#I never make my own usually but I felt a mighty need to talk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missgeniality · 3 years

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Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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engie-ivy · 3 years

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Marlene’s little brother has a thing for Sirius, because who doesn't have a thing for Sirius? Marlene is freaking out, and everyone thinks it's just hilarious. Remus would've thought it was hilarious too, had Marlene’s little brother not been very close in age, cute, witty, and oh so bloody charming.

Somewhat longer fic that will be added to my Crush Confessions Series! 3756 words, so not that long. Wolfstar Fluff, of course😎

Muggle Charms

James Potter’s garden party is the event of the summer. Everyone gets together at the Potter estate for a day of listening to music, swimming in the lake (yes, there’s a lake on the grounds of the Potter estate), and playing friendly Quidditch matches. Mrs Potter walks around with all sorts of delicious foods, James and Sirius fly their brooms above the lake and make bets who dares to jump off from the greatest height, Mary and Emmeline are sunbathing and make bets who will need to be healed first.

It had started the summer after first year with just the four Marauders, but every year, their number has grown, and this year is the largest group thus far.

Marlene McKinnon is last to arrive, and, as usual, her arrival doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Everyone, come meet my little brother!” She shouts across the field.

The McKinnons have four children. Marlene’s mother and two of her siblings are Muggles, while the rest have magical abilities. Marlene’s sister is the oldest of the siblings. She’s a Muggle who works as a primary school teacher. Despite growing up with a father who’s a wizard, she has always felt slightly uncomfortable around magic, but she loves her family fiercely and is very protective over her younger siblings. As she’s much older than Marlene, she has always been more like a second mother.

Next comes Marlene’s older brother, who’s wizard, but has finished Hogwarts long ago. He now works in the Sales Department for a company that develops novel potions against levitation- and portkey-sickness. According to Marlene he’s a serious businessman by day, and a giant goofball by night.

Last is Marlene’s younger brother. He’s a Muggle, but where Marlene’s sister likes to pretend magic doesn’t exist, he thinks it mighty fascinating. He and Marlene are incredibly close, writing each other constantly and hanging out as often as they can when Marlene was home from Hogwarts. She has never brought him to James’ garden party, though. He works in the Food Service Industry, and the bright summer days on which James plans his parties are the days on which he most likely has to work. This year, however, he had managed to get the day off.

The first thing Remus thinks is that the McKinnons have good genes. He can’t really tell which of the two siblings is older, which means they must be very close in age. The boy has the same thick, blond hair and bright blue eyes as Marlene, as well as the same freckles from the sun. He’s short for a guy, barely taller than Marlene, but he’s quite muscular, with broad shoulders. All in all, Marlene’s younger brother is a very cute guy.

“Everyone, this is Miles!” Marlene says, when everyone has gathered around. “Let’s see... Here we have James Potter, he’s the host.”

Miles grins at James. “Some house you’ve got here, mate. Thanks for having me!”

James grins back and lifts his beer. “Cheers, mate!”

“James is Lily’s boyfriend,” Marlene says. “You’ve already met Lily-” Miles gives Lily a warm smile “-and of course you know Dorcas.”

“Hullo Dorky.”

“Hiya Miley.”

“And here we have my other girls, Alice Fortescue, Mary McDonald and Emmeline Vance.” Marlene points each of the girls out, and Miles gives them all a friendly nod.

“And these two are the Prewetts, Fabian and Gideon- don’t worry about who’s who, none of us actually knows.”

“Oi!”

“And this is Caradoc Dearborn, and this Benjy Fenwick, so miraculously you’re not the shortest guy here.”

“Marlene!”

“And here we have the rest of the renegades, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black.”

The chance in Miles is instant.

The polite smile he was wearing turns into a coy smile, as he gives Sirius a not-so-subtle once-over, though Remus doesn’t think it was ever meant to be subtle. Miles takes a step forward towards Sirius. “Well, hello there.”

Remus can’t blame him. He would’ve reacted the same had he been in Miles’ position (alright, maybe he would’ve turned into a blushing, stuttering mess and forget his own name if he were suddenly faced with a guy like Sirius, instead of step forward with an enticing smile and flirtatious greeting, but that’s beside the point). Sirius looks bloody amazing. His swimming trunks are clinging to his legs, and his damp hair is hanging over his bare chest, with little droplets dripping down his muscular body.

Sirius grins knowingly at Miles. “Hi.”

Marlene’s head whirls around from Miles to Sirius to Miles and back to Sirius, so fast Remus worries she might get a whiplash.

“No,” she says. “No, nope, uh-uh, absolutely not. Not. Happening. No.”

She steps between her brother and Sirius, facing the latter, and jabbing a finger against his chest. “You are not going to try anything on my little brother, got it?”

Sirius holds up his hands and takes a step back. “I only said hi.”

Marlene looks at him suspiciously, like she suspects Sirius saying hi is some sort of secret seduction technique (which would actually explain a lot).

“C’mon Marls.” Miles moves to stand next to his sister, and throws an arm over her shoulder. He winks at Sirius. “We all just want to have a good time, don’t we?”

Marlene’s face is getting more red by the second. Her fingers are clutching her cardboard plate, causing it to rumple. She’s clenching her jaw, while intently staring at the pair a bit further on the field.

“I can’t bloody believe it,” she hisses. “If Black thinks I’ll let him hook up with my little brother, he has another thing coming!”

Miles had managed to catch Sirius when he went to grab a drink, and they have been chatting apart from the rest of the group for about half an hour now, to Marlene’s great distress, and everyone else’s amusement. Well, everyone else except for Remus, but he thinks he’s been hiding it quite well.

Remus doesn’t know how the guy does it, but Miles somehow manages to stand closer and closer to Sirius. He’s looking up at him through his lashes, with those big blue eyes and that damned smile, sometimes even going as far as to bite his lip. Sirius has definitely been blushing at some point!

While Remus is the only one who can emphasize with Marlene’s distress over the situation, he really doesn’t like how she’s blaming it all on Sirius, while evidently its her brother who’s acting like a little minx.

“Honestly, Marlene,” Lily says, shaking her head. “Didn’t you talk to Miles about there being an incredibly hot, single gay guy present?”

Remus agrees. Marlene should’ve known what would happen when she decided to introduce her brother to Sirius! You cannot bring him here knowing Sirius is looking like he does, and expect him not to react!

Marlene huffs indignantly. “My little brother is a precious angel who’s not interested in such a thing as ‘hot, single men’!”

Lily looks at Miles and Sirius. Miles seems to be laughing at something Sirius said, and touches his upper arm while doing so, letting his hand slide down Sirius’ bicep. Lily turns her head back to Marlene and raises her eyebrow.

Marlene just folds her arms over her chest and pointedly looks away.

Later, when Miles reaches up to brush a strand of hair from Sirius’ face, Marlene’s face has taken on a more purple colour. By this time, she has started angrily chewing on her cardboard plate.

Luckily, everyone’s too busy making fun of Marlene to notice Remus looks like he’s going to be sick.

Normally, a day at the Potter estate flies by, but Remus is positive this day lasts at least three times as long. But Remus has been getting through it. He hopes that after today, he won’t see Miles McKinnon of ever again. Well, he mostly hopes Sirius won’t see Miles McKinnon ever again, he can admit that . To himself, that is.

Currently, he’s sitting down with James, having a butterbeer. Just when he thinks he might make it through these last hours without further additions to his misery, Marlene comes striding their way, Dorcas on her heels.

“Potter,” she says, stopping in front of them and placing her fists on her hips. “You’ve got something I need, and I want it now!”

“Sorry McKinnon,” James says with a smirk. “I’m a one woman man.”

“In your dreams, you wanker,” Marlene snaps. “You’ve got an Invisibility Cloak, no?”

James takes off his glasses and starts polishing them with his robes. “I may or may not possess such a thing.”

Marlene rolls her eyes. “After seven years of going to school with you, I think I can safely say that you do. Well, I need you to use it. Miles asked Black to take him on a tour around the lake.” She scrunches up her nose. “And you have to follow them so you can report back to me whether Black has kept his paws off of my little brother!”

“More the other way around,” Remus mutters, but Marlene hears and glares at him.

“My sweet and innocent little brother would never do such a thing! He simply... wants to see the surroundings and needs Black for directions.”

Dorcas throws her head back and cackles loudly. “The only directions your ‘sweet and innocent little brother’ is interested in, is the fastest way to get into Sirius Black’s pants!”

Marlene directs a deadly glare at her.

Just when Remus thinks at least Dorcas knows what she’s talking about, she continues. “C’mon Marls, Miles can make his own decisions. Let the boys have some fun!”

Let the boys have some fun? That’s not a good idea! That’s the opposite of a good idea! That’s a terrible idea!

“Well,” Remus says, managing to sound surprisingly calm. “We’re on Mr and Mrs Potter’s property, and Miles has only just been introduced to the gang. I mean, he and Sirius barely know each other. I’d say it’d be rather inappropriate if something happens between them here and now. You don’t want Marlene’s brother to give off the wrong impression.”

James sighs. “What if I lend you the Invisibility Cloak, and you can follow them yourself?”

“Oh, no!” Marlene holds up her hands and takes a step back. “There are certain things I don’t ever want to see my little brother do, or hear my little brother say. If I were to... accidentally stumble upon them, I’d either have to Obliviate myself, or be scarred for life.”

Remus snorts. Not so sure about her brother being so innocent after all, is she?

“Well, Padfoot’s my brother!” James argues.

“Remember when I put in a good word for you with Lily, and finally got her to agree to go on a date with you?” Marlene plays her final card, and effectively.

“Fine!” James puts down his butterbeer and gets up. “Remus, let’s go.”

“What? Me? Why?”

“Because you got me into this, Mr ‘it’d be inappropriate’. And besides, I’ll feel like some perverted Peeping Tom spying on them alone.”

“So better to have two Peeping Toms?” Remus argues, but he knows it’s an argument he’s not going to win.

That’s how Remus finds himself in the place he wants to be least of all, crouched down under the Invisibility Cloak with James, and, after casting a quick Silencio over their footsteps, following on Sirius and Miles on their ‘casual, totally not romantic, definitely not a date’ stroll.

“-and once I’ve gained enough experience, I’d like to come back to London and open my own restaurant!” Miles finishes.

“That’s amazing, Miles!” Sirius exclaims. “I’ll definitely frequent!”

“As long as you don’t expect any free food just because you’re so handsome,” Miles teases.

Sirius gasps in pretend-shock. “I would never use my looks for such purposes!”

“Right,” Miles chuckles. “You be careful, Sirius Black. A face like yours is a powerful weapon.”

“Wow,” James whispers admiringly. “He’s good!”

Remus grits his teeth. Of bloody course Miles McKinnon is all charming and smooth, chatting Sirius up.

“What about you?” Miles asks. “What are your plans for the future, now that you’re some kind of strong and powerful wizard?”

“I’m starting my Healer training soon!” Sirius beams, and Remus can’t help but smile at the pride in his voice.

“That’s... like a doctor, right?” Miles asks.

“Yeah,” Sirius replies. “But without the cutting people open.” He shudders. “Definitely no cutting people open.”

“Oi!” Miles protests, bumping his shoulder against Sirius. “Doctors cut people open to save lives, you know. They don’t do it for a laugh.”

“I’m sorry!” Sirius quickly says. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s actually very impressive what Muggle doctors can do without magic, and the things they’ve come up with! I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Miles says, glancing at Sirius. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sirius smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just... I was raised in this really conservative pureblood Wizarding family. I’m always afraid I’ll say something Muggle-phobic without realising.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t that bad, honestly.”

“Good,” Sirius says, relieved. “I’m just... trying to be better.”

Miles smiles softly at him. “Just the fact that you’re trying already makes you better.”

They walk in comfortable silence for a moment, until Miles speaks again. “That must’ve been hard though, growing up in a family like that. Marlene already mentioned you’re living here now. Is that why?”

Sirius nods. “I ran away from home the summer before. Best decision I’ve ever made.” There’s a tightness in his voice, though, and an emotion in his eyes that makes Remus want to run towards him and pull him into a hug.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Miles says sincerely. Then he gives Sirius a teasing smile. “Though I must say, it’s a good look on you, the whole ‘sexy rebel’-thing.”

Sirius barks a laugh, and the pained expression slides off his face. “Well, I’m glad my issues at least fit my anaesthetic!”

Remus doesn’t know whether he wants to bless Miles McKinnon for being able to turn Sirius’ mood around and make him smile, or whether he wants to curse Miles McKinnon for being able to turn Sirius’ mood around and make him smile.

“I bet you love provoking your family, don’t you?” Miles asks.

“That might just be my most favourite pastime,” Sirius replies sincerely.

Suddenly, Miles stops walking, so Sirius stops as well and turns back to face him.

Miles takes a step towards him. “I bet it would really provoke your family if you were to make out with a boy, a Muggle boy at that.”

Sirius swallows and his face slightly flushes. “That... That’ll definitely do the trick, yeah.”

Miles comes even closer, now almost standing chest-to-chest with Sirius, and he tilts his head up and leans in.

James still looks mighty impressed with Miles’ flirting tactics, while Remus wonders if the sound of his heart shattering might give them away.

Suddenly, Sirius steps back. “Wait, stop. I... I can’t.”

Miles looks disappointed, but not too shocked. “Why not?” He asks. Then he jabs his finger against Sirius’ chest, much like his sister did earlier. “And I swear to god, Sirius Black, if it’s because I’m a Muggle you can stick that wand of yours up your-”

“No, no, no!” Sirius quickly says, whilst letting out a breathless laugh. “It’s not you, really, it’s me.”

Miles gives Sirius a stern look, while placing his fists on his hips, making Remus wonder whether they’re sure Marlene and Miles aren’t twins. “If you’re gonna give me that lame excuse, at least elaborate what it is about ‘not me, but you’ that makes you reject me. I mean, I’m not proposing a marriage here!”

Sirius sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “There’s... someone else. I mean, there’s not really, I don’t have someone else, but I have feelings for someone else. So therefore this-” He gestures between himself and Miles. “Just doesn’t feel right.”

Remus exchanges a look with James, who looks just as stunned as he is by this information.

Miles, though, just folds his arms over his chest and looks at Sirius thoughtfully for a moment. “So, Lupin then?”

Remus freezes. What? Him? Oh no. He’s not sure he can bear to hear Sirius’ denial. ‘Lupin? Remus? No, of course not! What in Godric’s name gave you that idea? Why the hell would I fancy Remus?’

However, Sirius just sighs and looks down at his shoes. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

Remus stares dumbfounded. It’s... true? He feels an eruption of butterflies in his stomach. Well, he always feels some butterflies when he sees Sirius, but now it’s like all those butterflies had babies, and those babies had babies again, creating an immense flutter.

“Nah,” Miles says. “If I had known for sure, I wouldn’t have made a move. I only had a suspicion, but I decided to take a chance anyway. I’m not too surprised by this turn of events, though.”

“It’s really the only reason,” Sirius says. “Because you’re bloody great, you know that? You’re gonna make some guy really happy one day. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Miles groans. “ ‘Its not you, it’s me’, ‘anyone would be lucky to have you’. Shall we go before you start telling me we can still be friends?”

Sirius grins. “Normally I’d suggest we at least pretend to have had a good snog, just to see if Marlene’s face can get any more purple, but I don’t want to give Remus the wrong impression. Not that he’d care,” he adds with a mutter.

Miles stops walking again. “What? Are you seri- No, Marlene warned me not to say that. Really?”

Sirius just blinks at him.

Miles shakes his head. “I mean, you asked if you were being obvious, well, you were nothing compared to Lupin. Although, that could just be me. I couldn’t help but notice when he’s looking at me like he wants me to catch fire every time I come near you. Wait. You wizards can actually do that, can’t you?”

Remus huffs. He wouldn’t have actually set Miles on fire! At least he doesn’t think so.

Sirius frowns at Miles. “You must be mistaken. Remus is nothing but pure kindness! He always makes everyone feel welcome! You can’t help but like Remus!”

A warm feeling spreads through Remus’ chest.

Miles just looks at Sirius, shaking his head. “You’re actually in love, aren’t you?”

Sirius blushes and looks away.

“Well,” Miles says. “You should tell him how you feel. He clearly feels the same. Then you can both stop this pining.”

James, who just had to process the shock of one of his best friends fancying another one of his best friends, now has to process the shock of his best friends fancying each other. He’s staring at Remus, and consequently trips over a rock. He does manage to catch is balance, but he lets out a loud yelp.

Miles stares at the empty spot behind them on the path, surprised, but Sirius’ eyes narrow in suspicion. He lifts his wand, and the next moment a gush of wind blows the Invisibility Cloak off of Remus and James.

To his credit, Miles recovers pretty quickly from seeing two people appear seemingly out of nowhere, including the person they were just talking about. He blinks a couple of times, then says “I suppose this works as well.”

Remus and Sirius are just staring at each other.

“Uhm...” James says. “I was sent here by miss McKinnon to escort the younger McKinnon back to the estate.” Because apparently awkward situations make him talk like he’s an eighteen century nobleman. “Off we go, young lad.”

Miles doesn’t protest when James grabs his arm and starts dragging him away, but he does turn around to give Sirius a thumbs up.

“We were sent here by McKinnon,” Remus quickly says, when he and Sirius are alone. “She wanted to know if anything would happen between you and her brother.” Remus takes a deep breath. “And maybe I wanted to know if anything would happen between you and him myself as well,” he says softly.

“Were you jealous?” Sirius asks. It sounds curious, not angry, judgemental or smug, just curious.

Still, Remus can’t help but pout, and he looks away. “Of course I was jealous. Bloody Miles McKinnon, with his big blue eyes, batting those ridiculously long eyelashes at you, and being all cute, and witty, and charming.”

“You know, if you want Miles to snog you instead, you should hurry and you can probably still catch him,” Sirius says irritably.

“No!” Remus quickly says. “No. I just mean, I wish it was me. When he calls you handsome, when he brushes your hair away from your face, when he leans in to kiss you... I wish it was me doing those things.”

“Why don’t you?” Sirius whispers, staring at Remus intently.

“Because!” Remus says desperately. “Because I know how to be your friend, but if I even think about flirting with you, I turn into an awkward, rambling mess.”

The only thing that can possibly be going through Sirius’ mind right now is how the hell he let the sexy, confident, flirtatious boy walk away, to be stuck with the flustered heap of awkwardness that is Remus Lupin.

Remus stares down at his shoes. “I mean, I like you a lot, and also because I feel comfortable around you, I do, but when it comes to flirting, I suddenly get scared that you’ll laugh at me or something. I even think it’d be easier if you weren’t my friend, if we didn’t know each other so well. Then maybe I could-”

Remus stops talking when Sirius gently cups his cheek and tilts his head up. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leans in, giving Remus enough time to pull away had he wanted to. Which, for the record, he absolutely doesn’t. Sirius presses their lips together. And it’s...

Well, it’s not awkward at all.

It’s fireworks, and symphonies, and the sun breaking through the clouds. It’s a sense of belonging, and knowing all is right with the world, and a feeling of coming home.

Both boys are a little out of breath when they pull back, more because of the intense emotions than because the kiss had been that passionate.

“See?” Sirius smiles at Remus. “If I want you to stop rambling, I can always just... interrupt.”

“Rude,” Remus mutters, before pulling Sirius back into another kiss.

#my tumblr writing #crush confessions #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #marlene mckinnon #wolfstar fluff

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abbynx · 3 years

Text

0 to 100 real quick

La Squadra reacting to a usually silent, patient teammate snapping and going off

Genre: Platonic, just the bois being bros, definitely a self-projection, comfort

Warning: Cursing, mentions of breakup and manipulation

Your phone rang for the umpteenth time, the stubborn caller failing to realise how many times you've wordlessly made it clear you want nothing to do with him. All you ask of him was to finally leave you alone and yet he continues to persistently pest you. Your will power proved itself mighty to be tolerating his nineteenth call in five minutes.

It was your ex being a stubborn son of a bitch who has a lot of time in his hands, constantly asking you to pick up the phone and let him 'smooth out and explain' his recent relationship with his 'friends' behind your back. You were nowhere near stupid, nor gullible after joining the mob. despite your outward appearance as an innocent, average civilian you've hardened over time with the help of your career and turning your feelings off was no longer a challenge. Over time it simply became a light switch.

After his recent actions came to light, you bear to hesitation to break it off. For a moment you felt guilty when he gave his explanation to why he started seeing other people without you knowing; of course you knew what you were getting into when you signed your soul away to the devil to work in this line of career, you were constantly faced with death and lacked the time to spend time with him. He had no knowledge about what you do for a living, but you knew how to make it clear you were never going to be a simple one-call-away. But over time you've finally gained some self-worth and self-preservation to see through his guilt tripping, before you dropped his ass.

Now you were here, rejecting his calls before pocketing it back in your pants before resuming the movie night. Even putting the phone on silent it continued to bother everyone around you as you continued to nonchalantly press the reject call button.

How can you be this patient, the rest of the team questions but the answer lay before them. Risotto hired the timid assassin with potential for their unwavering patience and swift wits to wiggle them selves out of severe situations, something the time could use to be honest especially when you have a ticking time bomb with no timer and goes off at random. Perhaps the question would be simply answered with a short and simple one: "It's just Y/N being Y/N."

With the pestering phone calls bothering you for the past few days, your team can't help to be annoyed on your behalf and would like to chuck your phone into the deepest trench of the ocean and buy you a new one.

Much to everyone's chagrin, they watch you pick your phone up, however, what you did next was new and unexpected. Instead of rejecting the call, you finally picked up. Most of the time you'd politely greet, but today was certainly different. As soon as you picked up the phone, you wasted no breathe to speak and cut to the chase. All eyes turned to you, some were concerned, curious, shocked, or proud.

"Can you quit blowing up my phone, dude? Twenty FUCKING calls every second is getting tiresome. If you're calling me to 'explain' to me how you're not meeting your hookups then fuck off and get lost! what? Do you miss your personal ego booster? Well then fuck you, go try and choke on your own dick! Do you fucking think I'll believe your half-assed bullshit lies and pathetic fucking cries and bitching will win me over? You must be so fucking DELUSIONAL to be thinking you're worth the effort! What? Are you sad that I’m not a passable doll you can manipulate and mold to your liking? Is that it, you crazy son of a bitch? Can't you fucking get a clue that I'm over it? Huh? I couldn't care less about the new lies you've come up with to try and win me over, I'm done! Finished! Tapos! Ho finito! He terminado! Я задолбался! WHAT OTHER LANGUAGES DO I NEED TO SPEAK TO GET IT THROUGH THAT THICK FUCKING NOGGIN OF YOUR’S? CALL ME AGAIN AND I SWEAR TO ALL THINGS CONSIDERED MIGHTY THAT YOU WON’T HAVE ANY TEETH LEFT, DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND YOU FUCKING CHEATER? DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND? Good."

As soon as you finished the call, you calmly set it down with a sigh of relief. Peace at last. You adjusted yourself comfortably on your seat, wanting to watch the movie on display, when you felt you've made yourself quite the spectacle.

“What?”

Formaggio

- “Woooh, they went off!” His initial response was to high-five you for some reason but you accepted, nevertheless.

- Very shocked and yet enthusiastic at how you handles yourself at the face of a situation like this. Not to mention, the build up! From you trying to tolerate the caller for the past few minutes, before picking up the call and gave them an ass whipping to remember for the rest of his life!

- He would feel sorry for the person of the other side of the line if it weren’t for the fact he cheated on you, so good for him to be told off.

Illuso

- “Heh, about time you told him off.”

- Silently supportive at how you handled yourself at the face of a situation like this and admires you for it. It was very entertaining while it lasted, now he just wants to go back to watching the movie.

- Along that, he was shock that this hidden side of yours came put of nowhere and came out strong, which he thinks is pretty fucking rad. He now thinks back at the times where he gave you backhanded comments and how you managed to keep yourself cool under it... He now reminds himself not to get on your bad side, ever.

Proscuitto

- “.... Thank fuck you’re done, I was starting to think about throwing your phone out.”

- Extremely flabbergasted, as he has never heard you speak fluent in profanities, nor raise your voice at the duration of your stay in La Squadra. and addition to that, the fact you leaned on your seat and calmed yourself immediately as if nothing happened.

- Nevertheless, he feels proud at you for standing up to yourself and standing your ground. You have always been the timid one entering the world of crime and he overlooked your development within this new and risky life style. Looks like his mentoring worked wonders on you and he feels proud of himself.

Pesci

- “......”

- He was too shaken up to speak, he has never heard you be this angry and frustrated before as you’ve always kept calm in every situation and he admires you for that.

- He is shaken up, sure but it doesn’t really change how he views you. You were still the patient person he has ever met-- he just happen to witness you lose your cool once but he’s sure that this won’t define you.

Melone

- “Good for you for getting rid of that guy.”

- He’s just relieved that you’re finally done with the guy who has been giving Melone weird vibes the moment you told him about your then boyfriend. A few alarm bells rang in his head as you detailed how he acts around you and despite being happy for you back then, Melone was extremely vocal about his concerns. Looking back at it, he feels that his ‘paranoia’ wasn’t far off.

- He isn’t really shock, he’s just happy that you’re standing your ground and establishing yourself as a person who don’t need no one to use as a co-dependent crutch. After being around Ghiaccio, he really isn’t that phased anymore.

Ghiaccio

- “Fucking finally!”

- Similar to Melone, he’s just relieved your done with the phone calls and clingy boyfriend who is a walking-talking red flag. He hated how you didn’t have time back then to hang out with your other teammates just to spend time with your boyfriend to make up lost times, that often lasts until midnight and Ghiaccio can still hear you talking to your phone.

- Ghiaccio cares about you despite his distant veneer, and wants the best for the people he cares about. So he was happy that you finally broke your relationship of with a guy who doesn’t deserve you. Also, he’s starting to think that your choice of vocabulary all came from him and is unsure whether he should feel proud or not.

Risotto

- “Oh... Okay, good for you.”

- He blurted the first thing in mind, because he was just so shock at how you responded. He hired you for being so patient and calm at all times and now looking back, he doesn’t really see himself thinking that one day you’ll be going off without stopping to breathe and stutter.

- Don’t get him wrong, he actually thinks it’s awesome that you stood up for yourself like that, but just give him time to reel back to reality. He just never thought you’d explode that hard.

Gelato and Sorbet

- “See Sorbet? I told you they’d snap eventually!”

- The couple was immensely entertained at your empowering speech being quite the ego breaker and worse-fate-than-death threat. They adore it whenever they see a usually timid newcomer becoming unafraid to stand their ground and tell their oppressors off, it honestly feels like a proud parent thing for them to see their baby kid all grown up and kicking people in the guts with their words.

- If you would want a rebound, they won’t hesitate to set someone up with you who is far better than your dog-faced ex because they know that people are barely worthy for you

#la squadra x reader #platonic #x reader #comfort #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiacchio x #risotto x reader #gelato and sorbet x reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jjba golden wind #jjba part 5 #la sqaudra #all the foreign language are basically just 'im done'

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pikapeppa · 3 years

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Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

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Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot.

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight.

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon.

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through.

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either.

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.”

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking.

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon.

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face.

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door.

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still…

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?”

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?”

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did.

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read.

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair.

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said.

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke.

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this.

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner. “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping.

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower?

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes.

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too.

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin…

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this.

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

#garrus vakarian #garrus #shakarian #garrus/shepard #garrus x shepard #garrus x femshep #Fun fact: Garrus is actually my OG videogame husbando from back in the day #but when i first played the ME trilogy i wasn't a writer #so i could not process my feelings like a thirsty madwoman with too many emotions #I AM A WRITER NOW HOWEVER #AND MY FEELINGS CAN ONLY BE PROCESSED BY BARFING THEM ONTO A SCREEN #pikapeppa writes

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thyshadowwriter · 3 years

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Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

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A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve!

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’ Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

#ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings fanfiction #ivar x oc

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Hello ! May I request a yan scaramouche x fatui harbinger reader? This is my first time sending a request, so I'm not sure what else to add..

I thought about answering this with headcanons only, but I like your idea enough, so my brain blurted out a small drabble to accompany them.

Yandere!Scaramouche x fatui harbinger!gn!reader

Scaramouche isn’t a type of person that is easy to please, as he can find fault in almost anything or anyone within a couple of minutes, a contemptuous scowl taking it’s usual place on his face. He dislikes his subordinates - they are stupid and slow and never get his orders right, despite how simple his commands are. He loathes ordinary people - they idle around and get in the way of his business. And, of course, he despises his colleagues - they're crazy and annoying bunch, starting from the battle obsessed ginger idiot and ending with just straight up insane scientist who likes to play god on other fatui underlings.

Not counting you, of course.

You see, there is always some exception from the rule, divergence from the median, unnatural anomaly, you.

It was hard at first, to comprehend that he actually liked you. He felt this weird warmth blooming in his chest as he looked at you, cheeks furiously heating up, and his eyes were searching for your face, and especially your lips, every time you had a meeting together. Every single time.

All it took for him to finally realize his feelings for you was some half serious comment from Childe, the moron joked that Scaramouche looked like a longing maiden, at which the shorter man snapped back with a couple of barbed insults that no doubt hurt Tartaglia’s ego.

Despite understanding his sentiments now, it didn’t make life easier in the slightest sense. On the contrary, Scaramouche was now aware how much in love he was with you - he was annoyed with himself for the first three weeks - and how much power you had over him.

It is frightening to know that he allowed himself to be ruled by his feelings alone like some foolish teen having a first crush. You reduced a great Harbinger to some love obsessed idiot. Scaramouche started to catch himself how hard it is to just stop staring at your form, devouring your face, legs and form with eyes alone, or how angry he gets once anyone other than him talks to you, be it other Harbingers, your underlings or even Tsaritsa herself.

Sometimes a desperate thought makes its way into his mind - to lock you up and hide from the whole world, to be the only person to touch, smell, taste and see you, to be the only one blessed to witness your beauty and hear your voice. Silly notion reappears in his head with a concerning frequency, and he sometimes even entertains it, consumed by his imagination for a far longer time that is healthy

Nonetheless, Scaramouche always has to discard the idea - it is a mad, perverse and unobtainable image - no matter how much he lusts after you and pictures you all good and docile just for him, you are still a Harbinger, his equal in everything, including the power. If only you were some underling or even civilian, then he wouldn’t need to feign indifference in your presence, or stop some of his less than pleasant urges. He could just snatch you and chain you, train to be a good little toy just for him, happy to serve it’s master and owner.

Oh how sweet you would moan and beg under him, how much you would do to please him. Scaramouche could break you and rebuild from scratch, make sure that there is nothing but him in your pretty head, match his obsession with you with a love he would force you to learn. He could be your god and the world, replace everything in your life with his presence alone. Sadly, there’s no way Scaramouche can get away with this when you are his equal.

Fortunately for him, there are ways fatuis even as high and mighty as Harbingers can still lose their title. The easiest one is to disappoint Tsaritsa - fail enough tasks, mess up significant missions or cause an international conflict, you pick it.

It’s a traitorous and dangerous thought - sabotage of the fellow harbinger, something that would prompt his own demotion or even dismissal if someone got wind of what he plans. But, Scaramouche muses, it’s also a game worth playing - he can lose everything if he fails, but he’ll get you if he wins. He just needs to trick you to ruin your reputation and attract the ire of the cryo archon.

“Hello”, he says, approaching you after the usual harbinger gathering, a fake smile plastered on his face: “I want to help you with that mission Tsaritsa gave you”.

You look at him with an unreadable gaze, brows furrowed in contemplation: “Why would you offer your help?”

“I don’t want Tsaritsa or Fatui to be at a disadvantage, this task is really hard. I am not questioning Tsaritsa’s judgement, but Qixing started to be really suspicious of us, especially after that idiot, Tartaglia, almost drowned the whole city”. He tries to keep his usual slightly annoyed, slightly angered manner of talking, hoping that you won’t question him.

It works - “All right”, you nod offering an intel spies have collected, and start introducing him to what you plan to do. He intently listens, feeling how his fake smile grows into a genuine one.

Headcanons

Scaramouche is smitten - his eyes trail you, he takes your every word like a holy scripture, he gets so flustered when you just look his way, yet he never shows it to you, a bored facade appearing every time you pay him even a gram of attention.

You, most likely, won't even be aware of his crush growing into obsession - Scaramouche is a skilled actor, capable of showing thousands of different emotions seconds, effortlessly switching between the masks.

Despite the gentle feelings he has fpr, Scaramouche also possesses much darker urges that he doesn't want to stop.

He is very possessive, getting angry every time you talk with anyone other than him.

He likes to picture you obedient and docile, worshipping him like a God. He thinks he deserves it.

The balance in the power between you two is something that really bothers him - he wants you to be completely dependent on him, vulnerable before any wish and perversion he could subject you to.

Will try to sabotage you as a harbinger in hopes that you lose your title and power.

If you somehow remain infallible to his schemes and plans he will try to actually befriend you.

It's an arduous task, none of the harbingers really like each other enough to build such intimate connections, and both you and Scaramouche know it.

If you have a lesser rank than him, he will try to come off as a well meaning senior. If he is the one with a lesser title, then he will feign ignorance and ask for assistance.

All in all, your fate depends on how smart and cautious you are around Scaramouche. If you are perceptive enough he will have to face one defeat after the other, lessenning his resolve.

Don't think that it will be enough to stop him from trying, though.

#Yandere Scaramouche x reader #Yandere Scaramouche #Yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #Scaramouche #Yandere genshin #Yandere genshin x reader #I see a little silhouetto of a man #my writing

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

Text

Succession Chapter 8 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Chapter 8 is here!

Title: Succession Chapter 8

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OC

Rating: R for language and explicit gore (may be triggering with the descriptions of the bodies in the factory)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter 8

The soft tugging of your wrists woke you from sleep. You blinked rapidly and looked up to see Heisenberg removing the cuffs and setting them on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you asked, bringing your hands close to your body and rubbing your wrists.

“Sorry to wake you,” Heisenberg murmured, “but I’m going to work for a while downstairs...didn’t want you to be shackled to the bed the whole time. Do you need to use the bathroom before I go?”

You nodded your head, realizing you were in need of the facilities. Standing slowly to your feet, you padded to the door and walked across the way into the bathroom. Once you relieved yourself, you washed your hands and made your way back to the room.

“I’ll be down there for several hours,” Heisenberg said as he rinsed his hands in the sink, “I’ll probably skip lunch. Help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator.”

You thanked him and curled back up under the covers. You couldn’t believe it, but this fucked-up picture of domesticity was starting to grow on you. Last night’s dinner outside at sunset was quite pleasant. Heisenberg didn’t talk much aside from the occasional grunt or nod if you said anything. It seemed that something was weighing on his mind. And when you asked him what he had been working on at his desk a few hours earlier, he once again told you to mind your business.

Heisenberg put on his hat, sunglasses, and trenchcoat and left without another word, closing the door behind him.

You fell asleep for another three hours before finally waking up and looking over at his clock on his nightstand. The time read 11:46am.

Rising from the bed, you cooked yourself some breakfast and filled a mug full of water. You ate leisurely and leafed through a fashion magazine that had been stuffed into one of the suitcases Heisenberg had brought from the crash site.

Once you were finished with your plates, you washed them in the sink and put them away. You had made up your mind that you were going to shower. You hadn’t washed since Heisenberg brought you here and it was creeping up on day three...or was it day four...five maybe? Either way, you needed to wash.

You gathered your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and sponge. You also reached for your razor and shaving cream. It had been several days since you shaved your legs and you wanted to be clean and smooth...just in case…

No, you thought, not because of Heisenberg! But because I want to get back to feeling normal again!

There were a couple of towels hanging over the windowed walls of the shower, no doubt used by Heisenberg himself. You made a mental note to ask him for towels of your own when he got back…

Then it occurred to you. When he left, he closed the door, but you didn’t hear the loud click that his key usually made in the lock...

He didn’t lock the door.

As you shaved and showered, you mentally weighed the pros and cons of whether or not you should leave Heisenberg’s living quarters. He had never not locked the door. Maybe whatever work he had planned was at the forefront of his mind and he had simply forgotten to lock the door. Or maybe, just as he trusted you to go back and forth from the bathroom without him keeping watch over you, maybe he was starting to trust you not to leave the room.

The monotony of the room was starting to become boring...perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to walk around and stretch your legs.

You put on a pair of jeans, a long sleeved shirt, socks, and sneakers. Promising yourself that you wouldn’t walk too far, you opened the door quietly and peeked out into the hallway, looking right and left. Heisenberg wasn’t in the vicinity. The usual sounds of the factory rang out in the distance. You strained your hearing to listen for footsteps. Except for you, the area was empty.

Pushing the door all the way open, you stepped out into the hall. You walked down the hallway, making sure to keep your steps light and quiet. The pounding of your pulse was ringing in your ears and you were terrified of Heisenberg finding you outside of his living quarters. He would not be happy with you if he could see you at that moment.

You walked to a closed door and opened it to see the suspended walkway you had run across on your first day. The noises were louder as you looked out among the metal, chains, steam, and rotating bodies. A large body of water was several feet below you. You stood there for a minute and looked all around, afraid that Heisenberg would be nearby and see you on the walkway.

The coast was clear. You quickened your pace as you walked, making sure to tiptoe. You reached the door on the other side, pushing it open.

This was uncharted territory. You didn’t know what was around the corner and made a mental note of which way you turned, how many flights of stairs you went up and down, and factory signs. The signs were written in Romanian, but you sounded them out in your head in hopes you would remember your way back.

Occasionally you would open a door or two along the way, poking your head in and scanning the rooms. A part of you felt guilty...you were being invasive and nosy. This was Heisenberg’s home and even though he was keeping you here against your will, you thought it unlikely that he would want you poking around in his factory. You could picture him now: his brows furrowing, his gloved hands balling into fists, and his mighty voice booming as he yelled at you to get back to his quarters.

Dear god, why did that turn you on?

You had descended stairs earlier and hadn’t seen another set in quite a while, so you assumed you were down in the dregs of the factory. It started to feel warmer the further down you went. Why wasn’t Heisenberg’s room down here instead of higher up where the cold slid in through the walls so effortlessly?

You turned a corner and came up to a heavy steel door that was slightly ajar. Leaning forward, you peered down a dark hall...with bodies hanging along the right side. “Oh my god…” you whispered. You couldn’t tell whether they were alive or dead, but a gas mask sat over each of their mouths and they hung from a tight leather strap wrapped around the breastbone and up under their arms. Their skin was pale and their eyes closed.

Keeping your back flat against the left side of the hallway, you quietly and slowly made your way across. You counted in your head...one, two, three, four, five, six bodies spaced out along the hallway. Was this part of the work that Heisenberg was doing around here? You shook your head. Why was he doing this? What was he doing with all of these bodies?

Another steel door was at the end of the hall and you silently turned the knob and pushed it open.

Upon entering the large room, you gasped audibly, your eyes wide. The place looked like a morgue. Five steel tables sat in the room...with five more corpses lying on top of them. They each looked recently dead, their skin not as pale as the men hanging in the hallway behind you. Decomposition had not occured yet. The bodies had various trauma to them. One was missing an arm. One had its left leg sewed on.

The other three were fitted with a visor over their eyes. They laid shirtless on the tables. One was a woman, her bare breasts visible with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart was supposed to be. She was clothed from the waist down in a uniform that looked familiar...she was wearing a flight attendant’s uniform. Could this be one of the attendants from your plane???

The other two bodies had something different over their left chest. A circular metal contraption was lodged inside. “What the fuck…” you murmured softly, walking amongst the carnage. You were beginning to think that maybe you should have stayed inside Heisenberg’s quarters.

A door was opened on the other side of the room. You crept towards it and looked inside. The room stretched out before you and you could see a steel wall in the middle, separating one section of the room from the other. A steel table stood next to the edge of the wall and you saw that you would have to circle it to see what was on the other side. Swallowing the growing anxiety in your throat, you stepped closer.

You reached the table and the wall and leaned forward, peering into the room. Your mouth dropped, your eyes widened, and you gasped loudly.

“Bruce???”

Bruce Williams sat in what looked like a dentist’s chair, his body slumped forward. A visor, just like the ones the three bodies were fitted with in the previous room, was also sitting over his eyes. Three or four tubes were hanging from the ceiling and plugged into different areas on his body. But the worst thing was his arm...the forearm from the elbow down was missing...and what replaced it was an electric saw.

A tear rolled down your cheek. Oh, god, Bruce, you thought, what happened to you?

Before you were able to put two and two together, there was movement behind Bruce’s body. An open door was against the back wall and Heisenberg entered the room, both of his hands holding surgical tools. He stopped in his tracks when he looked up and saw you standing before Bruce.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Heisenberg growled, “how did you get out of my room?”

Panic, disbelief, and terror surged through your body. You found yourself mourning for Bruce all over again and being gripped with fear over being caught...but even greater, fury had begun to make your blood boil.

“What is this?!?!” you cried out shrilly, “what are you doing to him??? Bruce...he was seated next to me on the plane!!! OH DEAR GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM???” You took several steps back, your fingers gripping your hair. This was not happening....this was not happening...you were dreaming again…

“Y/N, let me explain…” Heisenberg said, fastly approaching you, putting his tools down on the table.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!” you screamed, turning on your heels and running out of the room. You ran into one of the bodies on the table, your body falling forward. Your chin touched its cold skin and you let out another loud scream.

“Y/N, stop!” Heisenberg commanded. You felt him behind you, his hands gripping your shoulders. You yelped and whirled around, shoving his body away from you. You ran for the exit just as one of the tables with a body flew out in front of you, blocking your path.

Adrenaline was pumping through you and you quickly ran around the table and out of the door. You ran down the hallway, ignoring the hanging bodies, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Y/N!!” Heisenberg yelled as he ran after you. You were in total flight mode and you couldn’t remember which way was up. The little notes you had jotted in your memory were long gone and you had no idea how to get out of the factory.

As you turned a corner, you saw a large industrial lift. You darted inside, gripping the sliding elevator door from above, and pulled it down shut. Looking over at the buttons, you hit the UP arrow rapidly in pure panic.

Heisenberg ran full force at the door, his fingers wrapping around the wooden railings. You screamed loudly, scrambling back against the other side of the lift, pressing your back against the wall.

“Y/N!!” Heisenberg shouted, “Y/N, STOP!!! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!!”

The elevator lift began to ascend, putting more and more space between you and Heisenberg. You could hear him shaking the wooden railings, screaming your name over and over. Looking upwards, you watched with growing impatience as the lift slowly made its way higher and higher until it stopped at the very top.

There was a metal door before you with thin railings. You looked between them to see a small field surrounded by a barbed wire fence. The metal door was shut tight. You started to kick at the door and shove your shoulder against it, desperate for it to open. After what felt like several moments, you shoved your body once again and the door flew open. You spilled into the grass and looked around wildly. Where could you go? Where could you hide?

You looked to the left and saw a small section of fence that was rusted and pushed back, creating a space that would allow you to escape. Running as fast as your legs could take you, you pushed at the wire and slithered your body through the hole. Jagged edges snagged your skin and your clothes, but you were too fueled by panic to worry about scratches.

After clearing the fence, you jumped to your feet and ran towards the trees and the mountains, desperate to get as far away from Heisenberg as you could.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #succession fanfic #succession heisenberg fanfic

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ramzawrites · 4 years

Text

Rivals - Prince!Reader x Prince!Eret

Male

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request from 🌱🌟 my beloved <3 /p

Summary: Prince Y/N and Prince Eret hated each other. That was just a fact. Mostly causing trouble together in order to one up the other. Though over the time even their relationship can change.

Words count: 5367

Authors Note: I’ll be honest you hit me with this request at a very good time so I ended up writing 10 pages in one go haha

At the end I made the executive decision to finally cut it off or I probably would have written even more, for which I’m honestly don’t have the time at the moment. I hope it’s not that obvious but if it is I apologize.

Thank you for the request 🌱🌟

I am reposting it since the original post doesn’t seem to appear in the tags no need to check the original post but I wanted to give a reason why it’s twice on my blog

Prince Eret and Prince Y/N hated each other.

That was just a universally accepted thing and something that made sense. Just like how water is wet, the ground was made out of dirt, Eret and Y/N hated each other.

Both of their respecting kingdoms never had a good relationship to say the least. Way back in the day the two nations have wared against each other which almost ruined both kingdoms forcing the two to an act of neutrality with the behest of the neighboring kingdoms.

Though this was way off in the past. Nowadays they had rebuilt. Their forces and monetary situation stood strong but they stayed neutral. Eyeing each other closely for any slip ups, though they were also bound to contracts that would involve other nations as well should they begin to go to war again, which wasn’t in interest for both parties.

So they tried to mostly ignore each other which only worked to an extent. If you are a strong nation with an impressive military force or with a lot of money, other nations will invite you to their balls, banquets or whatever fancy party they have going at that point. And it was in your best interest to join these as well, to show off your might, wealth or to connect with other foreign powers.

The first time Y/N’s family took him with them to one of these balls, he was barely six years old.

For a six year old a ball was a boring affair. All the adults were courteously laughing and only sipping on their drinks. Occasionally walking on the stage to dance to the slow and boring music.

Y/N was busy watching two older women dance in tandem. Their dresses and silk moving together in a sea of fabric that seemed to hypnotized the child as he sat on the side of the stage. His parents were off somewhere else, feeling they could trust enough in his proper upbringing to not cause any problems, that they left him. Saying that he should try to enjoy himself.

Enjoy himself how? Dance with the lonely grandma that was busy drinking away all the wine in the castle? No, thank you.

Finally tearing his eyes off the dancing women Y/N noticed how someone else was cautiously approaching him. It was another kid in what he assumed was his age. This stranger had fluffy wild hair and had a sympathetic smile on his face. He wore a simple suit similar to Y/N’s but there were a ton of differences in details.

As he got closer Y/N could swear that something seemed off about him. Something in him was screaming but he couldn’t place why he felt like that.

“Hello.” The other kid greeted Y/N.

Y/N looked around the room for a second before setting his attention back on him “Hello. Who are you?” There was a small hope in him, hey maybe this boring ball won’t be so boring after all.

With a proud expression the kid did a proper royal greeting, bowing in front of Y/N for a second “I am Prince Eret from the mighty nation of-“

But Y/N interrupted him “Prince Eret?! I know of you! My parents warned me and told me to ignore you.” He then stuck his tongue out and made a point to look away from him.

Eret furrowed his brows, exclaiming loudly his confusion to this reaction “Huh? Why?”

Y/N rolled his eyes and got off the chair he was sitting on. Just like Eret, he did his own version of the royal greeting that he got taught by his etiquette teachers “I am Prince Y/N.”

He knew he didn’t need to say more which got confirmed by Eret’s worried and confused expression turning into a proper frown.

“Oh, yuck, so that’s what you look like.”

Y/N gasped in anger “What do you mean yuck? You are the yuck one here! Between the two of us I’m clearly the cooler prince!”

“Oh really? Prove it.” Eret huffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Now fired up Y/N looked frantically through the whole ball room but couldn’t seem to come up with anything, that was until he saw a servant of the local royal family sauntering around with a plate of drinks and even with a few cheese and meat skewers.

“I bet I could steal more of these skewers from the servants than you.”

Instead of backing down Eret now had a competitive glint in his eyes “You are on.”

And that’s how both Eret and Y/N got into their first real trouble with their parents and other nobles.

They snuck around the people, hiding behind huge skirts and trying their best to grab a skewer from the plate. At first they waited for the servant to look away while they were talking to someone but soon their maneuvers turned riskier and riskier. Jumping up to grab one or even trying to distract them before grabbing another.

At some point for whatever reason both jumped into the air at the same time, grabbing the same skewer which ended with them smashing into the servant who in return fell down, the drinks spilling onto a couple that stood closely by.

As the adults were trying to understand what just happened Y/N grabbed Eret’s arm and yelled “Run!”

The two begun running away, making their way into the garden, hiding behind a bush as they heard some adults screaming and running around.

Y/N didn’t care if Eret got caught by the adults but he was worried he might sell him out to them as well. No, he was positive he would definitely snitch on him.

Out of breath the two kids huddled together, keeping their ears open, trying to catch any sound that might come closer to them.

Eret looked at Y/N “I clearly won.” He then showed off the skewers he was holding against his suit, effectively ruining it.

Y/N shook his head, showing his own off “Nuh-uh. I clearly won.”

For some reason or another they managed to acquire the same amount of food so they sadly had to come to the conclusion that this was a tie. As they angrily begun snacking on their loot, they still continued throwing childish insults at each other.

This only lasted for a few minutes until their parents found them and figuratively tore them away to yell at them. Saying things like “this is not the proper behavior of a prince! Now we have to apologize to all the people! Do you know what this could cost us?”

From that point on their rivalry really started. Every few months they would meet up again by proxy of being invited to the same noble festivities. In fact every time Y/N was on such a party he fully expected Eret being there as well.

He would arrive and keep look out for that oh so dashing prince from the rival kingdom. Y/N scoffed, Eret wished he thought of him like that but in truth Y/N probably knew the best what kind of idiot he could be. After all he had firsthand experience for this.

While they always ended up in some sort of trouble there was this one moment, when they were twelve years old, that always stood out to him.

As usual Eret and Y/N found each other during a banquet. Both immediately fell back into arguing and making fun of each other. The adults got so tired of it that they sent the two outside so they could, in their words, cool down.

“You look ridiculous in your suit.” Eret mumbled towards Y/N as they wandered outside into the garden. Y/N just rolled his eyes as a response, choosing to ignore Eret at this point, not feeling comfortable with being banished outside together with him.

The garden was beautiful, of course.

Different kinds of flowers were planted along all the sides of the garden. Between them stood a few Willow trees with their long leaves hanging above the flowers and seating opportunities while in the middle of the whole place stood a beautiful huge pond with a statue protruding from the middle of it. The statue displayed two unidentifiable human beings holding on to each other, both holding an urn up into the air together where some water was rushing out ouf down into the pond.

While this all, together with the moon light, looked almost magical Y/N was more concentrated on what was inside the pond.

As he walked over to the water he could see a few koi fish flitting around in there. He sat down and lazily begun drawing invisible patterns into the water. Sometimes the fish would come close only to immediately swim away once they either saw the hand or felt the movement.

Eret was just standing dumbfounded to the side. Staring at Y/N which infuriated him. He could feel his dark eyes lingering on him and it just annoyed him. Eret finally shut up but now he was just standing there in uncomfortable silence.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh “Stop doing that.”

Eret looked bewildered at that “Stop, what?”

“Staring! I can see you staring! I know I’m handsome but come on.” Y/N snickered at the last part.

This time Eret rolled his eyes “Nah, I was just thinking how easy it would be to push you into the water right now and was debating if it was worth getting into trouble for it.”

“And what did your small brain come up with?”

Eret walked over and sat down next to Y/N “It’s sadly not worth it. I feel like I would get in even more trouble than last time when I was destroying you in that food fight.”

Y/N angrily shook his head “Oh, no! I was winning! You were lucky my father literally pulled me away from you or you wouldn’t even be standing here right now!”

“You wish! Your father saved the small bit of dignity you have!”

Ignoring Eret’s attempt to obviously rile him up and make him more angry, Y/N turned now fully away from him and instead returned to watching the fish. They looked more interesting and had more personality than Eret anyhow.

It was also definitely easier to look at the animals than Eret. Every time he would look at him even only for a little bit this fuzzy anger inside the pit of Y/N’s stomach would come up and by god he hated it. Unbeknownst to him this feeling was mutual.

Eret almost seemed chuffed that Y/N didn’t seem to react and instead chose to follow him suit with watching the fish.

“If we are already stuck out here let’s make it at least interesting.” Y/N broke the silence “Let’s catch some fish. I’m betting I can catch more than you.”

Eret was already getting rid of his jacket and pushed his sleeves up “I doubt that!”

Not wasting time Y/N shed his jacket as well and rolled his sleeves up only to jump into the water himself once the fish stayed out of both their reaches due to their incessant punching into the water.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Not losing!” was all Y/N said.

Eret not feeling too keen on possibly losing, jumped into the pond as well, trying to ignore Y/N who was inadvertently splashing water his way.

As a bit of a payback Eret threw some water towards Y/N which resulted in him loosing a prime chance for trying to grab a fish.

Everything is allowed in love and war after all and this was definitely war.

Though this action led to Y/N retaliating with spraying water back on Eret. Soon the two didn’t care about the fish anymore and were too busy trying to wrestle the other under the water. It wasn’t a full blown fight, no real punches fell but there was a lot of pushing and pulling.

They only stopped once they heard a blood curdling scream. Apparently the noble who owned the garden saw them inside her pond and was obviously not too pleased with it.

Yeah, there was a lot of anger and screaming afterwards but for Y/N and Eret it just fueled their hatred toward each other. If the other one wasn’t there, then they wouldn’t have this problem in the first place but since this wasn’t the case all they could do as proper heirs to their respecting kingdoms was to make the others existence pain.

Over the years their rivalry became infamous and nobles who invited both to their festivities either tried to keep increased watch over them or to the detriment of both sides of the families, tried to incite them. Noble people where a strange lot, trying to find entertainment in the weirdest places.

Not that Y/N or Eret cared too much. They were too busy trying to screw the other over though their methods changed over the years. As kids they were more physical with it while the older they got they tended to use their words more and more to the relieve of their parents.

A good example for that was when both were about sixteen years old.

At this point they learned to rein in their anger towards the other and instead concentrated more or less on their royal duties. Well, they tried but every time they saw each other anger would just flood their systems.

It was a typical ball really. The nobles were busy mingling with each other, spreading false compliments in order to gain the political or social upper hand. Some called it an intricate game but Y/N thought it was just stupid. Just say what you think and don’t sugar coat it. That was something and maybe the only thing he and Eret could agree on. As much as he hated that guy he wasn’t scared to tell Y/N what he thought of him.

He appreciated him for that. A shiver ran down his spine as soon as that thought crossed his mind and Y/N just shoved it away. Never in his life would he actually appreciate that mad prince.

That said it was a bit weird how he hasn’t spotted Eret yet. Not that he was specifically looking out for him or anything. He just wanted to be aware where he was so he could avoid him. Was he invited? His family was here but he seemed to be gone. Maybe he finally gave up trying to one up Y/N and stayed home.

Y/N doubted that though. The only reason why Eret wouldn’t appear to something like this was if he was seriously sick. It happened only once and Y/N ended up being bored to death. So what if he derived entertainment from his rival? That’s a part of the reason what rivalries are for, right?

Spending so much time thinking about him made Y/N uncomfortable. This one feeling in the pit of his stomach just flared up again which he didn’t appreciate one bit. Just another reason why Eret was so annoying. He was the only person this happened with.

Bored out of his mind Y/N begun moving through the ball room. There was one place Eret could be hiding away at. If anything Y/N could predict some behavior from him over the years. Making sure to stay away from all the dancing people and the conversations, not feeling interested to take part in it. Instead he moved towards the gardens.

It was just the place he and Eret would default to since at the slightest chance of trouble the other nobles liked to throw them out immediately.

So when he spotted Eret walking around the rose bushes it didn’t completely surprise him.

“And here I thought I spied a birds nest in between the bushes but alas it is just Eret’s hair.”

Eret visibly flinched once he heard Y/N. Apparently he had been so busy with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Y/N approaching him. He frowned at the other prince while he in return was just smirking smugly.

Sighing Eret walked over to a particular big rose and begun inspecting it“ And I thought I would finally be free of you. You arrived late, huh?”

“Hardly my fault, though I too was hoping you finally conceded and stayed home but here you are just staring at some roses like some hopeless romantic prince from some sort of fairy tale.”

When Eret didn’t immediately fire back and hesitated Y/N’s eyes widened “No! Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me you actually have a crush on someone! Who is the poor person?”

As he spoke the words out loud it felt like his chest was ablaze. Something about that thought rubbed him the wrong way. He just labelled it as a different way for his annoyance towards Eret to show up but it confused him nonetheless.

Realistically what did he care about his love affairs?

Finally Eret vehemently shook his head “No, nothing like that! Why was this where your mind went? I was just bored and am looking at the flowers. Even you can admit that they are pretty, right?” Eret chuckled “Or are you jealous somehow?”

“Only in your dreams.” Y/N responded with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Nightmares you mean.” Eret added before pulling one rose out of the bush.

Y/N looked around hoping none of the staff or someone else saw this “Dude, what the hell are you doing? If you get into trouble for stealing flowers and I’m around everyone will think I’m part of this.”

“They won’t notice, Y/N. Well, they will only notice it if you aren’t careful enough. You need to have an eye for such things and me begrudgingly knowing you as well as I do, you do not have an eye for that.”

This is always how it happens. Every god damn time. One of the two would make a statement that the other person couldn’t do a very specific thing and all bets were off.

A dangerous glint appeared in Y/N’s eyes “I’ll give you the most amazing rose bouquet without tipping anyone off.” He didn’t seem to realize what he just said but Eret did.

While Y/N turned around in order to scour out the place Eret was still standing in the back. A soft blush on his face. Almost angry with himself he frowned and turned to the opposite direction Y/N just went. He was just so frustrating to be around. Doesn’t even think before he speaks.

This whole endeavor took longer than both initially expected. Most of the time they would just saunter between the bushes only occasionally plucking a flower off. Often enough the two stood in front of the same rose, trying to act as fast as possible to get it before the other.

Eret clearly went for the flower first but once his hand touched the stem of the rose, Y/N was there as well, his hand brushing past Eret’s, holding onto the lower part of the stem.

“You’ve got be kidding me.” Y/N cursed.

Eret squinted his eyes as he looked at him “What do you mean? I went for it first! You still continued grabbing it like the brute you are!”

Y/N gasped in a fake display of disbelief. Acting like the biggest insult just got hurled towards him when in fact Eret has said worse things before or even the countless nobles who suffered damages due to their shenanigans.

Both stared at each other, not letting go off the rose. Their brows furrowed into deep scowls as they just continued staring at each other. Hoping that for some reason any kind of weakness would just magically appear or that someone will let go off the damn flower.

It was incredibly uncomfortable for the both of them. Y/N and Eret both stared directly into each other’s eyes. Pink dusted faces turned towards one another, not daring to move a muscle.

“God, I hate you so much.” Y/N grumbled.

Eret nodded “Believe me the feeling is mutual.”

After a few more seconds of staring and angry expressions they both let go at the same time.

There they stood. Two princes of enemy kingdoms holding each a small bouquet of roses with blushing faces.

If you would ask them about it they would immediately exclaim the blush was just a result of their anger bubbling out.

Eret let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding “Tie?”

Y/N looked down at his own bouquet “Yeah, sure, let’s call it a tie. This is stupid anyhow.”

That was the last time they saw each other for a while.

Since they both were heirs to their respective thrones they soon got sent away to boarding schools in order to get properly trained for their future duties. Besides being educated and introduced what these duties actually entailed, they also got trained in the art of combat.

While most of, if not all, nobles learn how to fight it was something expected from Y/N and Eret. They had to get good at it. A tradition that still stemmed from the waring days of their competing nations.

So for the next four years Y/N was sent away to a boarding school inside his own nation, only later hearing that Eret befell the same fate, which didn’t surprise him.

The years dragged on rather slowly. Most of the subjects were boring but Y/N realized they were important so he put himself through the grueling task of proper studying. The daily training sessions helped him immensely by bringing some sort of change to his every day and tended to look forward to them. Mostly since he became good friends with his coach. A mercenary hired by his family to train him.

Becoming a friend to him, while others tried stay away from Y/N. Most didn’t dare to approach the only heir of their kingdom, others knew he was a bit of a troublemaker and stayed away from him because of it.

Y/N caught himself missing Eret from time to time. While he was annoying and infuriating at best, Y/N couldn’t help but think it was more enjoyable than spending his time alone surrounded by people around his age.

Every now and again his thoughts would always jump back to Eret. Hell, he even once considered writing him a letter before he stopped in his tracks, realizing what he was about to do. Silently chastising himself for it.

Y/N graduated when he was twenty. His parents amazed by his progress threw compliments towards his improved behavior.

“Guess Prince Eret was the problem all along.” His mother noted.

He scoffed, of course Eret was the majority of the reason for the problems. His mother only needed to mention him and Y/N already felt the same annoyance from back then again. Guess some things never change.

It was the time for a lot of nobles to graduate so one family took it up on themselves to prepare a grand ball in order to celebrate these young adults. It also helped to bring all the heirs and influential people together to form new relationships that could be beneficial for their future rule.

Y/N got invited as well.

As a graduation gift his parents bought him fancy new clothes made out of the finest cloth. While he thought it was a bit over the top, it was comfortable so he didn’t complain too much. They even fashioned him with a ceremonial crown that complimented the whole outfit quite nicely.

It was only then that it really sunk in what this all meant for him. He had to act proper no matter what from now on. While people were always aware of him, now they were really watching. This also meant he had to start to properly get into contact with other influential families and nations which meant he had to actually dance on this ball.

So when he and his family stepped out of the wagon that brough them to this event, his heart was beating fast. Y/N was nervous and yet he still managed to put on a confident smile. He didn’t go through all these etiquette classes without learning a few things at least.

When he walked into the ball room, a servant announced his and his families arrival which caused a lot of people to turn their heads. It was the first official outing of an heir to an incredibly strong nation, of course they wanted to see what he was like.

In fact it didn’t take long until Y/N got swarmed by multiple people talking courteously and making conversation with him. He returned the gestures and mingled with the others, curious to see if anyone interesting was here. It was the first time in a long time people didn’t seem to avoid him, even if it was purely for the purpose of forming new beneficial connections.

It beat sitting around alone.

Y/N slowly scanned the huge room with his eyes that’s when he spied something that made his heart figuratively jump into his throat.

In the corner stood someone tall with a shock of brown and fluffy hair that got pushed down by a crown. He wore an amazing suit made out of silk and with a variant of different purples completed with something that resembled a cape. As he talked to the person in front of him he had this huge, genuine, beautiful smile on his face that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

He was handsome that’s all he could say about him. Knocking all the air out of Y/N’s lungs.

Pressing his hand against his madly blushing face Y/N tried to look like he was deep in thought and not just silently checking out this one person way off in the corner.

“Be still my beating heart.” Y/N mumbled as he pressed his free hand on his chest. Feeling his heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage. Luckily no one heard him but he did receive a few worried and confused looks. Guess he wasn’t as sneaky about his display of emotions as he had thought.

Y/N took a deep breath in and coughed in order to calm himself down a bit “I’m sorry to interrupt you all, but I need to go. I need to find something out. It was an honor talking with you and I hope we can continue this later on.”

With all the confidence he didn’t have Y/N slowly made his way towards that person. Something was just pulling him towards him and he needed to at least know his name. It was like his heart and mind both yelled at Y/N.

While walking he could tell that his breath was short. He felt hot and he was certain that his face was still in a lovely shade of red.

Did he just develop a probably one sided crush? Perhaps.

Once he got close enough, he begun to tremble. His knees felt weak and by god he wanted to turn around but something in him just forced him to move on. As if this was his only chance to ever exchange even a word with that stranger.

Y/N was about to put on a polite smile and wave towards him but the stranger was faster and turned towards him.

The stranger audibly and unmistakably gasped. His eyes wide open as his face suddenly turned into a similar shade of red to Y/N.

“Hello.” Y/N begun speaking. He wanted to introduce himself but his voice failed him. Throat and lips dry out of nervousness.

“Y/N?” he spoke with a deep, soothing voice and Y/N had to admit he liked hearing his name coming out of his mouth.

Wait that handsome stranger knew him?

That’s when it hit him. But that can’t be! That was impossible, he would have recognized him immediately!

“Oh. Eret?”

Y/N put his hand against his mouth trying to hide the smile and blush. Why was he feeling like this? Why wasn’t his typical white anger returning? He still had that fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach but something felt different. Maybe it was the maturity from the years or maybe he just imagined it.

Eret was madly blushing and just staring at Y/N as he slowly lifted up his trembling hand “Let’s talk. Would you care for a dance?”

That feeling in his stomach increased as well as the beating of his heart and yet Y/N put his hand into that of Eret’s. Together they walked towards the middle of the room. Slowly beginning to dance.

Y/N was at this point biting his lip. He wanted to talk, say anything but his mind was running in overdrive. No proper sentences would form. Luckily some sort of muscle memory jumped in when it came to the dancing but everything else? No, he was completely screwed.

Why now? Why was he reacting like this?

“You look like you are doing well.” Eret suddenly spoke. His voice trembling almost as much as his hands.

Y/N nodded as he continued moving in tandem with Eret. Their feet skillfully moving around on the dance floor.

“You look good, uh, I mean, you look alright as well, you do look good but I mean you seem to be doing good as well.” After Y/N stammered that out he mentally begun cursing himself out.

He used to wrestle Eret into the mud, why is this happening to him? Why can’t he just go back to his anger, that was easier to deal with. Wait, is that the reason why their anger towards each other held on for so long? Sure, their families had always a rivalry but over time something must have subtly changed concerning their relationship that it managed to end up like this.

Y/N felt like a lovesick pre-teen and he hated it.

Eret suddenly let out a short laugh “I’m guessing you didn’t expect this as well?”

Y/N raised his eyebrows “I- I have no idea what you mean. Like, seriously, what exactly of this do you mean?” Of course his nervousness showed itself via him ranting his thoughts off.

“Us meeting like this again.”

“Seeing our past track record I feel like it was inevitable, though this time it certainly does feel different.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Eret smirked and gave Y/N a wink only to end up turning back into a blushing mess himself.

Now Y/N begun to chuckle, his blush ever present on his face, he pressed his forehead against Eret’s shoulder. Trying his best to hide his face from his view, not willing to give Eret the satisfaction that he succeeded in whatever the hell he just did.

Instead of stopping the two continued to dutifully dance. The best way for a private conversation was while dancing after all but the two were too busy snickering at themselves.

While Y/N had his head still pressed against Eret, Eret spoke up “I’m glad you are here, Y/N. Meeting you here like that again after these years, it made me realize something.”

“Like what?” The same was true of him, of course but he was almost scared of saying it out loud.

Y/N looked back up again but Eret hesitated. His eyes landed on Y/N’s lips only to immediately snap back up to his eyes.

So when he asked “May I?” Y/N knew exactly what he meant.

He gave him a nod which resulted in the two stopping to dance. Eret placed one of his hands against Y/N’s jawline and the other continued to rest at his side as he closed the space between their lips. At first softly brushing their lips for a small second but then Eret went back in pressing his lips properly on Y/N’s only to separate after a few moments.

Y/N put his hands on Eret’s chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart beneath his fingertips “I thought you hated me.” He noted smugly.

Eret laughed “I guess we both were wrong in some way.” He immediately dove back into Y/N’s lips, deepening the kiss, ignoring the confused and surprised noises from all the other guests.

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