings of lust mixing with love and affection in your gut, look Joker full in the face. You allowed the blush to rise, resisted the urge to cover your face with your hands, and let Joker see.

You even squeaked again, much to your mortification and Joker’s amusement. You cleared your throat, drew some more strength from that familiar touch you swore you could feel even in your dreams, and said, “Baby, you’re fucking gorgeous!”

“Have you started dinner yet, kitten?“

You shook your head. "No. Just about to st -"

"Save it. I know what I’m hungry for and it’s not pasta.” Joker gave you that look and you made a mental note to clear tomorrow’s schedule. You’d be walking and sitting funny for the rest of the week, if memory served you well. Last time he had looked at you in that way, with such blatant want and fire in his eyes, you had had sex multiple times in one night… every time you had started to drift off, he had woken you up with a demanding kiss and praises whispered in your ear.

“Hey, uh, J-joker?” You stuttered over his name, your eyes still on his, and he winked at you, his smirk widening. The cocky bastard was not helping you at all and he fucking knew it.

“Yes, dearest?”

“Do you even know how beautiful you are?”

Joker’s smirk widened to almost ear to ear (though his makeup made that illusion even stronger) and one arm slipped around your waist, pulling you tightly into him. His other arm gracefully came up and over his head, his fingers dangling loosely in the air. and he slowly lowered you into a dip. Where had this strength came from? Hovering above you, Joker’s eyes softened and he almost looked like Arthur again. It was a close enough resemblance that it made you want to cry. Where was your sweet man? Where had he gone? Did he still love you? You would never stop loving Arthur, no matter who he turned into, but you couldn’t confidently say the same about Joker.

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him badly. Joker must have read it on your face, for his eyes flickered down to your lips and his smirk faded as he just stared at you.

“Joker?” He was starting to make you nervous, and you got up to move, to leave, but his fingers dug almost painfully into your hips and his lips descended upon yours messily. His kiss was greedy, his tongue pushing its way past your lips. He kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to kiss you, and it was with a surprising show of strength that he murmured, “Jump”, against your lips, and lifted you so that your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist.

Without breaking the kiss, Joker somehow managed to carry you seamlessly through the flat, unfaltering in his step despite how your body obscured his vision. It was with great faith in his muscle memory that he navigated the two of you to the bedroom. He roughly shoved you off him and you landed on the bed. Your body didn’t cease bouncing before he was on you like a lion pouncing on his prey, and his lips seized yours again, his face paint smearing all over yours.

You were in for a long night.

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine #joker #joker imagine #joker 2019 #joker 2019 imagine #joker x reader #joaquin phoenix #Joaquin phoenix joker #joaquin phoenix x reader #phoenix!joker #phoenix!joker x reader #phoenix!joker imagine

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forestwater87 · 4 years ago

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Listen, just because this fandom is temporarily dead doesn’t mean my love for Gwenvid is.

Mega thanks to @gwenvidweek for making this happen! We love you, mods!

Gwenvid Week, Day 1: Before Camp/After Camp

David’s always had a soft spot for rituals. They remind him of his mom, of camp -- of all the things that feel like home. They center him, clear his mind, get him ready for the challenges ahead.

He carefully dots the exclamation mark in the sand and takes a step back, tossing his writing stick to the side and putting his hands on his hips. The words written on the shore are a little crooked, the D a little crooked from when a sudden bird call startled him, but as he kicks off his boots (carefully rolling up his socks and smushing them into the toes to keep them from getting sandy) his chest is warm and light.

And lucky for him, because the lake is so cold he nearly jumps out of his skin. Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, he forces himself to wade out to his waist, and turns back to survey his handiwork. With the frigid water of Lake Lilac leaving his legs numb, the cool breeze making the trees rustle and the air smell like pine needles, and the sun already scorching everything it touches as it climbs into the sky, he reads back the words in the sand, letting his gaze move slow and deliberately over each swoop and wobbly line and tracing their mirror in the calm surface of the lake like sacred runes.

Campe diem. The words that make the summer begin.

Or . . . not quite.

“David!”

The voice makes him jump, but a second later he smiles. “Good morning, Gwen!” he calls, splashing back to shore and subtly kicking away the letters. “It’s nice to see you up so early on such an important day!”

His co-counselor doesn’t look like it’s nice to be up, but aside from a baleful glare she shoots at the sunrise she doesn’t respond. She’s still groggy, dressed in her pajamas with her hair a messy tangle of knots that blend the two tones into a single warm burgundy. The sun makes her glow where it hits her face, warm and lit from the inside like a jack-o-lantern . . . only that sounds a lot less pretty than he intended, so he’s relieved that’s one of the thoughts he didn’t share out loud.

David wonders if people enjoy looking at their best friends this much, or if it means something potentially dangerous. The way he always does when this question occurs, he quickly banishes it from his mind. “How are you settling in?” he asks, fully aware of the answer. They share a cabin, after all, and Gwen’s spent enough years at Camp Campbell to have the routine down to a science; within minutes of hopping off the bus QM rented for the summer, she’s mostly unpacked, changed into her counselors’ uniform, and begun a critical sweep of the camp’s supplies and paperwork.

She makes a noncommittal noise, rubbing the sleep from one eye with the heel of her hand and trying to shield herself from the sun with the other. “Are you ready? The stores are gonna be full of families getting shit for the summer -- it’ll be like Black Friday, so we’ve gotta be in and out as soon as the Tradin’ Post opens unless you’re prepared to deck some soccer moms.”

He resists the urge to smile; she might not believe in the power of the beginning-of-summer rituals, but this optimistic plan for their camping supply trip is as much a staple of every summer as David’s sand writing. “Sounds like a swell plan, Gwen.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she mutters, but he catches a half-smile before she turns her back on the lake. “Come on, get dressed and meet me in the Mess Hall. I’ll start inventory.” As he falls into step beside her, she glances over at him, raising her eyebrows. “Morning swim?”

He shrugs, turning to survey the empty campground. “Basically!”

“Sure. Seems like something you’d do.” She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, already fixated on the task at hand. “Just hurry up so we can get out of here. If you think you’re gonna make me do all the hard jobs by myself, I’ve got a guitar with your face written all over it.”

David laughs before he can stop himself. “There it is,” he murmurs, causing her to glance over curiously.

“Huh?”

“Nothing! I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Might as well start by seeing what food we have, right?” As he ducks into the counselor’s cabin, he catches a glimpse of her hair, glinting like copper in the early-morning light, and his heart lifts.

There it is.

Writing the camp’s motto in the sand and water is important to him, a silly little consecration ritual that marks the line between his life outside of Camp Campbell and the endless, magical months of summer. He’s done it ever since he was a junior counselor; it feels like staking a claim on the only perfect place that’s ever existed, like writing his name on the heart of the earth. Even if he technically owns the camp now -- something that felt too bizarre and wonderful to make sense last summer and if anything is only more strange after an entire year -- no amount of signatures or invoices capture the simple power of the words “campe diem” on Lake Lilac.

But for David, the summer doesn’t really begin until Gwen tells him she needs him. Never in those exact words, of course . . . but he’s gotten pretty good at reading between her lines, and she’s never exactly been subtle.

He tightens his bandanna around his neck, smiling at his reflection. Get out there and help your CBFL, David. Campe diem.

The wheels that help spring become summer begin turning.

---

“Okay.” Gwen groans, rolling her shoulders; there are some ominous pops and cracks, but she doesn’t look like she’s dislocated anything so David assumes everything’s fine. “I’ll “Okay. This is okay.” Gwen runs a hand through her hair, grimacing as her fingers get caught in tangles. She’s still in her pajamas, a smear of dirt along her thigh from crawling around the supply shed, but she’s so single-minded David isn’t sure she’s even aware of what she’s wearing. (He makes a quick mental note to remind her to change before they leave, because when she gets hyperfocused like this, it’s easy to see her blasting down the shelves of the Sleepy Peak Tradin’ Post in bare feet and oversized paisley boxer shorts.) “We can’t afford literally anything we need. Just like every summer. This is gonna be a disaster, but that’s okay.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder, figuring now isn’t a good time for a hug. “It’ll be fine,” he tries. He scans over their shopping list and tries to imagine a way they can stretch their budget to cover it all; then he remembers that he doesn’t know what their budget is, because Gwen takes care of that, and feels a faint spike of panic jam itself between his ribs. “Let’s ask Mr. Campbell if --”

“Don’t even think about it, kiddo. The government already cleaned me out.” Mr. Campbell slouches into the room, tugging at the trapdoor in the Mess Hall ceiling that leads to the attic. “Those brothers found every last hiding place I had. Apparently it’s being used to repay my ‘debts to society,’ if you can believe it.”

“I can,” Gwen mutters, gaze darting around the Mess Hall as though hoping a sign saying “Free Money Here” will appear out of the blue. She hurries into the back room, where they’ve managed to convert a closet into something resembling an office.

David’s distracted by something else, though. “Brothers?” he repeats, hurrying to help Mr. Campbell lower the spring-down ladder from the ceiling.

“Yeah, those suits from Washington. You’ve met them a hundred times -- sunglasses, terrible fashion sense. The secret agent guys.”

“Um, sir --” he’s not supposed to call Mr. Campbell “sir” anymore, since he’s technically the boss now, but it’s a surprisingly tough habit to kick, “-- if you mean Agent and Agent Miller . . . they’re not brothers.”

He frowns down at David, frozen halfway up to the attic like he’s scaling a mountain. “Of course they are! Or are you going to tell me it’s a coincidence that they have the same last name?”

David shrugs awkwardly, kind of wishing he hadn’t said anything. “They’re married, sir.”

“Really?” His brows furrow. “And that’s legal here now?” David nods. “Go figure. Well, good for them.”

Gwen bursts back into the Mess Hall with a scrap of paper, snatching her phone off one of the tables. “Agent Miller?” she says after a moment, and her tone abruptly melts into honey. “It’s Gwen Santos! You know, from Camp Campbell? Yeah, it’s great to hear from you, too! How’s the weather over there?”

The rattling sound of the ladder being drawn back up into the attic startles David, making him jump and glance away from the conversation. He frowns up at the closed trapdoor -- he’s pretty sure Mr. Campbell is telling the truth about his stashes of money, but it’d be nice if he at least tried to help -- then crosses over to the safe in the corner. (It’s empty, of course, but he wants to feel like he’s doing something useful.)

Meanwhile, Gwen’s voice still sounds like it’s made of spun sugar: “Things are wonderful over here! We’re taking good care of everything. Actually, that’s part of why I was calling . . . I noticed Ered’s coming back this summer?” A moment of silence, then a bubbly laugh. “Well, we’re certainly excited to have her here! The thing is . . .”

A few minutes later she ends the call, immediately jumping into the air and spiking her phone into the couch. “That’s how it’s done!” she crows, dancing in a circle. “I -- am -- the -- best!” Each word is punctuated by punching the air, and then she twirls around again.

Her eyes land on David as she finishes spinning. It’s like a bucket of water was dumped on her head -- her shoulders slump, her arms fall to her sides, and it even seems like the brilliant violet of her eyes turns duller.

“Oh. Hey, David.”

He forces a smile, rising to his feet and wincing as his knees crack. “That sounds like good news!” he says, wondering if there’s a way to tell her he doesn’t mind seeing her happy without it making everything awkward and weird.

She brightens a bit, rescuing her phone from where it lodged itself between the couch cushions. “Yeah. Turns out the Millers are really happy with you for taking care of Campbell all year. They’re Venmo-ing the camp some cash. Probably not enough for most of the stuff we need, but we can cut it down to the essentials.”

“That’s amazing!” He doesn’t entirely know what she accomplished, but it sounds encouraging. “Gwen, you’re incredible!”

She shrugs, her cheeks flushing pink. “Whatever,” she mumbles, then raises her voice almost to a shout. “It’s crazy what great things can happen when you’re not breaking the law all the time!”

Mr. Campbell’s voice is muffled by the closed door: “Give it a rest, Gina!”

Gwen rolls her eyes, but her attempt to look annoyed is dampened slightly by the smile that keeps tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What a dick. Come on, David, let’s get out of here.”

When she emerges from the cabin, dressed like a Camp Campbell counselor for the first time this summer, he looks up from his phone with a smile. “Campe diem, Gwen!” he says, giving her the Camp Campbell salute. Her response is just to shake her head, which is about all he expected. “You look great!”

She gives him a strange look as she slides into the driver’s side of the campmobile. “I look like this all the time, David.”

And she looks great all the time, but he knows better than to say that out loud. “Camp Campbell has a Venmo?” he asks instead (he looked it up while she was getting changed).

“Yes, Brother David. It’s one of those boring grown-up things I did while you were playing in the dirt last summer. No need to thank me.”

Well, she said he doesn’t need to thank her, so he chooses not to. That’s just the kind of thing Gwen does, after all, and once again he wonders how they’d get by if she was able to find a better job.

We’d figure it out, he tells himself, looking out the window as the camp falls behind them. But not this summer.

He has one more year of grace, anyway.

She’s here, and he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

---

Even though Gwen says she doesn’t have any rituals, there are a few things that they have to do every summer, the day before all the campers arrive. Inventory coupled with a panicked last-minute shopping trip is one of them. Listening to strange music at earth-shaking volumes on the drive to and from town is another.

“Yeah, girl, it's true, I'm into you, but these benzos, they got me feeling loose --”

David’s tempted to cover his ears -- it cannot be good for his eardrums; he didn’t even know the volume knob went this high! -- but if he does that, he might block out Gwen’s voice. There are very few situations where she’s willing to sing with an audience, and the car ride into town is one of those rare occasions.

He sits back, watching her shimmy her shoulders in time to the music, painting the air with the hand not on the steering wheel in strange gestures that are half conducting and half gang signs --

“Why don't you come through, before I Goku -- fuck this white pill and go super xan!”

-- and decides, like he does every year, that this is worth the risk of moderate hearing loss.

As they pull up in front of the store (despite Gwen’s dire warnings, the street is as empty always), she switches the music off. David tries to convince himself the ringing in his ears is all in his head, and that he isn’t going to suddenly wake up deaf. He mostly succeeds.

“Okay, David.” Gwen stops directly in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders. It suddenly feels like there’s a snake constricting around his chest, and his next breath stutters and doesn’t seem to pull in enough air. She doesn’t notice, narrowing her eyes at him as though he was one of their poorly-behaved campers. “We have a list.” She waves it between their faces for emphasis.

He swallows, nodding. “We do.”

“We’re sticking to the list.”

David nods, resisting the urge to laugh. “Of course we are,” he says; he hadn’t intended for his remark to sound sarcastic but can’t be entirely disappointed that it does.

“We’re not buying anything unless it’s on this list, got it?”

“Got it, Gwen!”

“Good.” She takes a step back and punches his arm lightly. “Let’s go, CBFL.”

As he follows her into the store, he couldn’t keep from smiling if he tried.

---

“Wasn’t that fun?”

Gwen groans, shoving the last of the bags into the car (David reminds himself yet again to put his reusable shopping bags in the campmobile so they don’t spend another summer gathering dust under his bed) and slamming the door shut. “Swear to god I’m gonna get a leash for you,” she grumbles, putting her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment before starting the car. “I’ll order one from a kink website or something and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a close thing. “I don’t think that’s necessary . . .”

“Oh, yeah?” She lifts her head to give him a sideways glare. “How many knives did we buy?”

“Two.”

“And how many knives were on the list?”

Okay, she’s made her point. “But Gwen, one of them is specially engineered for whittling!” He digs through the bags until he recovers it, holding it up to her. “I’ve always wanted to try whittling!”

“‘Specially engineered’ is a bullshit term used to sell stuff to idiots, David. And the other one . . .”

“Is . . . well . . .” Okay, so he doesn’t have an exact use for it yet. But he likes being prepared, and it’s important to have tools on-hand. “The box says you could shave with it! Isn’t that cool?”

She taps on the steering wheel impatiently. “Are you planning on shaving with it?” she asks, deadpan.

“No.” But he could.

Gwen snorts, starting the car. “Well, you’re gonna have to explain to the campers why we’re using the same old watered-down paint as last year.” She pulls an imitation of him that’s disturbingly accurate. “‘Golly gee, sorry about that, kids! But look at this cool knife I got instead!’”

That hardly seems fair, but he doesn’t have a good comeback. Knives aren’t cheap, it’s true, and he hates the thought that the camp will suffer because of him. “I mean, when you put it like that . . .” he mutters, looking out the window to avoid her accusing gaze.

There’s a moment of silence. Then her arm lands heavily around his shoulders, pulling him into a sudden half-hug. By the time he’s registered what’s happening, she’s taken her arm back and gently shoved him back to his side of the car. “It’s fine, David,” she says with a sigh, her face slightly pink. “I didn’t have to buy Nights with the Wolf Queen, either.”

He doesn’t point out that a grocery-store paperback is hardly as much of an expense as two wilderness knives, mostly because he doesn’t want her to realize it herself. So he takes the olive branch and smiles at her before reaching to the dashboard and turning the music back on.

Noise explodes through the car, making both of them jump even though they knew it was going to happen. Gwen’s surprise immediately dissolves into delight, and even though she doesn’t thank him outright, she bobs her head and drums on the steering wheel to the beat, and that feels like thanks enough.

“Robbing banks, knock it off! Not saying thanks, knock it off!”

David perks up, tilting his head to hear better (not that he needs to, since the music is currently drilling its way into his skull). “Hey, I like this one!” he says. Why didn’t they start with this song?

Gwen glances at him for a second before returning her eyes to the road, clearly trying not to smile. “Would it even matter if I tell you this is sarcastic?”

It wouldn’t, and they both know it.

---

David takes a step back, holding up his phone and fiddling with the zoom. This is another important part of beginning the season; the supply room will never be this full or tidy for the rest of the summer, and their hard work deserves to be documented before it all gets undone. “Looks perfect!”

So perfect, in fact, that it needs to be uploaded to Instagram. Right now!

“Yeah?” Gwen huffs, slumping against a pile of unmade tents nearly as tall as they are. She must’ve dragged it out of the shed while he was sharing his photo. “I’m so glad you’re doing the important stuff while I slack off.”

If that’s sarcasm, he chooses to ignore it. “Don’t say that! You’ve done a great job today!” She groans loudly -- so it was sarcasm, good to know -- but takes the other end of the tarp holding all the tents and helps him drag it out to the field. The sun hovers just above the trees, golden-yellow and almost thick enough to touch, and his stomach grumbles as they survey the campgrounds. “Do you want to have dinner first, or . . .”

“Fuck that.” She grabs a tent and slings it over her shoulder. Her face and neck glisten with sweat, and she impatiently brushes the strands of hair that’ve escaped her ponytail out of her face. She looks unkempt and beautiful, like a lumberjack, or a viking. “If I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up. Let’s just finish this shit.”

Her language leaves a little to be desired, but her logic is sound. The tents are meant to be put up by and for children, so they aren’t too difficult to set up, but most of them have taken damage between the last summer and storage, so the process keeps stalling to fix broken rods and quick-sew patches over holes in the fabric (David’s job, mostly; Gwen isn’t much of a seamstress). The air is a gloomy indigo by the time they finish, cooling down just enough to make their sweat-damp clothes miserable. “Why don’t you take the first shower?” he offers as they walk back. “I’ll start dinner.”

“My hero,” she quips, veering off toward the counselors’ cabin. David shrugs off his discomfort and exhaustion, forcing a skip into his step as he heads into the Mess Hall.

This is their final ritual before the campers arrive tomorrow, and he wants everything to be perfect.

---

“Hmm?” He cups his free hand around his ear, gently twirling his stick over the fire. As much as he wants to look over at Gwen, he has to keep his attention on roasting his hot dog. The last thing he wants is to deal with another exploded dinner. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

She snorts and throws a marshmallow at his head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“No, I’m just not sure I heard you correctly! Because it sounded like maybe you were saying you were wrong about something --”

“Very cute,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

“-- and that, consequently, I was right!” He grins at her, removing his (cooked to perfection) hot dog from the fire and transferring it to a bun.

“Sounds like you’re saying you wanna be hit in the face with a flaming hot dog, Greenwood.”

He leans forward and gently takes the stick from her hand, saving her food from its fiery doom. “I just think it’s swell that you’re willing to admit when you’re wrong, Gwen.”

“Give that back! It’s not done cooking.”

“It’s overcooking!”

“And that’s how I like it!” She snatches back her stick and holds it to the center of the flames, shooting him a defiant glare. A moment later there’s a loud pop; they throw themselves to the ground to avoid the burning shrapnel of the exploded hot dog, which light up the air like fireworks before sizzling harmlessly out in the dirt.

They both sit up, brushing themselves off, and take their seats around the campfire again. David waits a minute before saying, “This might be another good opportunity to practice owning up to your mistakes.”

She shoves his shoulder, laughing. “Let’s see you do it better.”

He does, knowing and not caring that she’s gotten him to do all the work for her. The fire is a lovely contrast to the chilly night, and he feels warm and glowing all over.

After dinner they crowd themselves into one of the campers’ tents, rolling out sleeping bags on the floor next to the child-sized cots. Gwen sprawls out across hers, stretching like a cat. “Hell of a last supper.”

He knows what she means, but he isn’t comfortable sharing her dread over three months of meals cooked by the Quartermaster. At least, not out loud. Instead he crawls back outside, recovering the two steaming mugs he pilfered from the Mess Hall and bringing them into the tent. “Here you go!”

She sits up and takes the hot chocolate, curling both hands around it despite the heat. “Well, since I’m apparently on a roll here,” she says, taking a sip and sighing happily, “I guess I have to admit that this is a really good way to start the summer.”

David quickly takes a drink as well, hiding his smile behind the mug. “So I was right about that as well?”

“Okay, don’t milk it,” she snaps, but there’s no real malice in her voice. She leans back against one of the cots, wincing at the screech of metal shifting, and tilts her head up to the ceiling, as though she can see through the fabric to the stars beyond. “I had a lot of fun today,” she says after a moment. Setting her drink to the side, she tugs the elastic out of her ponytail; in the white light of their lantern, with her hair falling in loose, fluffy waves down to her shoulders, she looks soft and almost ethereal, like a princess in a fairy tale. “Thanks, David.”

She meets his eyes, the light turning them a silvery lavender, and looking at her is suddenly too much so he turns his attention to his drink. “No problem, CBFL,” he says, taking a deep breath and wishing his heart wasn’t beating so fast. He opens his mouth to say something else but it turns out there’s nothing else he has to say so he shuts it again, feeling stupid.

For a few minutes they’re quiet, drinking their hot chocolate in companionable silence. At least, David hopes it’s companionable -- he’s not exactly sure how to measure companionableness, but it seems friendly enough so he’s going to do his best not to overthink it. That’s what Gwen would tell him, he knows, and she has a degree in psychology so she definitely knows what she’s talking about more than he does.

Thank goodness he’s not talking out loud; it’s embarrassing enough that he’s babbling in his own mind . . . oh no, what if he has been talking out loud this entire time? What has he said?!

“David?” His gaze snaps up to her, but she doesn’t look annoyed or creeped out so he probably hasn’t been saying anything too weird, at least, and probably hasn’t been talking out loud at all so that’s good but her expression is alarmingly serious and she hasn’t said anything else and it’s been at least ten seconds that they’ve just been looking at each other but he’s not sure what she wants so -- “Let me know if I’m reading this wrong.”

“Reading?” he manages weakly. He feels strangely disconnected from his body as he watches her set her mug aside and cross the small space to kneel in front of him. Her hand alights on his shoulder, fluttery and weightless as a hummingbird, and she seems a little close and a lot beautiful and if he’s not extremely careful she’s going to figure out all the things he’s put so much work into not letting her figure out -- try not to feel at all, but it’s hard to keep his composure and not look at her mouth when it’s so close and there’s no camp activities or pre-camp activities or post-camp activities to distract them both with, just quiet and breathing and soft white lantern light and her hand on his shoulder, and he’s always considered himself able to multitask pretty well but this feels like too much so he squeezes his eyes shut . . .

The kiss takes him entirely by surprise. One moment he’s bracing himself for a confrontation, questions he doesn’t know how to answer, and the next moment is filled with Gwen -- her lips soft and slightly chapped against his and her fingers tightening on his shoulder and the coconutty smell of her shampoo all around him and he’s a little worried that he’s having a heart attack but gosh, jeez, fuck it, he kisses her back.

And she doesn’t shove him away or demand to know what in the name of fun he thinks he’s doing; she lets out a weak little huff of air that lands somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, her mouth opens just slightly, and she shifts forward, her arms twining over his shoulders. One hand slides into his hair, the gentle scrape of her fingernails shivering from his scalp down his spine, and it occurs to him that he can touch her as well, that he’s not only apparently allowed but actually probably should. Slowly, both so she has plenty of him to stop him and in a futile attempt to stop his fingers from shaking, he lifts his hand to her neck, gingerly cupping around the base of her head and running his thumb along the space behind her ear. She gasps against his lips, but she doesn’t pull away so he assumes it’s a good gasp and repeats the motion, and when her tongue flicks against his bottom lip like a question he opens his mouth, because he’s never been very good at saying no to her for anything and he sure as sugar has no intention of starting now.

David’s not sure how much time passes before she pulls back, but even though he feels cold and bereft everywhere they’re no longer touching it’s probably for the best, because he doesn’t realize how lightheaded he is until he opens his eyes and has to wait for the world to shudder into place. She sits on her heels, biting her lower lip; he lets his hand fall away from her, and in a second they’re disconnected, apart.

“Well.” She chuckles weakly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “That was . . .”

A mistake, his brain finishes, and his stomach drops in miserable anticipation.

In fact, he’s so prepared for those devastating words that he almost misses what she actually says: “unexpected, huh?”

It takes him a moment to register that, to recalibrate, so his response is a bit too late, just a little bit awkward: “I -- definitely didn’t see it coming.”

“That’s because your eyes were closed,” she says with a grimace, like she regrets the lame joke even before she’s finished saying it; but it melts so seamlessly into a smile, small and self-conscious and unexpected and perfect, that he forgets what words are, let alone that he’s supposed to say some to continue the conversation.

With a nervous glance at him, Gwen scuttles back to her side of the tent, picking up her mug of hot chocolate.

“Sorry, was that totally inappropriate?” she asks, responding before he can. “I mean, of course it was, you’re technically my boss, I don’t know what -- I just thought I was -- there were some signals -- weren’t there? Was that . . . okay?”

The enormous stupidity of the question finally surprises him into speaking. “Okay? That was . . .” the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. “Very. Okay -- it was completely okay. Better than okay, it was . . . you know, good. Nice. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Her smile widens, visible even as she covers her mouth with one hand. “Really?” she says, suddenly like she’s blurting it out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He’s so sure that he shuffles forward on his knees, most likely looking like a total idiot, until he’s in front of her again. He doesn’t have the courage to kiss her so he takes one of her hands, turning it over and examining how beautiful it is, how lovely it looks contrasted with his pale fingers. He strokes the backs of her knuckles, marveling at how soft her skin is even after a day of hard work, and tries to remember how to breathe.

Gwen puts her other hand under his chin, forcing him to look up, and kisses him again.

It’s a bit less gentle than the first time, both her mouth and her fingers hot and insistent as they press against him, and he loses his balance, falling onto his back with a small yelp of surprise. She follows him down without breaking the kiss, lowering herself to her elbows and covering his body with hers. He’s distantly aware of a dull ceramic clunk, but he doesn’t really take notice of what it means until a few moments later, when something lukewarm and wet seeps into the hem of his pajama pants.

“Shit!” She rolls off of him, righting the mug of no-longer-hot chocolate and scrambling for the napkins left over from dinner. “Fuck, it’s everywhere.”

He tugs her sleeping bag away from the spill, but it’s already soaked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock it over!”

She shakes her head, sitting back and surveying the damage. “No, I think I did it. It’s fine, the dirt’ll soak it up. But it’s gonna bring ants, so we’re going to have to give this tent to the campers we hate the most. I vote Max.”

“Gwen!” He can’t quite make that sound as disapproving as he should. He scoops up the wet napkins and drags her wet sleeping bag outside. “I’ll go put this in the wash right now.”

She glances at her watch, then back up at him. “It’s almost midnight, David. I’m not staying up until that’s clean, it’ll take all night.”

He knows she’s right -- the machine they rely on for the camp’s laundry is the same one they’ve had since he was a junior counselor, and runs extremely slowly -- and disappointment makes his shoulders slump. “We can sleep in the cabin, then. That’s no problem.”

When he returns from the laundry, yawning, Gwen isn’t in the counselors’ cabin like he expected. She’s not by the dying embers of the campfire, or in the tent. The sleeping bag, it turns out, isn’t in there either, nor are the lantern and the mugs of hot chocolate. He opens his mouth to whisper-call her name (it’s spooky with the fire out) --

“David!”

He jumps, covering his mouth to muffle a noise that was definitely not a scream, and turns to see Gwen leaning out of one of the other campers’ tents, half-hidden by shadows. She gestures him over and disappears back into the tent.

Shaking off his alarm, he ducks inside to see Gwen bundled up in the sleeping bag on the ground, with the other supplies well out of reach. “Oh,” he says, not sure exactly what he’s looking at. “Um, should I . . . sleep on one of the cots?” It’d be uncomfortable, but he’d rather shiver through a night curled up on a too-small bed than go back to the cabin alone.

She rolls her eyes at him and wriggles to the side, unzipping the bag halfway. “Get in before you let all the warm out.”

Oh. His face flushes hot and he has to look down at his feet for a moment to compose himself.

Well, he’s hardly going to refuse, is he?

It’s a bit of a close fit, but he manages to slide in alongside her. She turns onto her side, slinging one arm over his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Is this okay?” she mumbles, already sounding like she’s halfway to falling asleep.

He has to swallow twice before he can answer. “Y-yes. This is fine.” He can already tell that it’ll get unbearably warm soon -- Gwen’s pressed against his side and radiating heat like a furnace -- but her weight on his chest is solid and comforting and he knows he won’t be moving an inch until the sun rises, not unless she tells him to.

She’s quiet for long enough that he thinks she’s fallen asleep.

“Sorry.”

It’s so soft he freezes in the darkness, trying to figure out if that was his imagination or not. When she lifts her head, nothing more than a black vaguely-Gwen-shaped blob, he recovers and says, “Why?”

“I know this whole pre-summer hot chocolate thing is really important to you. It kinda sucks that I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything!” He sits up on his elbows, tentatively reaching out to stroke her hair. His fingertips brush against her forehead and she ducks slightly, letting him pet her hair without poking an eye out. “I know it hasn’t exactly started yet,” he says, flopping back down so she can rest her head on his shoulder again, “but I think this might be the best summer ever.”

“You say that every summer.”

He smiles up at nothing. “And I mean it every summer.”

There’s silence for a moment, then he feels her press a light kiss against his neck. “Call me optimistic, but you might be onto something this year, anyway.”

“Wow,” he says, blowing out a huff of air. “Admitting I’m right three times in one day. I hope it doesn’t keep up like this or I’ll get a swelled head!”

He doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s glaring at him, and that small knowledge makes him indescribably happy. “No danger of that happening.”

“I know.” It’s one of his favorite things about her.

Her breathing evens out as she falls asleep, soft and slightly nasal. It’s another sound he associates with his time spent at Camp Campbell, although never so close, never with her hair tickling his cheek and her hand splayed over his heart like she’s protecting it. He’s used to letting her breathing lull him to sleep from across the room -- but he thinks he could get used to this, if he has the chance.

(He’d like the chance to get used to this.)

David closes his eyes and enjoys the last moments of peace they have, before the kids arrive and the camp explodes into a delightful frenzy of sound and chaos.

Let the summer begin.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvid #cc david #cc gwen #gwenvidweek #gwenvidweek2020 #forestwriting

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