#OH and a grey nose. can’t believe i forgot the best part about her

[clickbeetle]

11 year old me with a special interest in cat breeds would be so pissed at me for not knowing what breed lainey is

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[startanewdream]

the visit

Written for @blackinnonweek though I totally forgot to post it in time.

Here's a little angst Marlene Lives AU, just in case:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of the children’s laughter greets her as soon as she disapparates in an empty alley two blocks from her house.

Marlene turns automatically, standing in the shadows a few seconds longer than she should, just watching the children in the nearby playground. They are playing, enjoying the end of the afternoon; today their attention is directed to three or four dogs that are playing chase with them.

As she looks, the biggest dog there, a black thin mutt dog turns to look at her, crooking its head to the side as if it can see there in the shadow of the alley, despite the fact that it’s protected by magic.

Dogs can sense magic, an old voice whispers into her head, and she remembers being eighteen and hopeful and in love, laying on the grass on a Muggle park—he always favoured Muggle places—, watching people walking with their dogs. He was smirking, guarding a secret he had never shared. Dogs are special.

She shakes her head, turning around and leaving the alley towards the backstreet. It’s a short walk to her house, less than two minutes, but still Marlene counts at least two sets of eyes over her. She is tempted to joke that she wouldn’t have survived the war if she couldn’t tell when she is being followed, but she stays quiet. They are just doing their job, pointless as it is.

It’s not like he will come to her, not when… not when he has ignored her for twelve years.

She wonders vaguely if this surveillance is why Remus accepted the job at Hogwarts. If he is tired of being followed as well.

But Marlene can’t know because they haven’t talked for years.

She hasn’t talked with most of the Order for years.

The darkness of the house greets her. She turns on the lights, moves to the kitchen to prepare her welcome-home tea, and sorts through the correspondence that arrived while she was out. Nothing important, and a part of her wonders if her mail is being watched as well; she doubts that prisoners on the run would send an owl, but still the idea of aurors searching through her Witch Weekly magazine is kind of fun...

The water has boiled. She pours the water over the leaves, looking outside; there is the sound of barks coming from the street, but she can’t see the dogs there. Maybe they are chasing after the hidden aurors…

A sound of footsteps alert her. It’s very soft, enough that someone else might not have listened but, again, Marlene survived a war. She realizes belatedly that she left her wand in the table behind her, so she does the next best thing. She grabs a knife from the sink, turning and throwing it in the direction of the kitchen door before she can even blink.

The knife vanishes in the living room, hitting nothing.

When she turns back, Sirius Black is sitting by the table.

And he looks… terrible, just like the photos in the Daily Prophet that she tried to avoid despite the fact they were everywhere. There is nothing of the man she once loved in the ghost that currently haunts her kitchen, except—

His grey eyes—pale and with dark circles under, gaunt and so scared—shine as he looks at her. A longing that shouldn’t be familiar and yet it is, as true as it was years ago, flourishes on her chest and she wants to hold on to him, to make this right somehow, to wake up from that strange dream…

But she is awake. And Sirius is dangerous, that’s the only truth she has ever received.

Marlene eyes her wand on the table. It’s closer to him, but he looks so thin that maybe she is faster? But then again, he was sharp enough to break out…

“Tea?” he asks, voice raspy and unused. “You always hated it.”

Marlene blinks. “Things change.”

“Oh, I know,” he whispers, his eyes moving over her face, taking in every detail. “I see.”

What does he see, Marlene wonders. Sometimes she looks in the mirror and she doesn’t think she aged a day. Other times she asks who is the woman staring back at her.

“You look beautiful,” Sirius adds and somehow this makes her laugh. It’s probably the insane kind of laugh that she learned from him ages ago, but Sirius only looks confused. “What’s wrong?”

“The most wanted criminal in the country just broke into my house to compliment me,” she says, drying the tears from her eyes. The mirth is gone. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He pauses. “Why?”

“There are two or three aurors watching me every step. They will probably be here anytime—”

“They don’t know I’m here,” he answers confidently. “And they won’t.”

“I could tell them,” Marlene says, narrowing her eyes.

“You could have warned them minutes ago.”

She could and they both know it. “I should,” she whispers, and suddenly she is twenty-one again, confused and lost after her family is gone and life as she knew broken, her best friend killed and Sirius…

“I missed you,” he says, standing up now, his fingers trembling even as he doesn’t move closer.

Fury and bitterness flood her. “No, you didn’t.”

“I—”

“I went to visit you. Twice, because I wasn’t stupid enough in the first time. And you refused to see me. You refused me.”

“I… What was there for you to see? I couldn’t have another good memory for them to suck—”

“It wasn’t about you,” she hisses, hating herself for keeping her voice down so it doesn’t attract any attention. “I just wanted answers!”

“I am innocent,” he says, sounding only broken. “I would have sworn it and… you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Then why—”

“I’d never betray James. You know that.”

It’s all Marlene has ever thought in the past twelve years. “All I know is that James is dead and so is Lily and Peter and—”

“No, it’s not like this, Peter…” He closes his fist, enraged and suddenly menacing. “He is alive and I’ll find him.”

“So you can kill him for real this time?”

“Yes,” he admits, not ashamed, and Marlene remembers it took a lot for Sirius to feel bashful about anything. “We changed the secret keeper. He betrayed them, Lene, not me.”

Lene. No one has called that like that in twelve years.

“Azkaban did make you crazy,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Crazier, actually. Pretending you—”

“Look at me and say you never questioned it. Say that you believe I really did all those things.”

“I…”

Marlene remembers waking up the first day of November and looking at the newspaper and not understanding anything. She remembers facing the dreadful journey to Azkaban only to be turned away.

The prisoner didn’t authorize any visit.

Did you tell him who it was? (Did you tell him it was Lene?)

Yes. He doesn’t want to see you.

“You’d have told me,” she says. One of those mornings or nights, when we laid in bed, catching our breaths, body still sore after we made love, you’d have told me. I held no secrets for you.

He looks sorrowful. “There is so much I never told you,” he admits, a note of guilt in his voice. “I am sorry, Lene.”

She closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, and she hears soft footsteps. Her heart pumps in her chest but the touch she waits never comes; when she opens her eyes, the backdoor is open and there is no one with her.

She runs to her backyard, but other than a few dogs running in the street, Marlene doesn’t see anyone else.

Her wand waits for her on the table; he could have picked it, he could have done something, but all Sirius did was… look for her. I missed you.

She breathes slowly, remembering their meeting even as she tries to forget it, lock it away somewhere no one can take it from her. Then she grabs her coat and leaves the house, running quickly.

It’s no surprise that one of the aurors catches up with her; it’s the young woman with pink hair that came before to question her, and she looks almost apologetic to interrupt Marlene.

“Wotcher,” she says, winking. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the Ministry,” Marlene says, not stopping to answer; she is close to the alley now and those dogs seemed to be following them as well. “I want to check some old archives.”

“Oh.” The woman presses her lips for a moment. “You know I’ll need to report this later. Which files?”

“The one about Peter Pettigrew’s death,” Marlene replies, turning in the spot. The last thing she hears before she vanishes is a dog howling though there is no moon.

[sunrisefairy]

Secret moments

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader Summary: Sirius and reader are dating in secret and reader has had enough.  Warning: just a big of angst, mentions of sex (blink and you’ll miss it), swearing, mention of alcohol.

A/N: for @theweasleyslut writing challenge. Based off the prompts “There’s people here” “I know”

taglist: if your name is crossed out i couldn’t tag you @theweasleyslut @anxiousblanketqueen @accioweaslcy @widowdays @inglourious-imagines @garbdump @star-sunshine-sage @weelittleweasley @a-dusty-emerald @starlightkell @omghufflepuff @weasleyprincess @j-amespotter @gryffindorgirl @siriusbarnesslut @joytyce397 @layaaaa @thegirlinthelibrary​ @ch0colatefr0gs​ @weasleyyy​ @amourtentiaa​ @kaslupin

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A volcano. You can feel it; in the pit of your stomach, angrily bubbling and ready to erupt, to destroy whatever is in its path and right now that’s yours and Sirius’ relationship. If that’s what you can even call it. You and Sirius had been friends ever since first year when you charmed his quill to squirt ink on his robes whenever he picked it up. Young Sirius was equal parts embarrassed and stunned when he locked eyes with the pretty young witch sat at the front of the classroom who shot a smirk and a cheeky wink his way. To this day Sirius doesn’t think he’s blushed as hard as he did in that moment. Almost instantly you seamlessly slipped you way into a tight knitted friendship with Sirius and the rest of the marauders, the 5 of you hardly to be found separately. You seemed to gravitate towards the raven-haired boy the most though, Sirius rapidly became your best friend and the two of you were joined at the hip.

About 4 months ago, you and Sirius crossed the line from best friends to something more when you shared a heated kiss after a late-night study session. The two of you promised it was a one-time thing… it wasn’t. Months of sneaking around, stolen kisses behind closed doors, quick fucks between classes and private dates when the rest of the marauders had detentions. Your secret relationship with Sirius started off perfectly, neither of you wanted the rest of the world to know, you were content with this just being something you and Sirius shared in private but that was 4 months ago. And right now you were over it, over having to watch girls and boys flirt with Sirius right in front of you, over making up excuses as to why you don’t want to swap saliva with the tall Ravenclaw James tried to set you up with, over being Sirius private girlfriend.

Which led to this moment right now, in your dorm room, fighting. Your blood was boiling and pumping rapidly inside your veins after having to witness Sirius decline another date from a pretty Hufflepuff. The air felt thick and heavy as your voices raised higher and got louder, you could only hope your conversation couldn’t be heard from the common room below.

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you don’t want to tell anyone about us?” the words jab at Sirius’ heart strings almost hard enough to make him stand down and wrap his arms around your smaller frame and whisper how much he cares for you. But his emotions have the better of him and Sirius Black isn’t one to back down.

He scoffs, masking the sharp pain stabbing his chest whenever he sees you upset and the knife in his heart twists knowing he’s the one causing your pain, “of course not! Sorry for not wanting to parade my girlfriend around like a piece of meat.” His voice is thick with sarcasm.

“Oh yes I forgot,” you glare harshly at the boy in front of you, “clearly my memory has failed me because you definitely did not like parading Julianne Sommers around when you were dating her in 4th year and definitely did not suck her face off and grope the poor thing every chance you got. And don’t even get my started on Jonathon Michaels in 5th year, how that boy didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen is beyond me because you liked to make it very clear the two of you were dating. Don’t give me that bullshit excuse Sirius because I know it’s not true. You had no problem letting the world know you were dating them, so what’s so different about me?” Your chest feels heavy and you’re tired; tired of this, tired of playing pretend.

Sirius knows very well the true reason why he wants to keep your relationship a secret and it isn’t because he’s ashamed of you or scared of the friendly teasing James, Remus and Peter will be sure to send your way. It kills him to see other blokes talk about how fit you are and whenever he sees you, he just wants to walk right up and cup your cheeks and kiss you so deeply everyone knows you’re taken. But the truth is, he’s frightened. He’s frightened because he loves you so fucking much and he’s never loved anyone like this. He never thought of himself as a coward. Sirius gladly punched Samuel Stevens (who is twice Sirius’ size) in the nose after he pinched your arse in 5th year, he’s never once backed down from a fight when someone is teasing Remus and never fails to stand up for Peter and will always stand by James’ side. But ‘brave’ Sirius Black is scared of loving you, in particular Sirius is scared of everyone knowing he loves you. Sirius Black is a coward because he’s terrified that if people and merlin forbid you, know about his love then that will destroy the bubble the two of you have created. And if staying in this private bubble and keeping your relationship a secret is how he can keep everything together then he’ll gladly do it. Because he can’t lose you, he can’t risk you leaving him, the thought of everyone knowing petrifies him. He’s worried that it will taint your relationship.

Sirius chokes on his words, because I love you, he wants to say but he struggles to get them out, in fear of ruining what you have but it seems he’s doing that anyway when you leave the room and slam the door on your way out.

….

“Oh my ghosts! You look stunning babes,” Marlene wolf whistles and grips your shoulders to spin you around wanting to see your whole outfit. “You trying to impress anyone tonight hun?”

You have to crane your neck to hear her over the music pumping around the common room. “Nope, no one to impress.” You mutter sadly. It’s been over a week since your fight with Sirius. Neither of you have made the effort to apologise, although Sirius might have tried once or twice but you refused to be alone with the boy. You were angry and pissed and needed Sirius to realise that if he wanted you then it was all or nothing. You were tired of hiding.

“Well, who needs stupid boys anyway when we have each other!” Marlene declares dragging you to the drinks table to pour you some of the questionable looking punch.

Most of the night is spent dancing on the makeshift dance floor with Marlene, Mary and Lily; hips swinging and hair flowing, seemingly not a care in the world. It was just the distraction you were after, although you knew eventually you were going to see Sirius, given it was a party in the Gryffindor common room you couldn’t expect Sirius not to make an appearance.

“Nice to see the boys finally showed up,” Mary comments nodding her head in the direction of the stairs which lead up to the boy’s dorm. The 4 marauders come clambering down the stairs clearly ready to have some fun. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Sirius, clad in a dark button up which he might as well not even bother wearing with how many buttons he has undone, half his muscly, toned chest on display. His dark locks fall lusciously against his shoulders and if you look closely you can spot some black eyeliner that makes his piercing grey eyes pop even more, he looks utterly gorgeous and your heart plummets into your stomach at the realisation of spending the reminder of the night watching him flirt with people that aren’t you.

You don’t even notice Sirius push his way through the crowd towards you until he’s towering over you. He’s standing so close that you can smell his aftershave, it’s both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. After a beat of the two of you staring at each other with no words you realise how close you are, way too close to convince everyone that you’re just friends. However, after the fight you aren’t 100% sure if you and Sirius are even still dating. Just as you’re about to take a step back from Sirius, he brings his hands to cup your face forcing you to look at him. Your eyes widen as you stare up at Sirius and notice the familiar glint in his eyes, you know that look and any hints of uncertainty were squashed when you catch the way his eyes flicker down to your lips. It feels as it time slows to a complete stop when Sirius leans down clearly trying to meet your soft lips.

Your hands fly up and press firmly against his hard chest, halting his movements. You frantically look around the room and notice multiple pairs of eyes watching you. “What are you doing? There’s people here y’know?” You question, Sirius must clearly be off his face, too intoxicated to register the room full of people watching your every movements. Surely, he pregamed a little too hard and fully believes it’s just the two of you in the common room because why else would he be standing here with his large hands caressing your face so gently?

Sirius smirks, little did you know there wasn’t one drop of alcohol in his body, however he was drunk on you. “I know,” he whispers so quietly it was almost swept away before connecting your lips together in a deep kiss.

Sirius’ lips have always felt like home; warm and soft and never failed to make butterflies and fireworks explode in your tummy, his kisses always made your head dizzy and knees weak. You couldn’t believe you had gone a full week without them, without him. The music around you fades into nothing, all you can focus on his Sirius lips and tongue and how they dance against yours and his hands as they travel from your face down to your hips, clinging onto you as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You let your own hands get tangled in his curly hair, determined to show him you don’t want him to go anywhere. Ever.

You find yourself chasing his lips when he finally pulls away, breathlessly. He chuckles at your movements and pecks your lips lightly twice before opening his eyes, he finds you already staring up at him confusion smeared all across your features.

“M’sorry for being a dick, I care for you so much baby and I was shit scared that if everyone knew about us then somehow it would ruin what we had and I’m terrified of losing you. But I realise now that I was throwing it all away by keeping you a secret, so I’m not going to do that anymore.” Sirius then looks over your head and nods at James. “Now Prongs,” James turns off the record player which causes a few people to groan at the loss of music. James gives Sirius a cheesy grin, you see Remus and Peter standing beside the bespectacled boy all 3 of them giving Sirius enthusiastic thumbs up.

You turn your attention back to Sirius who is now standing on top of the nearby table. You and the rest of the Gryffindor house all gawk the boy, uncertain what is about to happen.

“My darling Y/N, I want everyone here tonight to bear witness to what I’m about to say,” Sirius has always been dramatic and now was no expection. He clears his throat, raising his voice to ensure everyone can hear him, “Y/N L/N you are my everything and I love you. I’m sorry for being a complete tosser but it would make me a very, very happy man if you agree to be my girlfriend? Again.”

The smile that consumes your face is so big and bright it hurts your cheeks, you know you look like a proper sap but you don’t care, “get down here you big idiot so I can kiss you.” You motion for Sirius to join you again.

It was Sirius’ turn to grin as he jumps down from the table and makes his way towards you, “is that a yes then?”

You roll your eyes playfully at him, wrapping your arms around his waist, Sirius immediately wraps his around your shoulders giving them a light squeeze, “of course Sirius.”

Sirius doesn’t think his smile could get any bigger, well that was until he heard you mumble 4 words into his chest. He knew in that moment he was a complete goner for you. I love you too.

[riversofmars]

Sometimes 13 just poses as a student and attends rivers lectures.

Hellooo! I’ve been saving this prompt for a long time cause I love it so much and now finally did something exciting with it! This is actually a little collaboration I did with @serawalkerwrites. She keeps getting asked to write for DW and never has, so we decided to do a little thing together! Basically, we took turns writing paragraphs! She's written the River bits and I wrote for 13. Really fun thing to do because our styles are quite different but it worked :D Apart from the fact that she made me write in present tense which I hate lmao! Also, if you like American Horror Story or Ratched, check out her stuff!

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2300

Read on AO3 or below

Like The First Time

“I might be younger and far prettier than the other Professors at this University, but that doesn't mean I don't expect the same level of good behaviour from my students,“ Professor River Song barks up the rows of lecture hall seating, slapping her papers on the desk. She tosses her bouncing curls of hair and brings her hands to her hips, watching the chatting students in the back row and waiting for them to take notice. That blonde girl seems to whispering at some speed, with enthusiastic hand gestures to boot. “That means you in the back row!“ She raises her voice again, finally getting the young blondes attention.

The Doctor hadn’t been able to stop herself. When River had started talking about the Venusian tomb she’d visited not long ago, it had been a perfect opportunity to tell the other students about the time she’d been invited to a funeral service there. It’s an incredibly stupid thing to do, of course. She isn’t meant to interact with anyone - as strictly speaking - she isn’t meant to be here. For a start she isn’t actually a student at Luna University; for another, she could very well be causing some damage to the fabric of space and time. Visiting her wife earlier in her timeline is risky… but she hasn’t been able to stay away. Sometimes, when the Doctor misses her a lot, she sits in on her lectures, right at the back. She knows River won’t recognise her and she never speaks to her… there’s no harm no foul is there? However, a slip up is bound to happen eventually.

Now, as she looks at River, who is shooting her piercing glare from the front of the auditorium, the Doctor realises she’s messed up. The Doctor looks left and right to the other students, hoping it’s one of them River is scolding.

“Yes you, don't act like I cant see you -“ River lifts her eyebrows at the petulant student. “Forget it, I’m not shouting at you from down here, stay behind after class. Then we’ll talk, and believe me you won’t like what I have to say.“ River rolls her eyes away, a taut huff tumbling from her lips to find her inner calm once again, before continuing. “Now where were we…“

The Doctor shrinks back in her seat, her neighbouring students giving her sympathetic smiles. Others just snicker and smirk. River has a reputation for strictness, no-one messes with her…The Doctor’s made a big mistake. She glances to the exit; she can still escape this situation. But if she does, she’ll never be able to come back. Perhaps it’s time to face her wife at last. She gnaws her bottom lip anxiously and tries her best to sit still for the remainder of the lecture.

As a shrill bell rings out, signalling the end of class and an end to the Doctors torture, River watches the troublemaker while she packs her things. Students rise to their feet, stuff their bags with books and file out in an eager swarm, heading into the midday sunshine. But not this student. She’s bouncing down the steps to the front, an epic grey coat and too-short trousers have her piquing River’s interest before they start talking. “Ah, good. At least you decided to be smart this time and not run-off out the doors. I would have found you,“ River informs the girl, whose swinging her arms and looking guilty. If this were any other circumstance, then River might have bought her a drink. But as it is, she's her student, however adorable she is. “Care to tell me what is so pressing you had to take time out of my lecture to talk about it?“

“Ah well, you know, the whole thing about the Venusian tomb, just brought back some memories to when I was learning Venusian aikido. There was this one time when I was invited to a funeral at one, which - you know - is a big deal for any outsider and…“ The Doctor starts rambling, unable to stop herself. A grin spreads across her features, hoping to entertain River with her story, as she had done so many times in the past. River always liked to listen to recounts of her adventures.

“Venusian Aikido?“ River folds her arms, skeptical. “They don’t teach that to just anyone. I happen to be a black belt myself.“

“Oh I know.“ The Doctor grins.

“It’s not on my resumé,“ River parries, her eyebrows lifting into an arch. “So someone told you. Perhaps at this funeral, you supposedly attended?“ River laughs doubting the girls claims. “No-one just gets invited to a Venusian funeral, or a wedding, or any kind of ceremony unless you’re a honoured noble. Which you clearly cannot be, no offence Sweetie but -“ River pauses. She stares at the blonde and her mismatched clothing, then bunches her lips. “What did you say your name was?“

The Doctor doesn’t answer immediately. This is it, the moment of truth. She could just tell her… surely there’s no harm in it. This is River Song after losing her parents in Manhattan, and before Darillium; there is no real reason to keep her identity from her. Apart from the fact that she isn't sure how she will react. They didn’t see each other for so long in between Manhattan and Darillium, enough for River to come to doubt if the Doctor had ever truly loved her. Her words still echo through the back of the Doctor’s mind now. The Doctor doesn’t and has never loved me. - But you are the woman who loves the Doctor. - Yes I am. I never denied it. But whoever said he loved me back? Those words still haunt the Doctor, even after spending 24 years with her in which she’d done everything she could to convince her of just the opposite.

“Jane Smith.“ The Doctor answers at last with a thin smile.

River lets out a loud chortle. “Jane Smith? Of course it is,“ River replies not believing her for a second. Who has the most standard name of all names like that? River postures a little, shuffles her papers around into a neat pile already thinking of the lunch that’s waiting for her in the refectory, because she's not getting any truth from this girl. “I don't recall your name on my student register; so…how about you tell me the truth.“ River hooks her bag over her shoulder and takes a long stride forward, claiming the podium as her space, the lecturer to the student. River examines her, because if she’s not her student, then who is she? All beautiful round eyes and choppy blonde hair, River certainly doesn't recognise her. Should she, recognise her? “Or you can come to my office and explain yourself there.“

“I uhh…“ The Doctor swallows hard. Of course she doesn’t believe her, people rarely do initially; but usually she can use her psychic paper to back up her identity. She knows River would see right through that if she tried it, so that isn’t an option. “Well, I’ve actually got somewhere else to be. A really very important…thing. A thing that can’t wait, so…it was really nice talking to you, brilliant lecture. Slightly exaggerated in some parts but - you know - got to keep the students engaged…“ Her eyes flick to the door. She’s parked her TARDIS in a supply closet, so it’s not far away.

“Are you calling my stories embellished?“ River trails after this Jane Smith towards the door, flabbergasted. She’s a bone fide time traveller, she knows her subject matter better than anyone in the known universe, except  - “It’s not as though you can possible know better? How old are you anyway, twelve?“ She carries on trying to get under the girl’s skin, who is clearly hiding something.  “Where on earth are you going? You realise that’s the closet.“

“Why are you following me?“ The Doctor had hoped to simply shake her but River seems to have different ideas. She doesn’t dare open the supply closet door, River would see the TARDIS and she would be done for. But where else could she possibly go? She looks around anxiously for a way out.

“Mmm it seems you might be trapped…“ River drops her voice to a knowing whisper. She smirks, delighting in watching the girl fret.

“I just… forgot which way I… uhh…“ The Doctor struggles for a response suddenly aware of how close River is getting to her. And that smirk… She knows it all too well. Like a lioness stalking her prey. She can’t even think of a credible lie to get her out of her predicament.

“Which way you meant to go?“ River bobs her finger on her lip pretending to think hard about it. “My office is this way, if you didn't get the hint earlier.“ River ghosts her hands over the girls hips, rubbing into her hipbones with her thumbs and sucking her lips and humming. “Jane Smith. I appreciate the code name. You can slip me your paper later, I’ll be sure to mark it up a grade, well, depending on your performance of course.“ River winks coyly.

“I…“ The Doctor’s mouth suddenly feels really dry, she can’t speak. Flirting and reading innuendo isn’t exactly her forte but River can’t possibly be more obvious with her advances. Is this what River is like when she isn’t around? The Doctor isn’t sure whether to be flattered or hurt. They’re not exactly exclusive but she doesn’t like her nose rubbed in it like this. But at the same time, perhaps this is an opportunity… She could be with River without having to reveal her identity… but is that something she wanted to do under false pretences?

“Good talk, come along!“ River grins and leads the way across the lecture hall to the staff door, and unlocks it with a quick key-twizzle, then presses the door open wide to wave ‚Jane‘ through. River uses the opportunity to loop her arm around Jane’s waist and scoops her in the right direction down the hall towards her office.

The Doctor doesn’t know what to do. Things are moving fast, River doesn’t even give her a chance to protest. Her hearts seem to skip their beats when River pulls her along.

Once inside, River tosses the door shut and wastes no time in pushing Jane against it, roaming her hands up and down her sides and snapping the elastic braces. “These are retro, but I can go with the flow, off they coooome…“ River sings as she yanks them off Jane’s shoulders, then the coat, and where is the edge of this t-shirt? River is keen to feel her hands up Jane’s abdomen, and the flush of her skin. River knows her hands are rough - years of archeological digs will do that to a girl - but Jane is young and sweet enough to need a little roughing up.

“River…“ The Doctor tries to protest, this was moving too fast. Her breath catches when River untucks her t-shirt. The Doctor is still getting used to this new body and she suddenly feels very hot.

“First names already? My my…“ River tosses her mane of hair out the way as she leans in to kiss Jane on the neck, biting her and enjoying teasing her far too much. “Sweetie you do give yourself away, even in this body,“ River tickles her teeth along the Doctor’s collarbone searching for the next spot to bite. “I mean, I like it darling, but give me a heads next time -“ River explores the Doctor’s petite body with enthusiasm. “My apparatus is your apparatus and all that, got to get my head around it.“

“You knew?!“ The Doctor blurts out and pushes her off, holds her at arms length. “And you just played along?!“ She’s breathless from River’s kisses but her outrage overshadows her arousal.

River unbuttons her shirt confidently, tearing the sides apart and presenting her body to the Doctor once again, even if it’s all new for the Doctor, River is still River. “Well what did you think? I do this with all my students, Jane Smith?“ She smiles a broad, proud River smile and holds her hands out for the Doctor to take. “I’m married, remember?“ Mutually exclusive is…a bit of stretch, there might be other husbands here and there, but there is only one Doctor. “So, wife, how about a little ride on the merry-go-round with this new body?“

The Doctor just stares at her for a moment. It’s been a while since Darillium but she still recalls every moment, and River is just as beautiful as she remembers. And just as much of a temptress. She bites her lip, suddenly feeling very insecure. It would be her first time in this body…and it’s her first time being a woman as far as she can remember. That’s a lot to be anxious about.

Softening the come-on, River takes the Doctors hands and steps closer to her, squeezing her hands in reassurance. “I knew it would happen eventually, a wife and not a husband. It’s okay, you know.“ River takes a deep breath, and kisses her wife properly for the first time. Her lips are thinner softer and taste of cinnamon, but she kisses back just like her husband did. Her Doctor. “I love you. This adorable new body is just a bonus,“ she says gently, then kisses her nose for extra effect.

The Doctor can’t help but chuckle as she looks up to her. This was new. She is shorter than her! Though only due to River’s ridiculously high heels.

“I love you, too.“ She whispers nuzzling into her crook of her neck as she wraps her arms around her. River smells exactly the way she remembers, like sunshine on a spring day. “I’ve missed you so much.“ She confesses.

[rose-blooms-red]

Significant Others/troopers under their command react to Edee's latest volley of obnoxious gifts :D

Did I start this 3 months ago? Yes. Did I also write over 2k of it Today? Also yes. Productivity is a Relative Term. 

[read on ao3]

Fox twitches as he reads the clearly handmade voucher. Says, pleasant as anything, “I’m going to fucking murder him.”

Ponds hums, looking over Fox’s shoulder, “It’s sweet. Probably.”

Fox makes a noise in the back of his throat that isn’t entirely describable by any known language. 

Does he still have that clock he found during that one shopping trip? The one with that awful fucking peach, mustard, and grey-blue combination that spat out an eeopie’s mating call every half hour? He’d been planning on saving it he remembers but—

“Telling you to take a break like that,” Ponds continues, like he can’t hear the way Fox’s higher reasoning is currently dying a slow painful death, “very considerate.”

Fox grits his teeth. Needs must, and Fox needs to crush the little fucker’s spirit thoroughly under heel. He’ll have to take it out of storage tomorrow.

“No.”

Ponds giggles, “I’m sure it’ll be entertaining at least.”

“Hondo,” Fox reiterates, digging his elbow back into Ponds’ stomach. 

Ponds drapes himself over Fox’s back, knocks the side of his head against Fox’s, “As I said,” he simpers, “entertaining.”

Fox makes a disgusted sound, sneers down at the offending…. Gift.

‘All expense-paid cruise on the Hondo Ohkana ‘Sights of The Galaxy’ tour!!!!!!’ It proclaims in neon colours and excessive exclamation marks, ‘Very Romantic and Exciting!’

“When’s it say it’s good for?” Ponds asks, like he’s actually contemplating it.

“No.”

Ponds snatches the voucher out of his hands anyway, “Oh good! We aren’t busy that ten-day.”

Fox’s hand twitches, “I am not getting on a fucking ship with fucking Hondo Ohkana, Ponds.”

“Mhm, ‘course not Fox.” Ponds responds absentmindedly, pats his arm lightly in the way that means they are definitely getting on the fucking ship with fucking Hondo Ohkana, “We’ve got a ten-day to pack and get everything in order, that should be enough.” He nods to himself, breezes out of the room with a vague sense of purpose as he flits around the house, presumably for things to take on a ‘very romantic and exciting’ trip.

Fox is going to murder somebody, preferably Hondo, or Neyo. 

He hears the sound of Ponds grabbing the DC-15A’s and he grimaces, ugh, time to find the fucking holdout blasters, those things haven’t been serviced in at least a ten-day, and he needs to check on the blaster packs for the DC-17’s. He can’t remember if he restocked the things after the last time he used them. 

If they’re going on the fucking trip, they’re gonna be well fucking stocked.

(Fox manages not to murder Hondo, but it’s a very near fucking thing.

He does come back from the trip in a much better mood though, other than the twitch he’s developed from listening to Hondo all day. Ponds is annoyingly amused and smug about it. Fox ignores it, like he does every other fucking annoyance in his life. 

He shuts down the talk of another trip like it happening any time in this fucking century before Ponds even opens his mouth to respond. Once was fucking enough thank you.)

__________

Colt closes his eyes, casts a net about his mind for a sliver of patience and finds his supply has dwindled something awful.

When he opens his eyes again both nuisance and potted plant are still there. Gree smiles winningly and Colt smells danger. 

Or maybe he just smells the plant, because that is the thing overwhelming everything else right now. He glares down at it, it looks harmless, mostly, in it’s large pot but already Colt can hear the sounds of flies swarming around.

“That is not a houseplant,” Colt says, relatively tamely in his opinion, given that the overwhelming smell it emits is decay, “that is the type of plant one shoots and hopes doesn't survive the encounter.”

“It’s a very rare and endangered plant,” Gree lies, grin earnest and eyes bright with humour.

“It’s a pile of banthashit dressed up in vegitive form.”

“It’s an Amorphophallus titanum,” Gree corrects, “and it’s very rare, it’s one of the largest unbranched inflorescence in the galaxy that isn’t also carnivorous in any shape or form.”

Colt gives the plant a dubious look, “I’ll believe that when it doesn’t smell like it just ate and digested something.”

Gree shrugs, “It’s possible it’s a type of carrion flower…. but in the name of protecting it from extinction there’s no one I’d trust more than you.”

Colt twitches, he has no clue what a carrion flower is or how that accounts for the way it smells like Colt has a pile of corpses rotting away on his front step, but he does not like it at all.

The worst part is that he can’t actually tell whether this is Gree being serious or him pulling a shithead move. Because this is exactly the type of thing Gree would genuinely do and also the type of thing Gree would do just to fuck with him.

Behind him someone gags and Colt twitches.

“Fine,” he grits out, and Gree’s smile tries for sunshine and comes up partly cloudy and fully shiteating.

“Wonderful, thanks Colt.”

“Please leave.” 

Gree laughs as he leaves and Colt closes the door with a sigh.

“It smells like someone died over there,” Blitz calls out and Colt groans.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Havoc sniggers, “It really does sir, we might have to keep the Little’s away for a few days, wouldn’t want one of ‘em puking.”

Colt winces, that image does enough to convince him of the necessity, the only thing that could be worse right now is over a dozen Little’s sicking up from the smell. “Might be for the best.”

Blitz hums, looking at the now closed door in interest, “How likely is it that he was pulling your leg?”

Colt slumps into his chair, “50/50” he admits and Blitz raises his eyebrows.

“That is almost more concerning. What the kriff did they put in your batch.”

“Mistakes,” Colt grumbles back. This is why he’s the oldest, he’s the only one in the entire batch who managed to wrangle any sense out of his tube and keep it all the way through.

Havoc laughs and Blitz snorts, then looks like he immediately regrets it, “Ugh, Colt your batch is full of sadists I’m not gonna get the smell out of my nose for weeks.”

“It’s probably seeped into the clothes at this point,” Havoc agrees and Colt groans.

(When Shaak comes home she takes one look at the plant and can’t seem to decide whether to grimace or smile.

“Apparently,” he drawls, “it’s a very endangered plant that’s been entrusted to my care.”

A burst of laughter ripples out into the room and Shaak smiles, hand covering her lips as her shoulders shake minutely, Colt forgets about the death plant for a second as he looks up at her, heart stopping for a moment in the split second it takes her to swallow her laughter back down and he wants nothing more than to pull that sound out from her again.

It takes him a minute to realize that at some point he’d started smiling. He can’t seem to stop it, but there are worse things to find himself unable to stop doing.

“It’s commonly known as a type of carrion flower,” she tells him finally, laughter lacing her tone, “otherwise known as a corpse flower for the smells they produce. It is not endangered, though there are those who agree that it might not be too much of a loss if it was.”

Colt groans. Shaak giggles and Colt finds himself forgetting for a second to plot his revenge.

Maybe Gree will get off a bit lighter this time, if only because Colt got to hear that bright laughter. 

He hums, “Plant it far, far, far away from the house?” Shaak smiles, presses a kiss to his forehead.

“That, my dear Colt, sounds like a brilliant plan.”)

__________

Gree gives the box a look of suspicious distrust that makes Barriss giggle and Decker snicker. 

It’s a big box, about the size of his torso and Gree has seen that bland, even smile too many times before to trust the contents of the box.

“Fox,” he warns and Fox’s grin goes sickeningly sweet.

“Gree, Baby Brother Dearest,” he drawls and Gree can hear the capital letters what the fuck, “I put my heart and soul into this you know, I’m hurt, really I am.”

That, Gree thinks sourly, is the worst load of banthashit he’s ever heard, and he’s had to listen to ‘scientific lectures’ given by people who read maybe one Edupad and then promptly forgot all of the information in the Edupad and decided whatever half-remembered thing left was Fact and Truth and refused to listen to Reason…. or sources and cited works.

Gree was very annoyed about that one, he’d put Effort into that paper thank you very much and he’d taken the class to learn things, not whatever that had been.

Fox wiggles the box in his hands around, expression pleasant and smile sharp.

Gree sighs. At least, he assures himself as he takes the box, it won’t be as bad as whatever happened after Fox and Ponds had come back from Neyo’s…… Gift.

Maybe.

The box is squishy. Boxes are not supposed to be squishy.

Gree has a Bad Feeling about this. He raises an eyebrow, Fox doesn’t even twitch.

Behind him Barriss is watching the exchange with wide, mirth filled eyes and a hand covering her mouth. Decker has long since lost the battle of keeping his snickering quiet and the rest of Gree’s so called loyal troopers of Green company watch with rapt attention.

He sighs again, loud and long-suffering, Fox’s smile never shrinks a shade less than serial killer pleased.

Gree unwraps the wrapping flimsi with ease, and then stares with distant horror at the plasti-cling underneath it. Not a box, no, plasti-cling.

It’s layered.

Gree twitches and reaches for one of his vibroblades.

“It’s very delicate,” Fox informs him, just as he gets the vibroblade out of it’s holder.

“Oh?” Gree asks, really quite pleasantly given the plasti-cling is so layered he can’t see a damn thing through it.

“Extremely,” Fox confirms, deadpan. Behind him Barriss giggles uncontrollably and Decker is flushed with laughter and gasping for air and the others aren’t much better. 

“Do they always do this?” one of them whispers incredibly poorly, Gree twitches, Fox eyes him with that malicious amusement that cements his place as youngest forever in Gree’s head.

“Always,” Barriss whispers back, giggling still and Gree’s heart warms for a second before his impending humiliation via gift settles in again.

“I knew the Commander wasn’t only, you know, learny, but I always thought he was sane.”

“Oh he’s sane,” Cooker reassures, “far as we can tell their entire batch is just, Like That.”

“But this is Torrent lev—” Fox’s face gives an unpleasant twitch that Gree sympathizes with.

Torrent, ugh.

“Shhhh,” the rest of Green hisses and Barriss hides her head in her hands as she laughs.

“We don’t compare them to Torrent, makes them touchy,” Draa mutters, as if he isn't half the reason Gree goes into interactions with Torrent prepared to have engineering go on another crazed building spree. He has a hunch that they feed on each other, the engineers, and it's their own special kind of crazy that Gree is half fascinated by and half resigned to.

“My point stands.” 

Gree grits his teeth, narrows his eyes at Green Company as a whole to no avail, turns a raised eyebrow to Barriss in a last attempt at gaining control of a situation he’d lost all hold over the moment Fox had walked up to him with a ‘gift from the bottom of my heart, Gree’.

His cold dead heart maybe. Gree is plotting his revenge already.

He puts the blade back with mechanical motions, feels around for the beginning of the despised plasti-cling, seriously who made it Gree has complaints for them, and begins the arduous task of unwrapping it all.

Who let Fox have this much plasti-cling.

(Over 10 hours of nonstop focus later the last of the plasti-cling has finally been ripped away and Gree stares at the new puzzle cube. Ugly and about the size of his palm. Much, much smaller than the wrapping he’d been given, nearly the size of his torso.

Gree makes a strangled sound that he will forever deny, Draa. 

The plasti-cling sits around him tauntingly, viciously victorious in all it’s piled glory.

It takes 3 days for Green Company to stop laughing about it. It does not take 3 days for them to stop sharing the holopics and vids they took, that takes much longer.

Barriss is Gree’s favourite now, everyone else is awful and everything they say is lies, and Fox has been demoted to all the way to being the baby.)

__________

Neyo tilts his head, grin bordering manic, “That, is the ugliest piece of garbage I’ve ever seen.”

Colt smiles, “It’s high class art.”

“It looks like someone took cans of paint and dumped them on the nearest patch of dirt they found.” 

“The texture adds value.”

“It’s chunks of dirt and grass.” Neyo hisses in delighted outrage. 

Colt waves a hand, voice disinterested and all ‘above all this nonsense’ like, “Very classy. Made with only the best of intentions.”

Neyo giggles, “It looks like actual manure, I hate it.”

“I got it just for you,” Colt simpers, like the little shit no one ever believes he is, “I saw it and just knew you’d connect to it.”

Neyo cackles, “This is awful, you’re awful, I’m hanging it on the wall and telling everyone you painted it.”

Colt raises an eyebrow, “No one will believe you.”

He’s right, it’s awful. Neyo pouts, “I could convince them.”

No he can’t, but that’s besides the point.

Colt hums, “mhm, I’m sure you could kih’vod.”

Neyo flicks at Colt’s wrist and wilts, “This is harassment.”

“Whatever you say Ney’ika.”

“You’re a bully.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe anyone thinks you’re responsible.”

“That is because I am.” Colt says, putting Neyo in a headlock, they both ignore the way Neyo tenses up for a fraction of a second before he relaxes, sulks, digging his elbow into Colt’s side.

It’s the first time Colt has given him such a blatantly awful gift. Neyo cackles and something shakes loose in his chest. His throat feels grossly tight and the stupid shitty canvas covered in dirt and paint sits leaning against the wall innocently.

Colt makes the same even face he uses on the Little’s when they’re being hilarious and he can’t afford to tell them or when he’s about to say something completely karking stupid because no matter how much he likes to tell everyone he’s the oldest he totally isn’t. 

Neyo slips out of the headlock, giggles through the knot in his throat and rolls his eyes.

“You’re deluding yourself and everyone around you.” he tells Colt. Colt has only ever been responsible by necessity, and never once in all of Neyo’s memories of him, has he been anything less than an absolute shithead just like the rest of them when there was no necessity.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m not arguing with you like a first-cycle.”

“Are too.”

“Neyo.”

“You’re the one who gave me the shitty painting.”

“It’s high class art you bastard.”

Neyo preens, “Thank you, still the worst thing I’ve ever seen though. Might hang it up in the front room, just to really bring it all together.”

Colt sighs, aggrieved. Neyo has no sympathy for him, really if you’re gonna play the game you gotta be in it to win it. It’s not Neyo’s fault that the trashy, awful, horrible dirt, grass, paint mixture splattered onto canvas happens to be horrifyingly tasteless. Neyo loves it. It’s gonna make Fox so mad.

(“Neyo,” Vaughn asks, staring at the wall, “why is there a, what even is that, dirt? On canvas?”

Neyo straightens up, grins wide, “Colt painted it. Out of the love in his heart and the limited talents he was decanted with.”

Vaughn raises an eyebrow, “That’s lovely and everything, why is it hanging in our front room.”

“It is horrifically awful and I love it and Fox and Ponds are coming over tomorrow.”

Vaughn laughs.

The next day, Ponds takes one look at it and giggles, “Fox, Fox come here, you’re gonna hate it.”

Fox takes one look at it and walks right back out of the house, Neyo cackles the entire time.)

[achaoticeternal]

the 1 // d. malfoy

DRACO MALFOY X MUGGLEBORN!READER folklore/evermore series masterlist

Summary: he couldn’t see past one thing, and because of that, he left. but it could have been fun, if he could have been the one. Word Count: 2.9k Warning: Blood Prejudice. Angst. Lost love. A/N: it is implied that the reader is not in slytherin but a house is not specifically mentioned.

It’s funny how the simplest things one sees in their everyday life can bring back a spiral of memories - good or bad. Green apples, paper airplanes, and the combination of silver and green were now forever tainted in your mind. It was silly that something as human and simple as blood and family had to be the downfall of what was thought to be a love that would last a lifetime. And however hard you would try to cast away and thoughts or feelings or symbols of him, memories always had a way of persistently reminding you of what was no longer yours and possibly was never yours...

Hogwarts, 4th Year

September welcomed you with the last tastes of summer warmth before winter came stalking back, only to bring the tundra with it. It was the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and a year of making new, international acquaintances with the women of Beauxbatons and the men of Durmstrang.

Your summer had been less eventful than that of your peers whom a great majority had attended the Quidditch World Cup and some even experienced the Death Eaters return. Rumors had been around about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning and which wizarding families would side with him. Of course, house and blood prejudice played a part in it all, but you managed to look past all of the controversies in the wizarding world. Over the summer, you had grown into yourself and blossomed into a beautiful witch who was very bright for her age. Others around the school had noticed as well, including the men from Durmstrang that created competition for the boys of Hogwarts.

However, with it now October, none of them caught your attention yet as you walked back to your seat in the arena with Hermione after leaving the Champions Tent to check in with Harry, whose name had unfortunately spouted for the Goblet of Fire. Today was the first challenge of three, and you had done your best to be supportive of your friend.

“Hermione, please calm down. Harry will figure it out, he always does,” You glided down the steps in front of her, looking for your fellow Gryffindors.

“But a dragon! This challenge is unbelievably foul! And that Daily Prophet woman has made this all so much-” As Hermione rambled on, she paid little attention to her feet and accidentally stepped on the back of your heel.

The misstep along with the shock had caused you to lose your balance and begin to take a tumble down the steps. As you felt gravity pull you down and prepared yourself for the inevitable pain with it, a pair of arms and a masculine frame had caught you before the disaster could occur.

“Careful, (y/l/n), we can’t have you harming that beautiful face. It would be quite a shame if you took a nasty tumble down the stairs,” he spoke, his tone a fine line between flirtatious and condescending.

“Oh, I-” The boy helped you balance yourself on the steps again, and you finally lifted your head to meet the eyes of your savior, “Draco.”

“Are you alright, (y/l/n)? Not to frightened by the dragons, are you?” His grey eyes peered back up into yours as you were slightly taller than him due to the steps of the stairs.

“No, no, of course not,” You shook your head softly and smiled to the boy, “Thank you, Draco.”

As if on cue, Hermione had invaded the private moment between you and the Malfoy boy, “Excuse us, Malfoy, but we would like to go sit with our friends before Harry enters the arena.”

His gaze broke off to glare at Hermione, “Oh yeah, you catch quite a view of him cowering away from the beast. I bet he’ll forfeit the challenge five minutes in.”

Draco’s entire demeanor had changed from a strange kindness to a smug arrogance as he sneered at the Granger girl. You didn’t want anything more to come from the encounter, so you caught Draco's attention again by lightly fixing his hat that had become lopsided, “Thank you again, Draco, but we should really be getting to our seats.”

His eyes flickered back to you and his features softened again, “Well if you feel like joining me in cheering for Krum, there will remain a seat open for you.”

With that, he allows the pair of you the breeze past him as he returns to his seat. A warmth stayed persistent on your cheeks as you made your way next to Ron, who looked quite disgruntled.

“(y/n), what was that back there?” Hermione questioned as the pair of you took your seats,

“What happened? Harry say something?”

Before you could speak, Hermione replied, “I accidentally tripped (y/n), but Draco caught her before she could tumble down the steps. Which I guess is somewhat lucky, but he flirted with her.”

“Malfoy?!? But he-,” Ron looked at you, both quizzical and worried, “Did he do anything? He jinx you?”

“Um... no,” You looked between the two of them, lost in their confusion.

“But Malfoy can’t stand muggle-borns, even if they are kind or pretty as you, (y/n),” Ron wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“That’s just it,” Both yours and Ron’s attention snapped to Hermione, “I don’t think Malfoy knows that you’re muggle-born which probably is in your favor, you saw how he looked and spoke to me.”

A canon erupted, signaling that Harry would enter the arena in only a moment. The shock of it all had left you confused, “it was probably just a one-time encounter. Let’s just watch Harry, and let that just blow over.”

With that, the three of you cheered for the Gryffindor boy and mostly forgot about your encounter with Draco. Sure, the memory of it would continue to puzzle you and keep you up at night to only be lost in thought. Yet, December rolled around quicker than anyone expected and with it, exciting news.

Along with the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the tradition of the Yule Ball would fall on the eve of the winter solstice. Many girls around the school were already gossiping about dates, dress, and dancing even though many of their male colleagues seemed to be quite opposed to the event. That was until the school announced that the Weird Sisters would be playing a set at the ball.

Of course, the main chatter was who the champions were taking to the Yule Ball because every girl wanted Cedric or Viktor to ask them and every boy was lining up to ask Fleur. Yet poor Harry couldn’t seem to catch a break-even in finding a date for the night. But Hermione would be quite the talk of the town once everyone realized that she was Viktor’s date for the ball, and he had taken a further interest in her. The pair of you chatted as you walked towards your classes together - she was going to the astronomy tower and you were going to divinations.

“I still can’t believe you snagged Viktor Krum! I mean I’m not exactly surprised with both your beauty and brains-”

“Oh stop that,” Hermione blushed and tried to quiet you down, “Who are you going with? I know that you’ve been asked at least five times today!”

As she showered you in compliments, you saw the flash of platinum blonde hair breeze past the pair of you with a few followers trickling behind. It was undoubtedly Malfoy and his crew who were also headed to Professor Trelawney’s class. 

“I haven’t said yes to anyone yet,” you admitted timidly.

“What?!? You have to be kidding me, (y/n). I know at least half the Durmstrang boys would love to be your escort for the night-”

“I-I know that, Hermione,” you flushed as the pair of you paused on the stairs, “I’m just... waiting for the right person.”

“Alright, just make sure you say yes to him. Or else I fear Harry or Ron will ask you,” You bid each other goodbye and separated to your designated classes.

As you made your way up the north tower to try and make it to class a few minutes early. Even though other students may have found her strange and overbearing, you knew that she was deep down a kind lady who wished the best for everyone she crossed paths with. Yet before you could make it up much further, you felt a light tug on the hood of your robes.

“Oh!” you jumped slightly at the shock.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, (y/n),” Michael Corner smiled as he glanced up at you, “do you have just a quick second?”

“I do, but let’s step into the window sill so that we’re out of the way,” you suggested. He stepped over onto it first, before offering his hand out to you, “Thank you.”

Few students passed by the two of you and up into the north tower, there was still 5 minutes till classes started but you still hoped to be early enough to snag a seat in the front.

“Well, how can I help you, Michael? Did you get my notes from Cho? I asked her to pass them onto you, but I can make you an extra copy-”

“No, no, she passed them along to me. Thank you for that. Potions is sadly not my area of expertise,” He smiled as a little blush dusted his cheeks, “I actually was wondering if you had a date to the Yule Ball? And if not-”

“(y/l/n)!” you heard Draco call and quickly hurry up the steps towards you, “Thank Salazar I found you before classes started.”

Draco paused next to you, giving you the kindest eyes before his gaze turned towards Michael. His expression changed into that of one mixed with jealousy and disagreement, “Corner, shouldn’t you be out in the greenhouses. Why don’t you leave (y/n) alone before someone gets the impression that a Ravenclaw is going to skip class.”

Michael glanced at you then over to Draco before disappearing down the stairs. Before he completely vanished from your sight, he looked back up at you with a very apparent look of disappointment in his eyes. Draco now took the spot where Michael was previously and held your right hand in his.

“(y/l/n), I don’t know if you realize but you are quite a wanted woman recently,” Draco smirked, his grey eyes flickering across your face as if gathering information.

“I guess so... I mean with the ball and everything, I have gotten plenty of proposals.”

“So I’ve heard, but you’ve yet to say yes to any of them, or so I’ve heard.”

“Correct again. I haven’t given my word to attend with anyone, but I did promise a dance or two to a few gentlemen,” you tried to analyze the situation as best as you could, but Draco remained unreadable to you. He also knew how to put up a good front.

“Well, (y/n), I am hoping that you’ll give me the pleasure of being my date to the Yule Ball, and hopefully, you will allow me to take you to Hogsmeade in the next few weeks,” his face had softened as he waited for a reply, his smugness and confident stance faltering under your gaze.

“Draco, are you asking me out? As your girlfriend and to the Yule Ball?”

“I figured- you know... two birds with one stone.”

“I would love to be your companion to the Yule Ball,” You beamed at him, “and your girlfriend.”

That day had long passed now. So had the Yule Ball and your entire fourth year. Now you were at the end of your fifth year and Draco no longer treated you like a prized possession, let alone sparing you a glance. 

At some point in your relationship, the sweetness of being in love ended as he began expecting behaviors and ideas from you that you never expressed before. He still held Slytherin above every other house and expected you to treat those not in Slytherin's house the same way he did. He wanted your attention and affection at every second, instead of allowing you to be with friends and he rarely ever returned affections either. But the worst behavior that Draco partook of that crossed every line for you was the blood prejudice. 

He held being part of the Sacred Twenty Eight to a higher degree than necessary in all aspects. There was a difference in being proud of your bloodline and then being prideful of your bloodline. And the Malfoy family very much fell into the pride of being Pureblooded Wizards. 

That was when a puzzle really clicked into place for you. Yes, Draco had loved you for you, but he also needed his parents to love you. He tried to pressure you into a perfect little box that he could wrap up and present to mummy and daddy. You understood why he felt the needed to continue being the perfect Malfoy, but you couldn’t understand why he thought it was okay to pull you into it. His parents would never accept you for one reason. 

“I don’t understand this, (y/l/n). we took a break just like you asked and it has done nothing. I know you still love me, so let's stop this ridiculous behavior. My parents want to meet you again. Mother loved you and I’m sure this time father will...”

“No, Draco. I don’t want to go back to the Manor,” You shook your head and took deep breaths.

“Well, that’s odd, but we can go to your estate-”

“No, can’t you listen-”

“The Three Broomsticks then, but please, I need you-”

“No, Draco, you aren’t listening to me,” tears threatened to spill as you felt your heart begin to shatter. You had never lied to Draco, but the truth about your family had never come to the surface.

As far as it concerned the Wizarding World, the (y/l/n) Family was also a part of the Sacred Twenty Eight Pureblood families. You understood the confusion and had to explain it to many of your friends and professors. But now Draco had to know the truth, even if it meant he wouldn’t be yours anymore.

“I’m not whoever you’ve painted me out to be,” your bottom lips quivered as you took a deep breath, “I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

Draco’s whole body dropped, “what do you mean?”

“Yes, I am part of the (y/l/n) bloodline, but I’m also a muggle-born.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense.”

“My grandparents had five children. My two uncles, my father, and my two aunts. All of them great wizards, except for my father who had no magical abilities - the only one in our family. He married my mother, who is a muggle. However, I am a witch.” you confessed it all, praying that he would understand. Maybe he would love you enough to glance over this fatal flaw.

“A squib? Your father is a squib and you never bothered to mention it!”

“It wasn’t that important I thought, because I’m still a member of a Pureblood family! I thought that you would see over it because it’s such a small hiccup.”

“I- no, I can’t just look over it. You know I can’t and you know I won’t,” Draco glared, looking at you with the same disdain that his father had when speaking of muggles.

“Draco, please. We can lie and just paint over this. I’ll even get my family to lie, but I don’t want to lose you. I’ve never felt like this with anyone, ever in my life,” A few stray tears managed to escape your defense as you begged him.

“(y/n), we both know who my parents, who my family, who we are associated with. I can’t risk it and neither can you.”

“I love you, Draco. And everyone knows it.”

“I love you too. And hopefully, you will get it through your head while I can’t love you anymore.”

During your sixth and seventh years, you never spoke to Draco, let alone offered a glance in his general direction. He shattered your heart after you had thought you had found your person, your soulmate if you will. The only thing the shocked you was that he never mentioned or let lose the dirtiest secret of your family. It wouldn’t have changed much but still have hurt you enough in many social circles.

Even after the Battle of Hogwarts had passed, you still hadn’t made up with Draco and even Harry Potter, his schoolyard nemesis, ended up coming to terms. All your friends were engaged, married, or dating. You had also tried, but nothing ever came of anything you attempted to pursue. The spark you once had with who you thought was the love of your life never reappeared with anyone else.

However, you heard from the newlywed Potter’s that Draco had married - an arranged marriage - but married nonetheless. To Astoria Greengrass who was two years your younger back in school. Both purebloods, caring for their family lineage. The news had come to you at the end of another failed relationship and felt like a ton of bricks on your chest.

No, the Malfoy prejudice was in no way your fault. You had done everything you could to salvage the relationships and love him unconditionally. But sometimes you wonder...

if one thing had been different, would everything be different?

[yeojaa]

NOT YOUR FAIRYTALE - ft. myg

What do you do when you've called your wedding off but forgot to cancel your cake tastings? Why, you ask your brother's grouchy best friend, of course.

pairing.  min yoongi.  sort of.

genre + rating.  fluff-adjacent.  general.

warning / tags.  mentions of infidelity, cake tasting, cake tasting isn’t a euphemism, fluff and hurt/comfort, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, friendship, friendship/love, childhood friends.

reading.   n/a.  a stand-alone three part one-shot.

chapter i.

"You want me to what?"

The way he's looking at you makes you want to sink six feet under ground and bury yourself among the roots and bugs.  There's so much judgment in the feline turn of his stare, the depths of his irises and the pupils that disappear among the hue.  Still, his voice remains decidedly bored.  Apathetic, even.

If you were anyone else - hell, if he were anyone else - you think you might've slunk off, proverbial tail tucked between your legs.  But you aren't and he isn't, so you repeat yourself, louder this time.

"I want you to come to the cake tasting with me."  You're proud of yourself for how the words don't waver, clipping off your tongue and teeth in short bursts.  You're even more proud of how you meet his intimidating gaze, chin jutted out in something like defiance but admittedly softer, a little more vulnerable.

His expression is inscrutable, a palette of greys that only further the uncertainty that sinks like a stone in your chest.  Every second that passes feels like an eon and you think you might crumble into dust by the time his lips move, though sound is slow to come.

It seems even he's having second thoughts.

"So, you want me to pretend to be your fiancé."  A pause, incredulity written into every syllable.  "For cake."

When he puts it like that, it feels like nails on a chalkboard or cardboard against cardboard.  It raises the little hairs on the back of your neck and has you gritting your teeth, lids sliding over eyes in what can only be called distress.  It fits onto your face - curving lips and tensing your jaw all at once.  You remind yourself to breathe around the discomfort that lodges into your airway and within your skull.  

Why had you thought this was a good idea?  Why couldn't you have asked someone else?

Anyone but Min Yoongi.

"Everyone else is busy,"  you retort, though it's not quite as hard as you mean it to be.  It falls like a stone in the ocean - inconsequential.  "If you don't want to, just say so.  I'll go on my own."  

Your own, because you'd called off your engagement months ago and had forgotten to cancel this.  Or rather, you'd put it off.  You'd put a lot of stuff off.  It kind of came with discovering your boyfriend - your knight in shining armour soon-to-be husband - was a philanderer.  Still, you'd felt a little silly when you'd gotten the two-week reminder text (and email, because oh, you'd been excited!).  

When you'd approached your best friend about it, she'd reacted in her patented Lee Sora way.  A derisive snort - for that piece of shit ex of yours - and then a sweeter cloying laugh, insisting you go.  After all, you'd booked things on his dime.  'Better to eat your cake, even if you can't have it!'  were her words.  

Honestly, you'd forgotten about it again - purposely pushed it to the furthest recesses of your mind - until you'd gotten the call the day before.  Imagine your surprise when the assistant was chirping all over the phone line, completely oblivious to your stunned silence.

Why did you have to have the memory of something with really bad memory?  Your brother wasn't like this.

So here you were, asking his best friend to take some sort of pity on you.  It felt worse than tripping during your university graduation.  (Because yes, you had done that, nearly face planting in front of hundreds of your peers.  Clumsiness ran in the Kim family.)  You hated it with every fibre of your being.  Not because you had too much pride - god no - but because you'd had to ask him.  Yoongi.  

On a good day, he was gracious, if not distantly quiet.  On a bad day, he could cut you down with just one look.

Frankly, you couldn't tell what kind of day this was.  

"You know I'm not making you go alone."  The man in question sounds exasperated, though it's barely hidden, an undercurrent of frustration that peeks around the edges of consonants.  His expression betrays nothing as he turns back to face the array of monitors, nimble fingers already resuming their previous actions.  You feel a pang of guilt - you know how much he hates being bothered when he's working.  Namjoon's drilled it into your head since you were old enough to barge in without asking and though they'd taken a lunch break, it still feels a little clandestine.

You ignore the hope that sparks to life in your chest and the way your fingers curl around the door frame.  Or, at least, you try to ignore it.  You're grateful that his back is to you when you speak.  "Is that a yes?"

"Yes."  For a moment, you think he might turn by the way his shoulders shift, hands stilling.  But then he thinks better of it and slides his headphones over his mop of carefully styled smoke - a clear indication the conversation is over.

Before his right ear is fully covered, you're rushing to speak.  "It's at 3:30!  I'll come grab you before we have to leave!"  And then you're gone.

You'd thought it would be easier with someone else.  Appearances and all that.  

But as you're walking up to the pretty storefront - all unassuming whites to showcase the brilliant confections in the window - you somehow feel even more nervous.  What if they knew?  What if they could tell you two were polar opposites and you'd come to swindle them out of their painstakingly crafted cakes?  Would they tell you to get out?  Would they not say anything, even if they knew?

Scenarios play in your mind like the climax of a Bond film and you don't even realize you're hovering five feet away until his voice cuts through your thoughts - a hot knife through butter.

"What're you waiting for?"  There's that irritation again.  You try not to take it personally.  This was just who Yoongi was - had always been.  He was someone who didn’t suffer fools gladly, no matter how they presented themselves.  You know it isn’t directed at you necessarily, but just at the strange situation he now found himself in.  You tell yourself that over and over as you find your words, plastering what you hope to be a genuine smile on your face.

By the way he looks at you, lips curled around disbelief, you know it's a poor effort.  You were bad at hiding your emotions.  It was like Namjoon had stolen all the emotional maturity, leaving you with wide-open eyes and a face like a billboard.

"What if they know?"  You say it in a voice barely above a whisper, as if they might hear you through the intimidating glass door.

"Know what?"  A brow quirks, disappearing into his fringe.

"That we aren't together!"  The words explode out of you, a firecracker set off too close to curious hands.  Your mouth draws into a thin line of apology and you're twisting a section of hair around your index finger.  It's a nervous habit and he catches it immediately.  

His expression softens, just barely, and he sighs, breath blown through his nose.  "It'll be fine."  The confidence he reassures you with is surprising but somehow, it calms you.  Maybe it's the two decades of friendship rearing its pretty, often neglected head.  Whatever it is, you cling to it like a security blanket, eyes the size of dinner plates as you follow the hand that suddenly rises and inches toward you. 

"What're you doing?"  You speak before you can help it, admiring the softness of his skin and the long fingers built from years of piano.

Rather than speak, he grips your own.  It's loose but your knuckles knock together, palms flat and moulded into one.  "You want it to be believable, don't you?"  Despite the bemused inflection, you appreciate his gesture.  It means a lot to you.  

You squeeze his hand, nodding once.  "Thanks, Yoongi."  It's soft and shy, filled with all the things you don't say.  He reads between the lines easily, years of platonic intimacy guiding him into what could almost be described as a smile but falls just short of revealing his gums.  Still, it's as good as having him shout his understanding from the rooftops so you take it with grace, dutifully following after him when he pries open the door.

The smell is intoxicating.  If your life were a cartoon movie, you're sure you'd be following the smell and floating into the kitchen with hearts in your eyes.

"You must be the soon-to-be Rims!"  

She's a pretty young thing with big doll eyes and a sweetly upturned nose.  You recognize her voice immediately as the girl that had confirmed your appointment.  She oozes honey and kindness and you can't help but smile;  she's sweet as apple pie.  How fitting.

So swept up in her sunny greeting, you belatedly notice the way your not-fiancé stiffens at your side, his interlocked fingers tightening imperceptibly.  There's a tick in his jaw, tension running the length of his bones and steeling around the column of his neck.  For a second, you're tempted to reach out with your free hand, smooth whatever consternation has him grimacing, but in the next moment, he's a blank slate.  His chin dips, nods in affirmation because you've been too caught up in him to answer the poor girl.

"That's us."  He hides it well, but you can still see the flicker of annoyance just beyond the flat of his barely realized smile.  It's the same ebb and flow that you've become familiar with over the years.  (Especially since, during a particularly annoying time during your teens, you'd been the reason for it.)

"So nice to meet you finally.  I'm Siyeon."  It seems the assistant is completely oblivious to whatever displeasure lies beneath the surface of Yoongi’s carefully crafted facade, her beaming smile never faltering.  You can even hear it in her voice when she turns and begins leading you past the front pastry case and toward the open space further back.  "Come this way!  We have everything set up." 

You squeeze his hand again when the whites of his eyes grow prominent by the way they roll in their sockets.  "Be nice,"  you chastise quietly, closing the distance just enough to keep the conversation between the two of you.

"I am nice."  When your gaze meets, you're mirroring each other's expression.  It makes you laugh;  he simply shakes his head.

"You two are so sweet,"  comes Siyeon's meant-to-be kind observation.  She's watching you two closely from the head of the long table where she waits.  There are slices of cake laid across the top, three pieces in total.  Place cards sit neatly behind each plate, another three placed off to the side.  There are two forks, two pens, and a bare white notepad.  "Please, take a seat.  Would you like some champagne?"

"Please!"  You've answered before your companion has had a chance to and he levels you with a quirked brow and nothing else.  You note the way Siyeon disappears with your answer, leaving you to stick your tongue out at him.  "What?"

"Take it easy, party animal,"  he drawls, nonchalant as ever as he turns his attention to the offerings laid before him.  

You know he's just teasing, so you say nothing, instead opting to do the same.  Every slice is perfectly cut - a generous portion for two people - and so lovingly crafted that you almost feel bad thinking you'll never get to try it again.  

"Here you go." 

Two champagne flutes are presented, ice bucket with the orange label bottle set aside.  You take a tentative sip, enjoying the way the liquid bursts across your tongue.  You'd always been more of a beer girl, but this is nice.  It feels a little like a treat to yourself - for getting through everything that's brought you here.

"So, we're pretty hands-off here."  Siyeon is speaking again, the words rolling off her tongue like she's given this spiel a hundred times.  You're sure she has.  She's so confident, rattling off the process with practiced ease.  You focus intently, grateful for the way Yoongi even leans forward - the picture of an attentive partner.  "We've prepared six cakes for you.  You'll taste them in groups of three, so your palate isn't overwhelmed.  We leave you alone during this portion so you can discuss without any pressure or input and you can make notes on what you do and don't like.  Once you're done all of the samples, you'll meet with one of our pâtissiers and discuss."  There's a pause, then realization.  “You also mentioned on the phone you wanted us to include a red velvet option, so that’s on the far right.”  A hand gesticulates, though it’s impossible to miss.  The cake is vivid maroon and off-white – a picture perfect slice presented on the minimalistic ceramic. 

You don’t miss the way Yoongi’s brow knits together beneath his neatly styled crown of silk or the stare he levels you with.  He doesn’t betray emotion easily, but you can feel it from your periphery, and it licks hot shame across your cheeks.  You hated red velvet – called it bullshitter’s chocolate – but your stupid awful ex-fiancé had loved it, claiming it to be one of his favourite things in the world.

More than even you, you find yourself thinking bitterly before you can help it.

“Thanks.”  The word is short and dismissive.  Very clearly the complete opposite of how it should be but if Siyeon notices, she doesn’t comment on it.  You have to applaud her self-restraint.  Instead, she offers another winning smile, and retreats back a step.

“I’ll just be at the front, if you need anything.”

A part of you wants to ask to her to stay – save you from the scathing words you know are about to fire off of your pretend-partner’s tongue.  You settle for returning her smile and watching as she departs, gaze trained diligently on her back as if that might protect you from the verbal barrage you know is coming.

“You hate red velvet.”  It’s a statement that has you cringing because you can hear all of the implications behind it.  The words he doesn’t speak but clearly thinks linger in the air between you, falling like rain drops that sink into your bones.

You don’t immediately answer, taking your time in turning your fork over in your fingers.  You know this silent treatment won’t work.  Yoongi’s the master of silence – and of death glares – but you push onwards, gliding tines into the nearest cake slice.  It doesn’t crumble or break, held together by pure craftsmanship and quality ingredients.  The pretty not-quite-purple, not-quite-red winks up at you. 

Honey wine Moscato with triple berry mousse and seasonal berry compote. 

A definite yes in your books.  Or would be, if you were actually getting married.  You take another bite, then another.

“Why the hell would you have asked for a red velvet wedding cake if you hate it?”  He’s not about to let it go, though he follows suit once the question has left his lips.  He’s also not about to let you leave him with crumbs when he was the one who’d been forced into coming here.

The way his jaw relaxes has you smiling just a little, an expectant gleam in the brown of your irises.

“Tasty, right?” 

“Yeah, good.”  But now that you’ve spoken – confirmed that you’re not mute, despite how quiet you’ve been since he’d poised his initial question – he repeats himself.  “Seriously, why ask for a cake you hate?”

You know you have no reason to hold the words so tightly to your chest but you do nonetheless, not quite sure how to speak them without your voice cracking.  “Red velvet was his favourite.”  There.  You’d thought the admission would be a weight lifted but it feels somehow worse.  Like there’s shame draped across the concession, a heavy brocade that lingers in your throat once the words have left.

“You were going to have a wedding cake you’d hate?  Because of him?” 

It’s exactly what you’d been afraid of.  The judgment that rolls off him in waves and crashes against you like a shore at hightide.  Your eyes remain steadfastly trained on the next slice – almond cake soaked in Grand Marnier with honey-cream and Mariska cherries.  Crimson fruit is speared on an individual tine and popped into your mouth as you continue your vow of silence.

You think the quiet is enough of an answer but when he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, you finally look up.  Whatever words of defence had been forming on your tongue die off, dragged into an abyss that opens up beneath your feet – a surprise, because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.

It’s equal parts frustration and something else but because it’s so new, you can’t quite place it in your catalog of memories.

He must realize, immediately rearranging his features into their usual stoic mask.  Just the tilt of his mouth betrays him, corners turned down ever so slightly.  It’s enough to know that he’s holding back, which is something he never does.  Ever.

“Spit it out, Yoongi.”  You don’t look at him, too afraid that both his words and stare will completely eviscerate you now that he has the go ahead.  You fork a proper mouthful of cake past your lips, humming contentedly as the flavours spill over your tongue.  You hadn’t expected it to taste like a creamsicle – okay, a very adult creamsicle – but it’s welcome, nonetheless. 

Fork of his own spears a sizeable bite and you watch as the slice disappears before your eyes, under both of your measured ministrations.   The red velvet plate sits untouched.  You know Yoongi doesn’t mind it – enjoys it, in fact – but you think he must be refraining for your sake.

Solidarity in crisis, probably.

“You know you’re better off without him.” 

Of course you know that.  He’d cheated on you – in your home and more than once!  You knew, just as you knew how to ride a bike or how to swim, that ending things was the best thing you’d ever done.  Sure, it’d hurt like hell and sure, you’d had to move in with your brother until you found something else – you hadn’t yet – but it was all for the best.

So why can’t you say those three simple words?  Why, instead of your usual barking hyena laugh meeting his words, was there nothing?

“How are the cakes?”  Siyeon has materialized at your side as if summoned.  The still intact slice draws her attention immediately, concern settling alongside the winning customer service that oozes out of her pores and fixes itself into her permanent smile.  “Did you not like the red velvet?”

Before you have a chance to speak, Yoongi’s doing so for the both of you.

“She hates red velvet.  She only asked for it for me.”  There’s a shrug disrupting the ridge of his shoulders, shifting the soft cotton plaid that hugs his lithe frame.  “Could you bring out the rest?”  His tone is friendly, gentle even.  It's at complete odds with the line of his mouth, terse and teetering dangerously on irate.  Still, he's not unkind when his gaze meets Siyeon's and she simply nods, gathering up the plates and taking the disregarded slice in stride.

Silence stretches between the two of you but it isn't uncomfortable.  It's the same quiet that's followed you throughout your lives, carried gracefully by years of close quarters.

"Which do you like best?"  He breaks it first, with a gentle hand like a delicate sculptor. 

"Is both an acceptable answer?"  

There's a rueful tilt to your smile.  It feels very you to him, so he knows it's okay to rib you, teasing colouring every syllable.  "Two cakes, huh?  Pretty greedy."  

Whatever you're about to say falls off your tongue yet again, forgotten on the tip with the return of Siyeon. 

With the same sunny smile she's adopted the entire visit, she sets the next three selections carefully before you.  Just as before, they're beautifully crafted and effortlessly chic.  You spy what looks like carrot cake - from the telltale chunks of golden raisins and fluffy whipped frosting - but you're not sure which the rest are.  

"Their cards are right there,"  Siyeon supplies helpfully, noting your curiosity.  You smile, grateful as she departs with another grin and a reminder.  "Don't forget to take notes!"

Vanilla cake soaked in mandarin syrup and kumquat liqueur with mandarin vinegar from Jeju Island and mandarin curd. 

Dark chocolate mud cake soaked in espresso with white chocolate and black truffle ganache.

You opt to start with what appears to the airiest of the three, gliding your fork through the pretty mosaic of orange and cream.

“You deserve someone who’d let you have any cake you want.”  It’s soft - barely above a whisper - but kicks up gravel in its wake, drawing your attention with the grit that tracks over syllables.

You study him for a moment, masking curiosity as consideration of flavours as citrus bursts across your tongue.

“You mean someone like you?”  What you’d thought to be deadpan comes across coaxing, like honey swathed in broad strokes.  You’d only meant to tease - you don’t mean anything by it (or so you tell yourself).  Because you’re definitely not there yet, and certainly not with him.

But when he looks at you with that inscrutable expression, you swear you’d give up any three magic wishes to read his mind.

“No, not like me.”

notes.  based off of this prompt.

this will be two parts because i can’t write a short one-shot to my satisfaction.  :l  thank you for reading, though!

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Blind Date

 

Note: just an idea I had, hope you like it. some soft fluffiness, but also smut bc I’m still h word for Jake, especially after how he looked tonight on tv.

Pairing: Jake Tapper x reader

 Warnings: smut, NSFW

 

(sorry for eventual typos, I wrote this in a bit of a frenzy)

enjoy

 

“You look horrible. “Abby stated matter-of-factly as she sat down in the restaurant chair across from you.

 “I missed you too, great to see you, thanks. “you responded, not even bothering to argue with her.

Abby was your best friend since college, if she said you looked horrible it was either a joke or a fact. Considering the way she was looking at you, probably the latter.

“Hard week at work?”

 You let out a tired huff.

“You have no idea. We got this new client who booked us for a nation-wide tv ad, and they’re so incredibly demanding. I’ve been working overtime for three weeks straight, it’s a miracle they didn’t call me in today.”

Your monthly Saturday brunch with Abby was sacred, work be damned.

Your friend was giving you a worried look across the table. “Well, I’m glad they didn’t, you deserve a day off.”

 “Enough of my sad life, how is it going over at Fake News?” you joked.

 “Amazing actually. You won’t believe it, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re thinking about offering me John’s Sunday spot on Inside Politics. Can you imagine, my own hour, as an actual anchor. It’s nothing official yet, but I’m so excited.”

 “Oh my god, Abby, that’s awesome. I’m so proud of you. We should celebrate.” you exclaimed, beckoning a waiter to order two glasses of champagne.

 Abby gave you a warm smile.
“Thank you, babe. But let me be honest, I’m worried about you. You look exhausted, even your voice sounds tired. When was the last time you did something actually relaxing?”

 “I’ve watched a movie, like, a week ago. And I do yoga, at least sometimes.” You tried to argue, not entirely sure if you wanted to convince Abby or yourself.

 A smirk settled over your friend’s face, and she looked at you like she just had the most brilliant idea ever. You did not like that look at all, it usually meant trouble.

 “Well todays your lucky day, because I know just what you need to de-stress a bit.”

 You just raised an eyebrow at her. 
“Care to elaborate, genius?”

 “You, my friend, need to get laid.”

You snorted. “Fun times, Abbs, you almost got me,”


“I’m serious, Y/N, when was the last time you had sex?”

“Okay, it’s been a while, but I’m fine. I don’t need a man to interfere with the little free time I have. And it’s not like the streets are full of men chasing me. I don’t have time to date, and, like I said, I’m totally fine with the way things are at the moment.” You tried your very best not to sound defensive. 

The expression on Abby’s face told you everything you needed to know. She didn’t buy a single word coming out of your mouth.
“Y/N, trust me when I tell you, blowing off a little steam would do wonders for your stress level. And maybe you’d even meet someone nice. And, lucky for you, I know just the guy. He’s someone I work with, and I think you’d get along perfectly.”

 “You’re not actually suggesting setting me up on a blind date.” You couldn’t believe your friend. The last thing you needed was an evening full of awkward small talk with some boring, sleek CNN guy.

 “Come on, Y/N, take a leap of faith. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

+++

 (One week later)

 “I can’t believe I actually agreed.” You murmured to yourself as you rummaged through your closet, looking for an outfit to wear on that damned date Abby bullied you into.

You thought about the peaceful evening you could have had, curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine, maybe getting some work done.

But it was too late to back down now.

 “Let’s just get this over with” you told yourself, applying some lipstick as if it was war paint. “Let’s hope that the guy is at least good-looking.”

 The restaurant Abby sent you to was nice enough, a small and intimate place, perfect for a date. You couldn’t wait to have your first glass of wine, because you could feel your nervousness increasing with each passing minute.

You entered the restaurant, looking for the third table on the window side that Abby had described to you…and directly turned around, practically fleeing through the door again as soon as you set eyes on the man sitting there.

 Back outside, you took your phone out of your bag and furiously dialed Abby’s number. She picked up right away, but you were shouting at her before she could even say a word.

“You better tell me that you did not set me up with Jake fucking Tapper.”

Was she out of her mind? This was the Jake Tapper, the face of CNN, hell, the face of the media in this country. What the fuck were you supposed to talk to him about.

But your friend just chuckled at you through the phone.
“When you saw him on TV some months ago, you said he was your type. Plus, he’s intelligent, funny, and single. Perfect for you. And now stop making a fool out of yourself and go in there. You got this, girl. Love you, bye.”
And with that, she hung up.

 You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves. You could not just leave now, and stand up Mr. Breaking News himself. So you pocketed your phone again, squared your shoulders and went back into the restaurant.

You made your way over to the table, coming to a stop in front of it. The man sitting there looked up to you and smiled. And wow, what a beautiful smile it was, sincere, warm and inviting, taking over his entire face.

“Hi.” You said, trying to sound confident.

“I’m Y/N, Abby’s friend.”

 

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Jake. I’m working with Abby, but she probably already told you that much.”

“She did, but I’ll be honest, I know you, of course. Big fan of your show.”

God, why did you just say that. He was probably going to think you were some kind of crazy fangirl now.

 But he just continued to smile his open, friendly smile at you.
“Always happy to hear that.” He chuckled, pointing to the opposite chair. “Do you want to sit down?”

 “Yes, of course, sorry.” You said, feeling silly because you totally forgot that you were still standing. You quickly sat down and tried your best to appear calm and collected, even if your insides were in turmoil.

 “Would you care for some wine? They have a pretty impressive list, I could pick one for us if you don’t mind.” Jake asked.

 “Wine sounds fantastic. I love it, but I’m not really an expert, so go ahead.”

 Jake took some reading glasses out of the pocket of his suit jacket and put them on his nose. 
While he was studying the wine list, you took your time to study him instead. He appeared to be in his late forties, so there was an age difference of probably 15 to 20 years. You didn’t mind that at all, older men had always been more your type.

He had a really handsome face, kind eyes that looked even better when he had those glasses on, and you loved his salt-and-pepper hair. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt with a dark grey suit jacket. You caught your mind wandering to how he might look underneath his clothes and gave yourself a mental slap on the wrist. This was your first date, no need to get ahead of yourself.

“Everything alright over there?”

 Shit, he had caught you staring.

 “Yes, sorry, I zoned off for a moment. I had a stressful week at work.”

“Oh, yes, Abby told me you’re working in advertising. Any interesting projects at the moment?”

You went on and chatted about work a bit. You were fascinated by what he was doing, and taken aback by the confident, yet humble way he was talking about it. This was absolutely not the behavior you were expecting from the leading anchorman of the nations most renowned network. He wasn’t arrogant or self-centered at all and you were definitely charmed.

The wine Jake ordered arrived with your starters, and soon after you had your first few sips you felt some of the initial nervousness fading away.

Soon, the conversation was flowing freely, and you discovered that Abby was right, you really did get along perfectly. Jake was incredibly funny in a dry and witty way and his sarcastic remarks made you laugh more than once. You also discovered your shared interest in graphic novels and argued a while about weather DC or Marvel was the superior comic universe.

Jake showed you one of his own cartoons on his phone, and with each moment you found yourself more drawn to the man in front of you.
At some point his hand started to lightly brush against yours on the table, and each touch sent a warm feeling through your chest.

You talked some more over dessert, had some more wine and overall, a really good time.

The alcohol gave you a pleasant, fuzzy feeling, and the desire to just get up and crawl on Jakes lap grew with each look he gave you.

 “Excuse me, Ma’am, Sir, were closing up now.” A passing waiter told you and put the check on the table.

 “Let me take care of that, please.” Jake said, taking out his wallet. You just thanked him and enjoyed the view of him putting on his glasses again to read the check.

 He really was a perfect gentleman, you thought to yourself, as he got up to hold your coat and then the door for you on your way out.


“I really had a wonderful evening.” you said softly, as the both of you were standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Jake shot you another one of his brilliant smiles, and you could feel your heart beating faster.
“Me too.” He replied. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, and I’d like to see you again.”

Now your heart was almost jumping out of your chest, and you could feel your own smile taking over your face.
“I’d love that.”

 Jake took one step closer, now standing so close you could almost feel the warmth radiating off his body. One of his hands came up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb slowly stroking over your jaw. His touch sent goosebumps all over your skin, and you slightly parted your lips, looking him directly in the eyes. They were warm, and dark, and you felt like you could get lost in them. And then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your mouth.

It felt incredible, a kind of warmth that was totally unrelated to the wine spreading through your body, your skin prickling where his hand was still on your face.

You put your hands on his arms and kissed him back, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips against yours. He still tasted slightly like red wine, and you wanted nothing more than to explore the rest of his body with your mouth just as thoroughly.

 First date, you reminded yourself, and broke free from the kiss before your lust-clouded brain could make you do something you might regret later. You glanced up at Jake, who looked at you with an unreadable expression. Then, after what felt like forever, he finally spoke.

“Could I maybe have your number?”

 

“Of course.” You said, with maybe a bit much enthusiasm, but Jake didn’t seem to mind. You quickly typed your number into his phone, and just as you were finished, the cab you had called earlier was arriving.

Jake held the door open for you, and shot you one last, beautiful smile. “Good night, Y/N, get home safe.”

“Thank you for the wonderful evening, Jake. Good night.”

 You closed the door and the taxi drove off. You already missed his face as soon as he was out of sight, and you turned around to watch his receding figure through the rear window of the taxi.

Great, you were already down bad after one date. The man really got to you, and you desperately hoped that you would hear from him soon.

 As soon as you were home, you really felt the effects of the wine, so you quickly went to bed to get some sleep. Just before you were nodding off, you sent Abby a quick message.

 

You were right, he is perfect. THANKS xxxx

 

When Abby answered five minutes later, you were already asleep.

 Told you so ;) xxxx

+++

 When you woke up the next morning, there was a new message from an unknown number on your phone. Your heart made a flip in your chest, and you opened it as fast as you could.

 

Hi, this is Jake. It’s probably way too soon to text you, but I just wanted to let you know, again, what a great time I had yesterday. If you’d be up to it, I’d really like to see you again soon. Let me know if that would be alright with you. And have a nice Saturday :)

 

He had already texted you. That meant he didn’t think that you were crazy, or awkward, and that he wasn’t just acting nice, he genuinely wanted to see you again. You were filled with a giddy sort of happiness, and decided to answer him right away, there was no need to play any games here. Leap of faith, just like Abby said.

 

Good Morning Jake, I really enjoyed yesterday as well. I’d love to spend some more time together; would tomorrow evening be too spontaneous? I could make dinner, to return the favor since you paid yesterday ;) my place at eight?

 

As soon as you hit the send button you started getting anxious again. What if tomorrow was too soon? What if he thought you were being too eager?

“Stop it, Y/N!” you said out loud to interrupt your mental spiral. You wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself for this man, even if he was handsome, and intelligent, and funny. No way.

 But as you were standing in the kitchen five minutes later and heard your phone chiming from the other room, you were there in the matter of seconds to read the new message.

 

Tomorrow sounds perfect, just text me the address. I’ll bring the wine. xx Jake

 

You clutched your phone to your chest, the biggest, goofy smile on your face.

 You spent the remaining day extensively cleaning your flat, stressing out, going grocery shopping and stressing out some more. You face-timed Abby and bullied her into helping you pick out an outfit, since she technically was the one who got you into this mess in the first place.

Jake was occupying your mind whatever you did, and when you finally got into your bed that night, all you could think about was how his lips had felt against yours. Those thoughts sent a hot, burning feeling down between your legs and when you finally touched your pussy, you were already so wet and aroused that it only took you minutes until you reached your peak, Jakes name falling from your lips.

+++

To say you were a nervous wreck the next day would be an understatement. When you woke up, you decided to watch some TV to get yourself a bit of distraction. An ad was currently playing, and so you decided to check your mails first.

 

“Good Morning from Washington, where the State of our Union is in turmoil over the latest…”

 

Your head snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice coming from your TV, the voice that occupied your mind ever since your blind date on Friday. You had totally forgotten that Sunday morning meant Jake Tapper time on CNN, because usually you were either asleep or at work at 9 am. But now you took your time to really appreciate the man on your TV.

He looked way more serious than the Jake you got to know, no smile, just a stern expression and a dark suit and tie. Which didn’t mean that he wasn’t looking totally hot, and his intelligent and sharp remarks did nothing to calm your fluttering heart or the heat in your lower abdomen. You definitely wanted him, bad.


This is getting ridiculous, you thought to yourself, and turned the TV off to take a very long shower.

Afterwards, you spent the whole day pacing around your flat and annoying Abby with numerous text messages and another two face time calls. She assured you multiple times that everything would be just fine and by the time it was 7:45 p.m. the food was in the oven and you sat on your couch, waiting for the doorbell to ring.

When it finally did, you all but ran to the door only to stop and force yourself to take a couple of calming breaths before opening it. Jake stood outside, a bottle of red wine in his hand. He looked amazing with his white dress shirt and dark grey slacks, but again it was his smile that got your attention, he looked just as happy to see you as you were feeling.

Out of a sudden impulse, you surged forward and threw your arms around the man, hugging him and burying your head in his chest. He seemed surprised, but still put his free arm around you, embracing you.

“Hi.” You whispered, suddenly shy, but as you looked up to meet Jakes eyes you could see nothing but warmth in them. “Hi.” He replied, pressing a kiss to your hair. “It’s good to see you.”

 You slowly let go of him so he could actually enter your apartment. He followed you inside and you fetched some glasses for the wine. You talked about everything and anything over dinner, family, football, the book Jake was working on. You listened closely, and so did he as you told him about your passion for art and music. He even asked you to put some of your favorite records on as you moved over to the couch after dinner.

You were still talking animatedly but having Jake in closer physical proximity made it increasingly hard to focus on what he was saying.

Instead, your eyes and mind wandered to his hands. Without thinking, you reached out and put one of your hands into his, He stopped speaking, and looked at you. You could see the kind look in his eyes being replaced by something darker, more passionate.

 He spoke again, voice lower this time. “I’ve been thinking about you and our kiss without a break since yesterday. And just as long I’ve wanted to kiss you again, touch you again.”

He reached out, cupped your jaw with one of his hands and slowly ran his thumb over your bottom lip. It took every willpower you had not to suck his thumb into your mouth. This man had you hot and aching for him with just a single touch and a couple of words.

“Is that something you want me to do, Y/L?” his voice was only a low rumble now.

 

“Oh my god yes. Yes please.” You whispered, not really trusting your own voice to come out steady enough. 
The hand on your face slid to the back of your head and you uttered a surprised gasp as Jake just grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled you close, until your faces were only inches apart.

“You are beautiful.” He said, looking you deep in the eyes.

And then he kissed you again. And as soon as his mouth connected with yours, you realized just how much you had missed the feeling of his lips, the warmth of his body. But that was where the resemblance to the kiss you shared last night ended. Because this one was more.

More passion, more lust. Jake softly bit your bottom lip and used your surprised gasp as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. The kiss deepened and you could feel small sparks of arousal all over your body with every touch of tongue and every time he lightly tugged on the hair in the nape of your neck.

Your hands found their way around Jakes shoulders, roaming up and down his back. You were really glad he was not wearing his full State Of The Union Outfit, even if it had looked extremely hot, because as soon as you could feel the solid muscle through his thin dress shirt, you knew that those clothes had to come off at some point.

You lightly tugged on the hem of his shirt to pull it out of his pants and spread your hands over the warm skin underneath. Jake broke the kiss as soon as he could feel what you did, just to tilt back your head and kiss your exposed neck.

You couldn’t stifle a moan as he lightly sucked on your pulse point.

The feeling of his mouth on your skin made heat coil between your legs, and you tried to shift even closer to him, until you were almost sitting on his lap.

Jake continued to kiss your neck, while his other hand crept under your shirt to palm your breast through your bra. He lightly squeezed it and you moaned again, you nails raking softly over his back, making him groan against your skin.

“You like that?” he asked, and pinched one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, and you could feel your panties getting soaked with arousal.

You decided that it was time to get rid of some clothing and started to quickly unbutton Jakes dress shirt, revealing more and more skin with each button undone. As soon as you were finished, he pulled the shirt of his shoulders and the view of his body made your mouth water. You ran your hands over his muscled chest, and you could see the way his eyes darkened again.

“I can’t wait to touch you everywhere.” He said in a husky voice and pulled your shirt over your head in a swift motion, and instantly his lips were on yours again, his hands roaming over your back, unclasping your bra. When your nipples came in contact with the skin of his chest, you couldn’t contain yourself anymore.

“Jake, please. Touch me, kiss me, anything. I need to feel you.” You pleaded, your voice slightly breathless.

 

“Take the rest of your clothes off, now.” Jake said, his commanding tone sending another surge of wetness between your legs.

 You got up from the sofa and stood in front of Jake. Slowly, you opened the zipper of your jeans and pulled them down, leaving you only in your black lace panties.

Jake was watching you, his intense stare burning on your skin.

“Everything. Off.” He said, never breaking eye contact.

Having the undivided attention of this man was so hot, you almost got lightheaded.

You slowly dragged your underwear down your legs, and as you were looking up again, you saw that Jake was palming the bulge that had begun to form in his pants. You wanted to touch him so bad.

“You are gorgeous. Amazing. Beautiful. Stunning.” Jake said, taking in the sight of your naked body. His voice was strained, this was clearly affecting him.

A light flush was beginning to form on your skin, you weren’t sure if it was because of arousal or embarrassment, but you definitely knew that you needed Jake to get his hands on your body, now.

You made your way over to him again and leaned down to open the fly of his trousers. His briefs were already tented by his erection, and you palmed him through his underwear, making him groan.

“Those need to come off.” You whispered, smiling at Jake, who just nodded and lifted his pelvis so you could pull down his trousers along with his underwear.

Finally, he was naked in front of you. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you down on the sofa, lying on top of you. The feeling of his warm skin against yours was thrilling, you tried to get your hands on every part of his body you could reach, stroking his back, pulling his hair. Finally, you wrapped your hand around the base of his hard cock, giving it some light strokes.

“You feel so good, Y/N, I’ve been thinking about doing this since I first laid my eyes on you. I’ve been in a state since we kissed, and now” he whispered against your neck „I can’t wait to finally have that sweet pussy of yours.”

You couldn’t believe the words coming out of Jakes mouth, hearing him say filthy things like that was turning you on more than you could’ve ever imagined. Obviously, your thoughts were written all over your face.

“You like it when I talk like that, don’t you, sweetheart.” He said, pinching one of your nipples as he did.

“I…Oh shit, yes, yes I do. Please.” You whimpered, almost going you crazy with the need to finally feel him. 

He had mercy on you, reaching out between your legs. When he touched your pussy for the first time, you felt like the pent-up tension could make you faint any moment.
“God, you’re so wet, Y/N.” He thrust two of his long fingers into you without warning, and you almost screamed.
“And so tight.”

“I need you, please Jake, fuck me.” You were begging now, way beyond caring about any sort of decorum as his digits touched that sweet spot inside of you again and again.

 He withdrew his fingers and shifted on top of you before he put his hands on your tights, spreading your legs. You couldn’t even begin to complain about the loss of his fingers, he was already lining up his cock with your entrance, and pushed in, slowly, filling you inch by inch until he bottomed out with a deep groan. His length stretched you in the most delicious way, and you cried out as he was starting to thrust in and out of you, leaving you almost no time to adjust to his size.

You couldn’t talk coherently anymore, you were just chanting his name over and over as he was fucking you into the sofa. Your nails clawed into his back as he was leaning over you, his hair falling into his face. Just as you thought you couldn’t feel any more pleasure, he grabbed one of your legs and probed it onto his shoulder, the new angle making you see stars with every move of his hips.

“You feel incredible, so tight and warm around me, you are amazing.” He looked down on you, taking in your face, squinted with pleasure, his name falling from your lips over and over again.

He reached between your legs and started rubbing your clit, never slowing down his relentless, hard thrusts. The combined stimulation was almost too much for you and your orgasm was approaching fast.

“Don’t stop, please, just don’t stop.” You cried out, the pleasure running through your body like a wildfire.

“Look at me when you come, I want to see you. Look at me!” Jake growled, breathing hard as he sped up even more.

You hit your peak with a cry, sparks dancing over your skin as your walls clenched around Jakes cock. Your eyes were fixed on his, and he looked at you like you were the only person on the entire planet.

Seeing you come undone beneath him, Jake only lasted for another few deep thrusts before he came, shouting your name and spilling his hot release inside of you.

 He laid on top of you afterwards, his face on your shoulder, breathing deeply. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and he turned his head to look at you.

“Hi” you said.

“Hi” he replied, your favorite smile spreading across his face again.

 “I liked that very much.” You said, pressing another kiss to his lips. He chuckled and propped himself up onto his arms with a small sight, rolling off you. Luckily, your sofa was large enough so you could comfortably lie next to each other.

“Me too, that was fantastic.” He replied and pulled you closer, putting his arm around you. You buried your face into his chest, soaking up the heat of his body and his wonderful smell.

 “Maybe you should come over more often.” You suggested, sounding a bit nervous again. You didn’t want to appear clingy. But this man had just rocked your world, and you couldn’t just act like nothing happened.

“I’ll come over whenever you want me to, sweetheart. Consider me at your beck and call.”

 “Stay the night?” you asked in a hopeful voice. You had work in the morning, but you just couldn’t imagine letting him go anywhere now.

He just nodded, smiled, and kissed you again. That soft, tingly feeling in your chest increased even more, and you just happily snuggled up to him.

 Later, as Jake was already asleep next to you, you took up your phone and sent a quick text message to Abby.

Next brunch is my treat! I owe you xxxx

[merakiclosed]

Yoongi - Exhausted

》 Pairing: Poor Single mum reader x Rich CEO Yoongi

》 Summary: Living in a rundown apartment, trying to raise a 7 year old and balancing one full time job and part time job on Saturdays was hard and tiring. What happens when you discover your crush on your boss, Yoongi. What if he happens to like you back.

Genre: Fluff 

》 Word count: 3k

》 Notes/ Warnings: One swearword used, She/her pronouns used, reader faints, talk of over working 

Masterlist | Requests & messages are open

Its 8pm on a Sunday evening when Yuna trudges into your room, yawning. You put the book you was reading down and chuckle when Yuna flops down onto the bed, headfirst and move a hand to stoke her messy hair.

“Mumma, the machine in the kitchen is making a funny sound again” she mumbles into the duvet. The machine that she was talking about was the washing machine, you know its not been doing well over the past few days, but your trying to make it last as long as it can. You might have just enough to buy a second hand one again if you’re lucky.

You sighed, “It’s okay, Mumma will sort it”

She dramatically throws herself so that she is now facing the ceiling, her eyes fluttering from tiredness. Her yellow pyjamas already on ready for bed, her hair a fluffy mess and her chubby cheeks slightly pink from the summer heat.

“Let’s get you to bed” you whisper to her, picking her up and walking towards her room.

You set her down in bed and tuck her in, brushing some hair out of her face. Kissing her forehead, you mumble “I love you sweet pea”

“M, love you” Yuna whispers so quietly, you almost miss it.

You get up and close the door with a low click. Turning around, you are faced with the poor excuse of an open plan apartment. The wallpaper was an odd, faded shade of grey, some of it bubbling off in the corner next to the front door from it being damp. It was a small apartment, the kitchen, living room and dining room squashed into one room. Yuna had the biggest room in the apartment and you tried to decorate the best you could. Her walls were pink, and her room was scattered with toys.

You was 18 when you had Yuna and your life turned upside down. Cliché but true. There were a lot of comments on how stupid you were to get pregnant and how irresponsible you were for not being careful enough at such a crucial point in your life. I mean, you saved up to go to university but all of that went down hill when you found yourself with Yuna, all of the money you saved went to her. Your parents kicked you out because they disapproved, after all, they always tried to plan your life. You never did live for yourself, it was always their plan, their way of living.

The worst of it was that the boy that got you pregnant. The boy you thought you would live forever with. Left. Once he heard you were pregnant, he fled and just wanted you so that he had someone he could bang ever now and then. He left, changing his phone number and even moved house. He was your everything, you thought he loved you, but clearly it was a lie. You rolled your eyes at the whole ordeal, you weren’t sad, but you were slightly angry, mainly at yourself at believing in something like love.

You shook your head, not wanting to think about this, you had to get ready for tomorrow. In the next 3 hours, you cleaned the house and sorted some emails before tomorrow, cooking some food for lunch and making Yuna’s pack up.

Yawning, you headed to your room, the bed digging into your back as you laid down. Checking to make sure that you set your alarm, you fell into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a series of banging on the front door, scaring the living daylights out of you. You stumble out of bed, trying not to fall over from being tangled around the duvet. However, your limbs didn’t cooperate with you and you fell onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

“fuck” you wheeze out

Another load of banging had you up and onto your feet, your hands trying to tame your bed hair.

“Happy Monday” An excited voice greets you once you open the door. You stare blankly at Taehyung as he smiles at you brightly. ‘It’s too early for this’, you thought.

“TaeTae” You hear a shout come from behind you as your shoved out of the way by your own daughter so that she can jump into his Taehyung’s arms.

“Hello, my little cuddle bunny” His face seems to light up even more when Yuna places her small hands on his cheeks and leans to kiss his nose.

You close the door behind them when they walk in, heading to the coffee pot.

“I’ll be right back” you mutter to them, though, you doubt that either of them heard you as they talk animatedly about how Yuna is going to write about a unicorn in her writing class today, as the theme was imagination. Gosh, how you wish you could back to that point in your life.

You get ready fairly quickly, your hair now suitable for a work environment. You were dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, deciding to ditch the blazer as the temperature was supposed to be high today.

You walk out and get a cup of coffee that was already sat on the side; Taehyung must have poured you a cup. You sit on the couch as Tae and Yuna sit in front of you, Tae drinking his coffee and Yuna eating some cereal, both of them fascinated by Strawberry Shortcake on the TV. You wonder if Taehyung is even the same age at you, as you watch him smiling at the kids show.

Checking the time, you realise that you probably set off now so that you are there on time. You lower yourself and kiss Yuna’s head, “Okay, I’m going now. I love you Yuna, make sure that Tae doesn’t forget his phone again” you chuckle.

“Heyyy, I’m the babysitter. Bye have a good day, don’t work too hard” Tae whines.

“Bye Tae” You say as you ruffle his hair. As you close the door, you hear Taehyung yell at you for messing with his hair.

You had a very boring office job from Monday – Friday and a small part-time job on Saturday, leaving Sunday for you and Yuna. You try to spend at much time with her as you can, trying to make up for the loss of another parent as well as the amount of hours that you don’t see her due to work. Sometimes you wonder if she is closer to Taehyung because of this. Taehyung has been with you and Yuna since she was born, as you met him just before you were pregnant. He was the only friend that stayed with you throughout the whole ordeal. He was like your big brother. – He was only a few months older.

The office job you had was boring. Mr Min, the CEO, was weird. He was handsome, but always looked cold, even though you doubt that he is as you often see his gummy smile. However, at least once a day you saw him. He always checked up on you, asking you to go to his office to ask if you’re alright or if you need help. He was amazing, he currently had silver hair that suited him so well, he was extra kind to you, he smiled a little more when with you compared to when he was with someone else. You blinked hard, pausing your steps. ‘Ah, shit. I think I like my boss’, you thought.

‘No, I can’t do that, I have Yuna. She comes first’

You was so caught up in your head that you didn’t notice another voice calling for you as you walked through the office.

“Hello? Ms L/N?” You jumped at the closeness of the voice, turning around to find Mr Min looking at you with an eyebrow raised, an amused smile coating his red, kissable lips. You quickly register that he said something and shake your head, nope we are not going there.

“Oh, Hi, yes hello, sorry” You stumbled over your words, an awkward smile on your face.

“How are you today Ms L/N?” He stares down at you.

“I’m okay thank you Mr Min” You say, stopping yourself from starring at his handsome features. “How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you” He runs a hand through his already messy hair and bids you goodbye as he closes the door to his office.

The only other bad thing about your job, other than it being boring, was the manager of your sector. He was always angry not matter what, you think you did a good job? Wrong. You think you’re done for the day? Wrong, there’s more work on your desk. He was horrible. You always ended up with twice your workload. More often that not, you would be working overtime. You couldn’t even count the amount of times you have had to call Taehyung and ask if he could stay later with Yuna, promising to buy him food.

Sitting down at your desk, you stretched first before logging on, you sigh looking at the photo of you and Yuna on your desk. All you could think about was working hard so that Yuna had a better life than this. A better life than the one that you live. The bad thing was, was that you didn’t even notice that your battery was running out. Quickly.

It was Friday morning when your manager came up to your desk and piled yet another load on your already cramped desk. In an authoritative tone he said “Y/N on my desk by the end of the day”.

You looked at your checklist on the post-it note on your computer, it was going to be a long day. Even though it was only 11am, you rang Tae and asked if he could stay later and that you promise to get him food and pay him extra, seeing as it was a Friday night.

You already felt disoriented this morning, your head throbbing as you lazily gazed at the manila folders on your desk. Realising that you forgot one of the folders in Mr Min’s office from this morning, you get up and head to his office. However, you don’t make it very far as a wave of dizziness crashed over you, you balanced yourself against the wall of the corridor and closed your eyes, breathing deeply for a second, composing yourself. You knocked on the door of his office and bowed once you entered, trying to muster a smile on your face. You just need to make it through today and it will all be fine.

“Hello, Ms L/N. How can I help?” He asks in a husky voice, trying to suppress his anger from his previous meeting. He looks down at his computer for a minute, expecting to hear you say something but when you don’t, he looks up at you. Your eyes seemed unfocused, your body swaying a bit as your whole-body shakes.

The ground beneath you seemed to spin as your eyesight got blurry, the pounding in your head getting worse by the second. With nothing to hold onto, your knees buckle under your weight, fear courses through Yoongi’s body as he catches you, just before you fall, pulling you into his chest. His hands shook as he called an ambulance, his voice wavering a bit. He didn’t know why he was so scared, you only passed out, you weren’t dying. Yet, he couldn’t stop shaking.

He was an idiot, he saw the signs of exhaustion as soon as you walked in on Monday, why didn’t he give you the week off, you was one of the most hard-working employees that he had. For his own selfish reasons, he didn’t want you to be off, he wanted to see you as much as possible. Yoongi admits that he did develop a small crush on, he wanted to know anything and everything about you. However, this was harder than he thought as you were a very closed off person, you hardly ever talked about your personal life and you always tried to keep the conversation topic to work. It wasn’t often when he saw you express your emotions, but when you smiled at him, his heart beat a little faster.

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted with a bright light, causing you to groan as you can faintly hear a little girls voice.

“Mum, Mum”

You blink a few more times as you come face to face with Yuna, her lips trembling and tears already cascading down her face. She pounces on to you, hugging you tightly. You wheeze, your eyes going wide from the hug attack.

“I was so worried when TaeTae came to pick me up” Her voice wavering.

“Aw, Yuna, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just fell asleep at work. Silly mum huh” You wipe away her ears and squish her chubby cheeks together, making her giggle.

“Come on bun, lets get your mum a drink from the vending machine” Taehyung comes to pick her up and bounces her up and down his arms. He looks back at you with a tired smile, concern written over his face. Looks like your going to have a long talk when you get back home.

A cough came from the right of you, turning your head, you find your boss sat that. Mr Min. He got up slowly to pour you a cup of water.

“Here” He have you the plastic cup and you took it with a small thanks.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you was feeling unwell?” He questioned, sitting on the seat next to the bed. It looked like he was going to reach a hand out towards you, but thought better of it as he lowered it, rubbing the back of his neck.

All you could do was shrug to his question, “I didn’t think it was important”. Your voice was so quiet, you didn’t think he heard it, but he did.

“Well, it is important.” He hesitated to say the next sentence “You know that I’m always here, right? I know that I am the big CEO, that I don’t always look friendly. But I want to get to know you. I don’t want to talk about just work, I want to know how you feel, what makes you happy, what makes you sad. I want to know you, Y/N. I want to know all about that little girl that came rushing to your bed in tears. The little girl that questioned why you was asleep. The little girl that resembles you so much”

You were speechless. No one wanted to get to know you, not since him. Although you did have a crush on him, you thought that you could never date, Yuna always being your top priority.

“You know that Taehyung told me everything” You looked up at him with wide eyes. Taehyung did WHAT? He knew about your crush, when you realised it on Monday, you nearly had a full-on melt down once you got home. Taehyung was, of course, there for you, telling you having a crush on someone was normal and it was completely fine. However, you were adamant that this was bad, you couldn’t bring someone else in your life, what happens if he leaves, you don’t think you could go through something like that again. Or what happens if Yuna doesn’t like him? Or he leaves and Yuna is already attached to him? You couldn’t do that to her.

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t hear Yoongi move to sit next to you on the hospital bed. This time, he didn’t hesitate to bring his hand up to move hair out of you face. You looked up at him with blurry eyes, tears threatening to escape. You were confused, exhausted, and stressed.

“I don’t know how long I can go on for like this” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’ve taken care of her for 7 years; Tae is her babysitter. He is always there if I need him, but I won’t be able to rely on him forever, he is always on the edge of his seat, waiting for me to call him and ask something else of him. I’m scared that one day, he will walk away, just like everyone else.” You added the last bit on, no longer scared of Yoongi’s reaction. You were just so, so tired.

Yoongi’s heart broke at both the words that you spoke and the tone of your voice. You were such a strong woman. He wanted to take all of the pressure of you, he wanted to give you the world. It’s what you deserved.

“Please let me take care of you now” He whispered, his hand lingering on your cheek.

“How do I know you won’t leave?” Your actions betrayed your words as you leaned into his touch.

“Trust me. Let me prove to you that I’m here and I always will be. Please let me in” he begged, his eyes showing nothing but love and care.

Your body started to shake as you sat up and threw yourself at him, hugging him. His arms went around your waist as he moved the both of you so that you were now sat in his lap. He cooed and whispered soothing words to you as your body wracked with sobs, you couldn’t stop crying.

“I trust you” you whispered into his ear, your breath causing goosebumps to rise on his skin.

When Yuna and Tae walked through the door, laughing loudly, they noticed that you were both passed out. You were on Yoongi’s lap, your head tucked into his chest, whilst his chin rested on top of your head. Both of your arms wrapped around each other.

“Is Mummy safe with that man” Yuna whispers into Taehyung’s ear. Taehyung smiled widely at the both of you, taking his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of the two of you, “Of course she is, Mumma has just found her prince. Now, let’s go and get ice cream”

Next: Mothers day

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 2

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 2. Click here for part 1. 

-- 

“I’m sorry I bailed.” Zach is sitting on the couch, his leg up on a pillow. Lady is laying on the floor, and both of them are looking equally guilty.

You think maybe Lady puked in Zach’s shoes somewhere again, and maybe he kinda deserved it.

“I hate you,” you tell him, but there’s no heat behind it. Alannah comes out the bedroom holding a pair of shoes.

“See if these fit you,” she orders, giving them to you.

“I like your wife more than you,” you say to Zach, who just laughs. He knows that’s not true: you love them equally.

You may love Lady a little more than both of them combined, however.

“I think it’s good that you’re going with Willy,” Zach says. “You can practice looking like you don’t hate him.” He holds out your cup of coffee, and you take a sip before handing it back to him.

If he’s not going to this wedding with you, he might as well hold your drink.

“I don’t hate him,” you mumble. “I just don’t adore him like you do. You worship the ground he walks on.”

“I think you’d get along great, if you tried,” Alannah says, although you can’t remember asking for her opinion – fine, maybe you’re a little grumpy about it all. “He’s very funny, and he’s easy to chat to. Your family will love that.” She grins. “Besides, he’s hot.”

“Very hot,” Zach nods in agreement, and it would be weird if it wasn’t how everyone responded to William Nylander.

It’s exhausting, to be honest.

Zach, being the great friend that he often is, must notice your reluctance, because he smiles, and his voice is gentle when he says: “Hey, you look beautiful, Y/N. Honestly, nobody is gonna believe that you brought Willy, you’re way outta his league.”

You’re about to tell him to stop lying – you’re not stupid, thank you very much, and William Nylander is still very much not in your league, maybe not even in the same sport - when there’s a knock on the door.

“Must be him.” Alannah fixes your hair and your dress, and Zach gets up and hobbles towards the door, Lady on his heels.

“It’s gonna go great,” she whispers with a wink, and you wonder if you look that nervous, or if your friends just know you very well.

It’s just…

Fine, normally you don’t like Will, but you can stand him for an hour or two. Especially because you’re never alone with him, so you just plaster yourself to Zach’s side, or Mitchy’s, or Dermie’s, or…

Well, anyone, really.

But now you are alone with him, and for multiple hours at that, and you’re going to have to convince your boss and your colleagues that he’s your plus one.

How on earth are they ever going to believe you? Worse, what if someone recognizes him?

“Wow, you look great.”

You turn around to see Will staring at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. He’s cleaned up nice, to be fair; his grey suit fits just right, hugging his muscles in all the right places, and you can tell he’s actually put effort in his hair today.

“Already told her she’s out of your league, buddy,” Zach jokes, slapping Will on the shoulder the way bro’s do, sometimes, and then there’s some pleasantries exchanged and Alannah fixes your lipstick and then suddenly you’re in Will’s car.

It’s a nice car, but it’s not overly posh or flashy, and it surprised you a little. With Will’s ridiculous clothing choices something – Balenciaga socks, really? – you’d expected him to have some sorta matched car to Mitchy’s stupid sports car.

“You look like I’m putting you in a tractor,” Will laughs, as he starts the car. You must’ve been looking around a little dazed, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the notion that you’ve been caught.

“Sorry,” you say. Then, because you wanna start this day off on the right note: “It’s a nice car, just not what I expected from you.”

Will hums. “Usually when people say that, it’s not a compliment.”

But he doesn’t say it in a malicious way, just very matter of factly, so you don’t bother to defend yourself – he’s kinda right, after all – and just listen to the music that he puts on.

“Country?” you feel yourself smile. “Where’s the ABBA?”

“I was born in Calgary,” Will rolls his eyes in a playful way, then turns up the music.

It’s not until you’re almost there that Will speaks.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”

For a second, you wonder what he’s talking about; you were lost in the music and staring out the window at the beautiful scenery surrounding you. Your boss is getting married in an old, beautiful mansion somewhere in the countryside, and you’re surrounded by green fields and scenic streams.

“Oh, I thought we’d just go in and like, see what happens. We’re only gonna go to the reception, not the ceremony, so it should be good. Drinks and food and music, and stuff.”

“I meant more in regards to the fake dating stuff.”

“Oh.” Now your cheeks are truly flaming. “I mean, I guess I could just introduce you as my plus one and they’ll assume we’re dating?”

Then, - and you have no idea where this came from - you add: “We could try to look flirty, so it makes more sense.”

Willy nods in agreement. “You’re a smart one.” When you snort in response, he raises an eyebrow. “What, I can’t say that?”

“No, you can.” You decide to tell him the truth. “It’s just funny cause the one thing I never liked about Noah was that he would always compliment me on my appearance when I was dressed up or whatever, but he would never compliment me on any accomplishments or my characteristics or just, anything other than my body, basically.” You look out of the window. “I’ve been thinking a lot about him because of this wedding stuff, and I guess it’s just one of those things that tells me it was never meant to be.”

It stays quiet in the driver’s seat, and when you glance up at Will he’s frowning.

“Literally everything you’ve said about this guy makes me want to punch him in the nose,” he finally says, and there’s an edge to his voice. “You deserve so much better, Y/N, and…” He cuts himself off, settles on; “He just sounds like a dick.”

You must be staring at Will like he grew a second head, because that’s not what your… acquintanceship, has ever been like. You’re not even really friends, and Will has never said anything to you that wasn’t a mere observation – “nice restaurant” – a question about logistics – “did you wanna hop in this Uber or are you going to ride with Matts?” – or, well, a chirp.

But he seems genuinely offended on your behalf and you have to admit it warms your heart a little.

Maybe, just maybe, you kinda see why Zach likes him. This type of loyal, fierce protectiveness reminds you of your best friend a lot. Maybe Will isn’t so bad.

“We’re there,” Will says then, and the mansion that dooms up in front of you is big enough to be classified as a castle, you think. Will parks the car, but doesn’t get out. “So,” he asks, eyeing you carefully, “you ready?” 

Not really.

But you nod anyway. 

--

As soon as you walk into the building, which is massive and beautiful, one of your colleagues comes running up to you.

“Ellie,” you greet her with a smile, and she kisses your cheek quickly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she beams. “It’s just no fun without you.”

Ellie is one of your favorite colleagues, always down to go on coffee breaks with you and talk about whatever is on your mind. If anyone would know that you were going to take Will to the wedding, it would’ve been her, except she hadn’t known, so you’re not surprised by her wide eyes as she takes Will in.

“Hello?” she asks, an obvious question mark at the end of her sentence.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Will’s smile is bright and polite. “I’m Will, Y/N’s plus one for the night.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Ellie smiles, then turns to you and hisses: “You didn’t tell me you were gonna bring a hot guy!”

Except she’s not being quiet or subtle at all, and a smug smirk appears on Willy’s face.

Just when you thought his head couldn’t get any bigger.

It turns out to be way easier than you thought it would be, to go around and introduce people to Will.

Nobody mentions that they recognize him and you’re glad for it, because the one time someone stared at him a bit too long Willy started shuffling on his feet and staring at the floor, as if the attention made him uncomfortable.

You know it doesn’t, because you’ve seen him with fans before, but you can’t help but be glad that he doesn’t have to be William Nylander from the Toronto Maple Leafs, tonight.

It’s not like you would really know how to handle that.

Apart from that moment, Will fits in like he was always supposed to be there. He charms your coworkers, your boss, and it doesn’t surprise you because you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s not been charmed by him, but it still lifts a weight off your chest.

At first, Will follows you around the room while you talk to people. He stays close enough that his shoulder keeps brushing yours, and every now and then his hand lays heavy on your lower back.

You suppose it’s better that way, to make people think that you actually like each other.

Somehow, though, and you really don’t remember the exact time you lost him, Will ends up talking to some people you’ve not even ever met before, while you’re standing by the bar with Ellie.

“So,” Ellie says, and the knowing tone in her voice puts you on edge. “You forgot to mention you have a smoking hot boyfriend.”

Immediately, you go into defense. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend of Zach’s, and he’s come as my plus one as a favor.”

Ellie knows Zach from your birthday dinners, and she nods knowingly.

“I figured. He plays hockey, too, right?”

How the hell does she know that?  

The question must show on your face because she laughs. “It’s not rocket science. Have you looked at his ass?”

You can’t say you’ve never looked at it, but you haven’t looked at it today. However, now that she’s mentioned it, you can’t stop yourself from letting your gaze travel.

His ass looks really good in that suit, you have to admit.

“If you thought he was my boyfriend, why were you looking at his ass anyway?” It’s mostly teasing, but Ellie hears the underlying edge under it and rolls her eyes.

“I don’t have to drive the car to admire the engine.”

It such a ridiculous comparison that you burst out laughing. You’re still giggling when Ellie adds: “However, if you’re not dating, maybe I’ll go shoot my shot.”

Something twists in your stomach, but there’s absolutely no reason for it. Why would you care if she flirts with Will? He’s not actually dating you. 

“You do that,” you tell her, and you ignore the heavy feeling in your stomach as she winks at you and saunters over at Will.

The thing is, Ellie is exactly the kinda girl you’d expect Will to be interested in. She’s beautiful, with long legs and long hair, and she’s witty and funny and smart. She’s also actually good at flirting – you’ve seen her in enough bars to know that.

You watch as Will turns to her, welcoming her with a sly smirk and a hand on her elbow. She throws her head back when she laughs, and suddenly your wine doesn’t taste so good anymore.

You don’t really see Will – or Ellie, for that matter – the rest of the evening. You go around and mingle with people you don’t really care about, congratulate the happy couple and drink a little too much wine.

It’s a lot later when suddenly, a familiar hand lands on your lower back.

“Don’t kill me,” Will’s voice sounds low in your ear. “But I did something kinda dumb.”

Oh no.

You put on your fakest smile as you excuse yourself from your conversation and let Willy pull you with him through the crowd, until you’re in an empty hallway that you think leads to the kitchen.

“What did you do?” you hiss, and Willy’s hand drops away from you as he stares to the floor.

“First, you need to promise not to get mad,” he says.

You really can’t promise that, but Will has crossed his arms and is stubbornly staring at you, and you know Will is used to getting what he wants and won’t tell you unless you agree with him. So you do.

“Fine.”

“So your friend Ellie was flirting with me,” he starts. Instantly, your blood runs cold; if he did something to upset her… “Fucking hell, Y/N, I didn’t hurt her.” Will rolls his eyes. “What kinda jerk do you think I am?”

He seems genuinely offended and you chide yourself for rushing to conclusions like that, when you’ve never known Will to be that kinda guy.

Sure, he’s annoying, cocky and loud and flippant, sometimes, but he’s not evil. He’s one of Zach’s best friends, after all.

“I was nice to her,” Will continues, “and she was nice, too. Super hot.” His eyes twinkle, and you have to shove back the flash of annoyance that tears through your body. You don’t need Will to see that.

“Anyway, I’m here supposed to be dating you, so obviously I didn’t flirt back, but she wasn’t giving up and it was getting a bit much, so I thought, if I just talk with someone else she’ll get the hint. And I was just being nice to that other girl, but I guess it looked like I was flirting.”

The most horrible thought crosses your mind.

“You didn’t flirt with the bride!”

The sigh Will lets out is heavy. “No, obviously not. You have a really low opinion on me, huh?”

You kinda do, but you just stare at him blankly.

“It was just some girl who maybe kinda has a boyfriend, and now that boyfriend maybe kinda wants to break my face.” His eyes widen comically. “I have a very nice face, I don’t want to break it.”

You can’t help it; immediately, you’re snorting out laughter.

“Willy,” you giggle, “are you telling me you’re about to get beat up at a wedding?”

Will huffs. “It’s not funny. He was massive.”

Suddenly, you think of something. “Oh my God, please tell me it’s not Rick from finance.”

“What does Rick from finance look like?” Willy’s eyes are wide and a little wild.

With every detail you describe, he gets paler, until he nods. “Yep, I’m pretty sure it was Rick from finance.”

“Rick from finance does MMA fighting in his spare time,” you tell him, finally feeling a little sorry for him. “He could destroy you.”

Will reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezes it tight as if that will somehow keep him safe. “We have to get out of here.”

Maybe, if you were a lesser person, you would’ve stayed, just to see Willy sweat. But you do feel bad for him and to be honest, you’re tired and kinda done with the wedding, anyway.

“Okay, let’s go home,” you promise him, softly patting his hand with yours. “But when we get home, I’m so gonna tell Zach you nearly got beat up by some guy in finance.”

“Don’t you dare,” Will threatens, but he’s smiling again and you won’t admit to yourself that you’re glad for it.

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“I really wasn’t flirting with that girl, or the other girl. I wouldn’t do that when I came here with you.”

And it shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t. 

It kinda does, anyway. 

[faangirl101]

Burning Heart: Pt 2

Burning heart masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x reader, Zuko x y/n

Tags: Enemies to lovers, slow burn

Summary: Raised mostly by yourself, you made a living for your youth years as a maid in one of the richest families in Ba sing se, Beifongs. There Toph, a blind young rich girl, taught you earth bending and also became your new family. Not that you would admit that to her. Together you escape Ba sing se on the back of a flying bison with the Avatar, in a mission to take back the world from the fire nation. But on the journey you didn’t plan to team up with the Fire prince himself, and you definitely did not plan to get butterflies around him. But you couldn’t possibly catch feelings for a fire bender right? They ruined your life and took everything of value from you. But you couldn’t lie to your burning heart.

Warnings: swearing

The Western Air temple

The forest was darker than I thought it be. At these hours I assumed that the sun would be swallowing the green moss but the trees prevented most streaks. I didn't even realize I was running until the trees got more scattered, allowing the sun to peek through. I had no real plan how to find him, I hadn't looked for footprints or broken branches. I was like an impulsive idiot. I just rushed into a forest alone. But I had to find him. I had to confront him. I had to kill him. He opposes a threat to the gang, to Toph. I had underestimated him before, I would not do it again. I gave myself a few seconds to take a breath. I had been running for a good while and was out of breath and covered in sweat. Stupid idiot. As I bent forward to allow air into my lungs I detected something. A sting of smoke sipped through my lungs and burned my throat. A fire. He was close. Now more collected and controlled I sneaked forward. With every step i took i made sure to bend the ground under me so moss swallowed any possible noise my shoe could make. The only thing hearable was the chirping of cardinal birds and the drilling of woodpeckers. The scent of burning wood got closer and closer and I quickened my steps in response. Finally it was so strong I suspected it must be in earth bending distance. I peeked behind the tree in front of me to find a camp. The bonfire was put out but still fervor and the ash was still warm. And Zuko.

He looked exactly the same as yesterday but it still made me halt in my steps. The streaks of suns fighting through the thick branches reached across his face glistening in sweat. His hair still had the morning ruff and his scar seemed even more red than yesterday. Every little killing method I imagined in my head on the way here was completely gone. Now when he stood in front of me, it was different. But I had to keep reminding myself of the image of Toph's scorched feet. “Zuko”, I growled and he turned abruptly. He was startled by my presence, but scared of the look in my eyes. In a second of boiling blood and red vision I bend the earth around him to drag him towards me so we’re face to face. This close the details of his sharp features were prettier. He was pretty this close. The two or three freckles across the bridge of his nose. The pink tint of his lip. The softness of his hair. I shook the thought away as I lifted my hand to grasp his throat. Not to stop him breathing, but to make him feel threatened. He didn't seem that threatened by his bored look but I could feel the lump he swallowed vibrate against my palm. “I didn't believe the shit they said about you until what you did to Toph”, I clicked my tongue in denial “burning a little blind girl? that's low, even for you Prince”. He strained against my grip with a scowl “Don't call me that”. I raised an eyebrow “What? Prince? Oh right! I forgot. Banished huh? Why do you think the Avatar would want you when even your own family doesn't”. That seemed to be a soft spot since he somehow with pure body strength broke himself free from the stone cuffs around his feet to push me backwards. I lost my footing but luckily didn't trip all too embarrassing.  But the shame made me furious as I attacked him. I was just about to bend the ground under him when he moved like a panther against me. I groaned loudly in pain when my back rasped against the rough bark of a tree. Both my wrists were locked in a hard grip by his much larger hands. His body heat radiated over to mine as he pushed up against me, preventing me from moving. “Calm down”, his voice was in my hair, forcing a shiver down my spine. I swallowed thickly, unsure what to do. “Look”, he leaned back to look into my eyes, which was somehow worse. Against my will I met his honey pool eyes. “It was an accident, she came in the middle of the night and startled me. It was self defense. I had no idea it was her”. I stayed quiet, trying my best to escape his grip. It was too much, his rough palms against my sensitive skin, his hot breath in my face. Just the knowledge that he was so close set my body on fire. If i stayed here any longer i would do something i would surely regret. “Get off me”, my voice came out chapped and raspy. Instead of it sounding like an order it came out like a plea. His thumb swiped across the side of my palm swiftly before letting go. It was a small motion, but I noticed. It made my heart pound furiously, I bet he could feel it. the rumpling deep in my chest. I licked my dry lips, finally taking a step away from his. It felt like the world lifted off my shoulder when I finally got out of his intoxicating aura. I was happy I didn't faint. I pointed at him “If you ever, and i mean ever, touch Toph again. I will hunt you down, Prince”. I spit the last part and happily noticed he scrunched up his face. Then I turned around and left with my heart still beating twice the normal pace. 

Returning to the Air temples i was relieved that no one noticed i left. It would be too embarrassing and shameful to explain. Explain how Zuko, The fire prince, pushed me up against a tree and gave me butterflies. Butterflies! Ridiculous. I spent the next hour pounding, trying to understand why Zuko even affected me in the way he did. I mean yes, he was obviously attractive, but… he was a fire bender! A person I've been taught to hate since the moment of my birth. The thought about my childhood made anxiety grow like a rock in the depths of my stomach so I decided to make myself busy. I couldn't keep puzzling about this. My thoughts got cut off by loud rumbling followed by ear crushing noises, so loud the ground vibrated. Someone shot something at the temple, and by the looks of it, it was aiming for the gang. On instinct I sprinted in their direction as I saw Aang and Sokka lifting up Toph from the fountain.”Stop!”,I froze at the familiar voice. 

I turned my head so fast it made my neck burn. Up on a cliff a bit away was a huge figure next to…. Zuko. “I don't want you hurting the Avatar anymore!”. Aang groaned as he tried his best to carry Toph away from the scene. “The mission is off. I'm ordering you to stop”, Zuko struck his hands in front of the man. He was crazy, the much larger man could snap him in half. the Combustion Man. The man couldn't care less as he with ease shoved zuko out of the way and charged his eye. Another explosion, now much closer, made the entire place threaten to fall apart. If it wasn't for the small stone wall I bent over my friends, we would have been crushed by stone. 

“If you keep attacking, I won't pay you!”,Zuko cupped his hands so fire was aiming against the large man. The combustion man was starting to get annoyed as he easily docked the fire and grabbed onto Zuko’s smaller body. “Okay i'll pay you double to stop!”.

I looked over at Aang “we should move”. He nodded in agreement, peaking over the stone wall. “Okay”, he looked back with frightened eyes. “Zuko seems to be keeping him busy, move now”. My legs almost gave up under me as I stood up with Toph's body over my shoulder. I gasped as I saw Zuko get thrown off the cliff. There were so many feelings in my body it confused me. There is no way he could survive a fall like that. Worry for his life was the feeling finally taking over as I swallowed down the lump rising. But in the last second it seemed, he grasped onto a vine hanging down the cliff. “Go”, Aang yelled and I nodded swiftly. I didn't look back but I could hear the familiar woosh of Aangs air bending behind me. Before I even had time to move Toph we got thrown by a sudden explosion behind us. Lucky us, I bent the ground under us so we didn't fall. “Stay here”, I mumbled to Toph as I placed her behind a wall. She crossed her arms annoyed and nodded to her brunt feet “it's not like I have much of a choice”. As I turned around I saw the rest of our gang run towards me. They had just enough time to jump next to us before the next explosion ruined the temple. “he’s going to blast this whole place right off the cliff side!”, Toph yelled, eyes blown wide exposing her grey glazed irises. Katara took a deep breath before peeking behind the wall only to see another incoming blast. She looked back at us with pursed lips “I can't step out to waterbend at him without being blown up and I can't get a good enough angle on him from down here”. At the world angle Sokka’s entire face brightened up. I swore I could see a lightbulb over his head. “I know how to get an angle on him!”, he shouted. I looked him up and down “really? well do tell”. Sokka fumbles with his belt before taking out his boomerang. After another blast, he sneaks his head out, but has to hide from yet another shot. With his tongue out, clearly in deep concentration, he projects  Combustion Man’s angle with his boomerang. He takes a deep breath “all right buddy, don't fail me now”. With a tensed arm he aims the boomerang and then uses his whole upper body strength to send it flying. In surprise the boomerang hits the assassin in the head where his third eye tattoo is, causing him to hit the ground. Sokka’s face is priceless as he catches the boomerang “yeah boomerang!”. But then the silence is broken by the assassin's heavy body getting up, clearly a bit shaken. Sokka's face fell “Awwww, boomerang…”. this is how we die huh? There was no way a few children could take on a trained assassin. But he seemed to take care of that job himself because his next aim is completely off. He misses, his next blast hits the ground around him. The ground shakes a few times under his feet before it gives up under him, causing him to fall.  As I help Toph up the best I can Zuko appears. Aang looks hesitant at him “i can't believe i'm saying this, but….thanks, zuko”. Sokka clearly took it personally as he turned to Aang “hey! What about me? I did the boomerang thing.” I rolled my eyes at his child's demeanor. 

Zuko looked down before meeting Aang's eyes “Listen, I know I didn't explain myself very well yesterday, I've been through a lot in the last few years, and it's been hard. But I'm realizing that I had to go through all those things to learn the truth. I thought I had lost my honor, and that somehow my father could return it to me. But I know now that no one can give you your honor. It's something you earn for yourself, by choosing to do what's right. All I want to do now is play my part in ending this war, and I know my destiny is to help you restore balance to the world”. 

No one was ready for his speech, especially not me. This was a needed side of him I hadn't seen. I recognized myself in his words and I had to turn my head to  clear my mind. 

Zuko turned to Toph with shame in his eyes. “ I'm sorry for what I did to you”, he bows in her direction “It was an accident. Fire can be dangerous and wild, so as a firebender, I need to be more careful and control my bending, so I don't hurt people unintentionally”. I didn't know what to do with myself. Everything he said made sense, felt sincere. But it went against everything I had been taught. Every word, scolding, from my father. Everything he had told me. I rarely agreed with my father but when it came to the fire nation we used to be on the same page.  Aang opened his mouth to speak but closed it almost immediately. He looks in thought as if he tries to be careful with his words. He finally collected himself “I think you are supposed to be my firebending teacher. When I first tried to learn firebending, I burned Katara, and after that, I never wanted to firebend again. But now I know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love. I'd like you to teach me”. He then slowly bent forward, bowing respectfully to Zuko. I could see how hard he tried to keep that smile back as he bowes back “Thank you. i'm so happy you've accepted me into your group”. Aang stopped him in his words “Not so fast. I still have to ask my friends if it's okay with them.”. He turns to Toph with kind eyes “Toph, you're the one that Zuko burned. What do you think?”. Toph shrugs her shoulders. “Go ahead and let him join”, She pounds her fist into her palm jokingly “it'll give me plenty of time to get back at him for burning my feet”. I meet zuko’s eyes and mumbles under my breath “that makes two of us”. Aang turns to Sokka. Sokka shrugs in response “Hey, all I want is to defeat the fire lord. If you think this is the way to do it, then, I'm all for it”. A part of me was excited to see what Katara would say. She clearly loved Aang and trusted him with her life, but she also hated Zuko with all her spirit.  Aang slowly approached Katara. She looked Zuko up and down. Her glare is so hot I could feel Zuko's nervousness. I swore I could see sweat climbing down his forehead.  Finally she drops her walls “ I'll go along with whatever you think is right”. Relieved Aang smiles at her. He gives me a look but I understand the question. All my feelings are conflicted, but this was not my place to speak “Fine”. I look up my eyelashes “On one condition?”. Zuko noods with stiff movement. I smirk sideways “If i can joke about your scar”. The expression on Zuko’s face was hard to read. Either he was extremely offended or thought it was amusing. He gave me a sideways nod which I took as a yes. 

The gang for some reason gave me the job to show him to his room. Probably because they thought I had the least history with him. Little do they know. The walk towards the room was awkward, both of us trying to keep our distance. “Um here we are”, I nodded towards the door and he walked into the room. I glanced toward him “Um, I think it's lunch soon. So, um unpack. um”. He looks up on me and gives me a weak smile. “And”, i weightened forwards and backwards on my feet “And well, keep an eye out. Either eye  works, but for you i guess the choice is pretty obvious”. He snorted “is that the best you can do?”. I was already down the hallway “trust me Prince pretty, i'm only getting started”.

Taglist: @eridanuswave , @Whalerus, @keiko0

[jaskierrrrrr]

the four times Geralt refuses to admit he and Jaskier are friends and the one time he does???? aka I have a lot of feelings about my boys?? enjoy

***

The first time they meet, Jaskier immediately opens his mouth and doesn’t shut it again for God knows how long. Geralt finds it hard to keep track of what he’s saying; the sentences pour from his mouth like wine from a pitcher. He learns his name is Jaskier, he’s a bard and his sworn enemy is someone called Valdo Marx, all in about 30 seconds, and all unprompted.

Despite his annoyance at the bard’s- Jaskier’s- incessant talking, there’s a part of him that’s actually happy that someone’s willing to treat him like a normal man. Where the other patrons of the tavern had moved as far away from him as possible, Jaskier has no issue sitting across from him, leaning forward as he gesticulates wildly, pausing only to pause for breath or to shift the strap of his lute back up onto his shoulder.

‘So,’ Jaskier says brightly, snatching a sip of ale from Geralt’s tankard and ignoring the scowl on the Witcher’s face. ‘Where are we heading off to?’

Geralt can’t help but smile in amusement as he rises from the table. ‘We?’ he asks. ‘I don’t remember inviting you.’

Jaskier jumps up, falling in step with a soft smile. ‘You didn’t need to. What kind of friend would I be if I let you go off to fight monsters alone?’

‘We just met,’ Geralt points out; they’ve reached the stables and he greets Roach with a soft pat. ‘And I’m not your friend.’

Jaskier rolls his eyes. ‘I never said you were. But I’m your friend, and I’m coming with you, so there’s no point complaining.’

Geralt has nothing to say to that, so he doesn’t bother trying. He mounts his horse and sets off towards the mountains, and if he’s going at a slower pace so that Jaskier can keep up, well, that’s between him and Roach. *** The next time, Geralt hears Jaskier before he sees him. The bard had been travelling alongside Geralt for a couple of months when he’d mysteriously informed Geralt he had business to attend to.

‘Don’t worry,’ he’d said, winking as he packed up his lute, ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

And now here he was. As Geralt rounds the corner, rolling his shoulders that ached from his latest fight, he sees Jaskier perched on Roach singing merrily. To Roach’s credit, she seems to be tolerating it remarkably well- normally anyone other than Geralt trying to approach her causes… issues.

Jaskier catches sight of Geralt and his eyes light up. ‘Geralt!’ he calls, delighted.

Geralt just rolls his eyes. ‘I thought you knew by now not to touch Roach,’ he says, but his tone is mild.

Jaskier slips from the horse, amusement sparkling in his eyes. ‘Oh, I forgot the Golden Rule!’ he laughs. ‘So, my friend, are you ready to tell me the epic tale of your latest heroic deeds? Or would you like to hear my latest ballads first?’

Geralt snorts. ‘I think I need a drink before I’m subjected to that.’

Jaskier smiles and wrinkles his nose. ‘And a bath too, by the look of it. You smell worse than Roach.’ 

He pats Geralt on the shoulder. ‘Come on,’ he says, leading Geralt to a nearby inn, ‘I’ve got rooms for us here.’ ‘How did you even know where to find me?’ Geralt asks.

Jaskier shrugs his shoulders. ‘Consider it as just another of my numerous talents,’ he says mysteriously, and Geralt just sighs before following him through the doorway.

*** 

Geralt really, really doesn’t know how Jaskier’s managed to rope him into this. It seems to be a talent of his; Geralt’s gotten into more ridiculous situations in the ten or so years he’s known Jaskier than in the rest of his life. Which is why he finds himself leaning against a pillar in a spacious banquet hall filled with the sounds of laughter and life, keeping a weather eye on the bard, who’s currently serenading the wedding party with love songs.

He’d practically begged Geralt to come as his protection.

‘It’s not my fault that I’m so desirable,’ he’d sighed, throwing himself into a chair, ‘can I help being so handsome that people want to sleep with me?’

Shaking his head in amazement, Geralt had replied, ‘Jaskier. You slept with the bride and the groom. And neither of them knows about the other’s infidelity. And you want to play at their wedding?’ 

Jaskier had looked up with pleading blue eyes. ‘Yes?’ he’d said, and so now Geralt was standing awkwardly in uncomfortable formal clothes that Jaskier had decided to force him into, as if him just having to be there wasn’t bad enough.

He sighed in relief when Jaskier finished his final ballad with a flourish and roguish wink to the crowd. He makes his way over to Jaskier, who rolls his eyes at the scowl on Geralt’s face.

‘Oh really, it wasn’t that bad, was it? You just had to listen to your very best friend sing for a couple of hours. Sounds like a very pleasant evening to me.’ He grins up at Geralt, but then catches sight of something behind him that causes the smile to slip from his face.

‘Ah,’ he says, ‘we should probably make a hasty exit.’

Geralt raises an eyebrow. ‘Why? Is the bride coming to kill you?’

Jaskier gulps. ‘Worse. It’s her mother.’

Geralt rests his head in his hands. ‘For fuck’s sake, Jaskier,’ he sighs, already grabbing the bard by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the exit. ‘I don’t know why I put up with you.’

Jaskier laughs. ‘Cause we’re best friends, silly!’ ‘Hmm,’ replies Geralt.

***

Oxenfurt is a bustling and lively place, bright with its brightly coloured roofs and narrow cobbled lanes filled with students and scholars, but Jaskier’s smile is the brightest thing of all. It’s been a couple of years since Geralt last saw him; Jaskier rarely accompanies him on quests any more, always blaming his age. To Geralt, he was as young as ever- the crow’s feet barely noticeable when compared to the vividness of Jaskier’s eyes, the grey in his hair nothing compared to the youth he exudes whenever he sings or talks. 

He tries to visit him as often as he can, happy to sit by the fire and tell Jaskier everything he’s missed, happier still to hear Jaskier’s stories of his students and research. This time, Jaskier isn’t expecting him, so Geralt wanders the halls of the Academy, idly listening to the chatter of students, until he hears the voice he’s seeking.

‘Geralt!’ Jaskier calls over the shoulder of the random professor he’d been in deep conversation with. He strides towards him, grin stretched wide across his face, and claps Geralt on the shoulder. ‘My oldest friend, how are you doing? Have you missed me? Come, tell me what’s been keeping you so busy lately.’ 

Geralt smiles. ‘I’m well, Jaskier. I trust you are too?’

They make an unusual pair, especially in Oxenfurt. There are a few whispers around them, not of malice, mostly just curiosity, as they make their way down the corridor, easily falling into familiar rhythms.

‘Of course,’ Jaskier replies, ‘although I would undoubtedly be better if you would finally call me your friend.’ There’s no anger in his tone, only the fondness that came with a well-worn argument.

The corners of Geralts’s mouth tug upwards. He’d missed how easy it was to just be around Jaskier. ‘Surely after all these years you aren’t still expecting me to say it?’

Jaskier meets his eyes, and there’s something in his expression that Geralt can’t read. ‘One of these days,’ he says softly, ‘you’ll finally be able to admit it.’ He pauses, his expression almost sad for a moment before a smile returns to his face. ‘And I will never let you forget it,’ he laughs triumphantly, and Geralt can’t help but join in, both their voices bouncing off the walls.

***

It takes another decade for Jaskier’s prediction to come true. It’s been a particularly cold winter, and the wind whips through Geralt’s hair as he follows the winding path. His cheeks are smarting by the time he reaches Jaskier at the top of the mountain. 

He freezes when he sees him, struggling to find the words. After several long moments, he finally opens his mouth.

‘Well, here we are,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually about to say it.’ He pauses, frowning. ‘Actually, I can’t believe it took me so long to admit it.’ 

He looks away, up at the clouds swirling above them and focuses on the few white flakes that have started to float down from the sky. ‘Jaskier. You are the best companion anyone could ask for. And I hope you know-’ Geralt’s voice cracks, and he drops his head, breathing in the cold air for several long seconds before he’s able to continue. ‘And I hope that you know, that I’ve always considered you my best friend. Even if I never said it out loud until now. I hope you know.’

Geralt raises his head and sets his jaw, nodding once at his friend before turning and walking back down the path, the cold freezing the wetness on his cheeks.

And as the snow falls like dust on his best friend’s grave, Geralt doesn’t look back.

[katedrakeohd]

What Happens in Paris...(7)

Masterlist

Back at the train, the men and women separate to get ready for the tea party. Down in Max and Drake’s shared room, Drake is sitting on his bed watching Max do his primp and polish in front of the mirror. Impeccably dressed in his black Gucci dress shirt and trousers, Maxwell is running a comb through his neatly trimmed hair and whistling. If he wasn’t his friend, Drake could almost hate him for it. His clothing style rarely changed. His way of taking his day look into a night look usually involved the undoing of a button on his shirt, and the addition of a hair product to keep himself looking sharp when he broke out the moves on the dance floor. Drake knew though, even by day when Maxwell appeared to be calm and collected there was always a three ring circus, complete with peacocks, going on inside his head.

Drake looked down at Maxwell’s shiny black shoes, and then glanced at his own scuffed and worn looking brown ones. As much as Drake didn’t want to dress all fancy for a Royal tea party today, he knew that Kate was expected to be there. Plus he wanted to witness the look of envy on Maddy’s face when Kate walked in all dressed up and stole away attention from the future Queen. Although he usually wouldn’t give a damn how he looked when he skulked his way into events after everyone else important arrived. This time he knew Kate would be under Liam’s lustful eye, and it made his stomach ache at the thought. If he was going to escort Kate into this stupid party, even as her seemingly platonic friend, he had to make an effort to fit in for his own peace of mind. Drake cleared his throat to get Maxwell’s attention. I can’t believe I’m doing this again. Heaven help me.

“Uh, Max? About this party today… I can’t exactly show up looking like some bum off the street. Could you help me pick out something fit to wear?”  

Maxwell gasped, dropping the lint roller he was using to remove fluff and hair from his trouser leg. “Really?! You’ll let me dress you up for two events in a row?”

Drake sighs, getting up from the bed and running his hands through his hair. “Well don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal. My grumpy best friend wants to impress a girl!”

Drake grimaced, “Tone it down will ya? Besides, you are not my best friend.”

Maxwell is unfazed by the brush off and just raises his eyebrows, nodding, “Oh right! We’re even better than that now. We’re family!”

Drake opens his mouth to protest and then closes it again. Technically Max was right, as painful as it was for him to admit. He raises his hands and gives Max an impatient head shake, “Alright! Alright! Whatever! Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course I will. Show me what you got.”

Drake holds his hands out to the sides to display his current denim disaster.

“No, no silly.” Maxwell drags over Drake’s suitcase and flops it onto the bed. Drake places a protective hand on top, shakes his head.

“No point in looking in there," Drake grumbles.

“Okay then, to the Royal Closet we go.”

Kate sits in front of Hana’s portable makeup mirror, while Hana runs a round brush through her hair, coaxing it into soft waves. “I love your hair Kate, it’s so soft and manageable. What shampoo do you use?”

With a shrug, Kate admires her freshly painted fingernails. “Some kind of fruity scented stuff that I bought at the drugstore. Drake forgot to grab the matching conditioner when we showered, so I hope my hair doesn't get all full of static and frizz.”

Hana meets Kate's gaze in the mirror and they both giggle. “Oh my goodness, Kate. No wonder you two were late for breakfast.”

Trying to hide her blush in the lighted mirror was impossible, “Yeah, well I did interrupt him while he was shaving this morning. And damn he looked sexy in that bathrobe.”

Hana sighed with envy as she parted Kate’s hair and swept it behind her shoulder. Kate hands her the golden, flower embellished comb from the counter. “What’s it like Kate?”

“What?”

“Having a King and his best friend both in love with you?”

"It's not as fun as you might think. They've both staked their claim on me in some way and I hate being the rope in their tug of war. The worst part is that Liam has already lost me and he doesn't know it yet."

“Poor guy, he’s going to be crushed. What does Drake have that Liam doesn't?”

“He doesn't have the weight of the kingdom sitting on his head and shoulders, nor does he have a bunch of noble ladies fighting over him. Plus he’s nobody important to the press or tabloids. I’m not as worried about being seen with him, because I know he’ll protect me.”

“He’s not worried about being pulled into the Tariq scandal with you?” Hana asks, a look of concern on her face.

Kate shrugs, “I know he doesn't regret coming to my rescue, except for maybe the punches Tariq landed on his ribs. He was very much a gentleman about the whole thing, which is a lot more than I can say for Tariq.”

“But speaking of having two guys interested at the same time, what about Neville and Rashad?”

Hana wrinkles up her nose with a frown of disgust, “They're so boring. And neither were very nice to Penelope when we first met them.”

Kate applies a pale pink lip gloss to the center of her bottom lip to enhance her lipstick, pressing her lips together and then checking the results in the mirror, “Well frankly, since finding out she participated in the smear campaign against me, Penelope isn't one of my favorite people either. But I get what you’re saying, especially with Neville. He creeps me out in the same way Tariq does. Rashad seems to be marginally better than his friend as far as character goes, having made his own way as a businessman. He’s not depending on his Father’s money like Neville.”

Hana tilts her head, considering Kate’s thoughts. “I suppose you make a good point. But still, neither are as important, charismatic, charming or handsome as the King.”

Kate smirks, “Liam's definitely a charmer. I wonder sometimes what he sees in an ordinary barmaid like me. Or what Drake does either.”  Kate meets Hana's gaze in the mirror. "Am I really worth all this fuss? What's so special about me that loving one man must mean breaking the other's heart?"

"You mean besides your charisma, charm, intelligence and beauty? You're a genuinely nice person Kate, and everyone is drawn to you. The other women in the room envy you when the men all look your way."

Kate turns around to look up at Hana, seeing the admiration in her eyes. "You're all of these things and more, Hana."

Hana looks down at her shoes, shyly,  "I wish. My parents have invested so much into my training, refinement and education. But they've rarely praised me for any of my achievements. Sometimes I feel like they'd throw me at any available bachelor if it would raise my status on the social ladder, especially if it got our names in the media back home."

Standing up from her seat, Kate places her hands on Hana's shoulders. "Hey now, don't beat up on yourself. You're more than just some guy's arm candy or potential wife. You need to stand up and grab the future you want for yourself. To Hell with your parents’ expectations. I bet you could excel at anything you put your mind to. You don't need a man to raise your status. Be the strong independent woman I know you can be.”

Hana smiles, “Thanks Kate. I wish I’d met you years ago. You're the type of friend I've been missing all my life.”

Kate smiles back, “You’ve been here for me too, so it's only right that I return the favor.”

Stepping back from Hana, Kate strikes a pose with one hand on her hip, raising the other in a provocative sweep of her hair to highlight her face and bare shoulders. “So what do you think of my finished look?”

Hana smiles broadly, with a clap of approval at her stylish handiwork. “You're going to be hotter than the tea, that’s for sure.”

Kate winks, “Damn straight. We are.”

Drake stands outside of Kate's train compartment, fidgeting. Dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and dark grey trousers, with his hair combed and set with some of Maxwell's styling compound; he felt like a teenager on Prom night. Drying his sweaty hand on his thigh, he's reminded of how thin the fabric feels compared to his usual denim. The way the slim fit of the pant legs hugged his thighs made him feel so exposed, almost naked, and he was starting to regret not opting for his usual jeans. But Maxwell had assured him that he looked good, and that he’d fit in just fine at the party.

He hoped he looked good enough to escort Kate. The sudden absurdity of wanting to dress up for a tea party makes him chuckle and he shakes his head. Damn it Kate, what have you done to me?

Sucking in a deep breath he knocks on Kate’s door and waits.

…

Crouching down to secure the gold strap of her shoe around her ankle, Kate hears the buzzing sound of a text message coming from inside her purse. She glances up, “I bet that’s Drake.”

Hana gets a pinging sound on her phone seconds later, “It's a group text from Liam. The cars arranged to take us to the tea party have arrived. We're to meet in the dining car to coordinate who is traveling with whom.”

Kate breathes a sigh, picking up her clutch. “Ok, off we go then.”

.

Drake is leaning against the wall looking at his phone when he hears the sound of voices to his right, causing him to look up. Kate and Hana are giggling as they approach hand in hand, and then they stop as Kate sees Drake and gasps. “Oh..my...God! Look at you.”

With a smirk, Drake straightens up blushing. “What..do I look that bad?”

Kate shakes her head, then appraises Drake all over again with a head tilt and a slow look from head to toe and then back up again. “Nah, ah. Hardly. You’re looking like a tasty snack.”

Drake clears his throat, raising his eyebrows. “Heh, look who's talking. If I’m a snack you're definitely dessert.”

Hana grins at them both, rolling her eyes, “Ok lovebirds, quit with the flirty food talk and making eyes at each other we’ve got a party to get to.”

Stepping aside, Drake nods. “But of course, after you Ladies.”

Taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes as Kate passes him in the hall, Drake falls into step a few paces behind them. Damn she smells nice, this party isn’t going to be torture at all.

:::

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[one-leaf-grimoire]

“illusion”

Chapter 13

Yo it's been a while! Sorry about that, I've been busy working on another fic (Triad, if you want to check it out). Anyway, here's the beginning of a fierce battle lol- things will not go as planned. I also forgot how to write fight scenes lol but that's okay bc the emotional moments here are nice. Anyway, enjoy!

WARNINGS: description of graphic injury. Also, I’ll be making an sfw version of this soon so stay tuned!

AO3 LINK (WARNING- THE WORK IS OVERALL SPICY MINORS DNI)

"There are injured civilians and Magic knights throughout the city! Some might be shipped out as POWs soon, but that's why we're here, to stop it! Our primary objective is to clear the area of innocents and the injured, then wait for reinforcements from the Silver Eagles to arrive and drive out the enemy. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!"

There's barely a second to waste, so Captain Hervey barks out his orders to us as we shoot towards the border town, finally coming into view. My heart is pounding, my hands gripping the wood of my broom handle so tight I'm surprised it hasn't cracked. Alice holds onto me as I drive, bent over a bit to avoid getting a face-full of my hair as the wind whips through it. All of us are here on brooms, except Julius, who went off ahead by himself to scout out the area. His absence just makes me more nervous. I hope he comes back soon- what if they were waiting for him, and he gets captured, or worse-

My thoughts are (thankfully) cut off as Hervey continues his spiel. "Once Julius gets back with info, I'll split you up into groups, then deploy you. Remember, try not to attack the enemy until all the civilians are out of the way."

I nod slowly to myself, my eyes still transfixed on the city. There's smoke rising, and I can hear magic blasts from afar. This morning, the vague order came directly from the Wizard King: "The border town of Lullin has been under siege from the Diamond Kingdom for three days. They have finally broken through the Crimson Lion Kings' defenses. Your squad will hold them off until the Silver Eagles arrive as backup."

And that was it. The strange thing is, none of us knew about this siege, even though it's been going on for three days! We land on the outskirts, out of sight from any of the forces inside. The town was walled, as are many border towns, and the fight is going on within the pit. Was it kept secret on purpose? Whatever was going on here, it was now our problem. The Grey Deer were used more as a diplomatic squad, escorting royalty, nobility, and foreign visitors. Most of the battling was done by the Silver Eagles and the Crimson Lions. But today must be desperate, because here we are, nervous as can be, getting ready to jump into our first real fight in a while. 

"Well, at least we get to kick some Diamond ass!" Nigel, of course, is rearing to go, even though I suspect this newfound confidence is just a way to cover up his own nerves. He does a few lunge stretches, which at least lightens the mood. "Giles, lets have a contest!"

Giles, who looks like a corpse right about now, nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of his name being called. "Huh? I don't think this is the time for a contest!" he objects.

"No, no, it'll be easy!" Nigel smirks and hits his hand into his palm. "Whoever takes out the most diamond guys wins!"

"Take out? Like, KILL?!"

"No! Like- take out-"

"You didn't think this through, did you?" Alice asks, her face not matching her teasing tone. "Don't bother keeping count... just..." Her gaze drifts, and it's obvious that her next words are meant only for Giles.

"Don't... get yourself killed because you're distracted. Just survive." Her smile reappears, just a whisper. "Alright?"

Giles stares at her for a long second, the sunlight shining on his glasses. You can see the understanding start to dawn on his face, and even he manages to smile back, a smile meant to quell her worries.

"Of course. Right back at ya, Alice."

Suddenly, there's a loud whoosh and a CRACK in our encampment. We whirl around to see Julius land there as powerfully and gracefully as usual. My lips part for a moment in a quiet sigh of relief. He's back! And unharmed!

"Julius, what's the situation?" Hervey demands, turning to walk over to his Vice Captain. "How many are there?"

Julius takes a moment to catch his breath before answering. "A lot..." He shakes his head. "Maybe a hundred Diamond mages. Plus their General."

There's a worried murmur among the squad at the mention of the General. Instead of captains, the Diamond Kingdom army was led by their "8 Shining Generals," who were rumored to be as fearsome as they come. If one of them was here, and had already defeated the Crimson Lions, how on earth are we supposed to make any headway?

"Dear God..." Hervey twists his goatee anxiously, his forehead creasing at least five times as he considers what to do. "Do you know which one?" He glances up in time to see Julius shake his head. "Well, we're going in blind... perhaps we should stick to the perimeter-"

"The Crimson Lions are being kept hostage in the center of town," Julius cuts in before his captain can finish. "The General is stationed in there I believe. As for the residents, they're being kept in their homes in several areas of town. I don't know what the enemy plans to do with them, but I think we should try and evacuate them before the Silver Eagles arrive." He glances around at the rest of us. "We'll split into four groups. Three will sweep the houses and evacuate civilians. Me, Captain Hervey, and a few of you will head for the center and cause a distraction." His gaze hardens for a moment as the orders are issued. "We should be able to accomplish this quickly. I don't want any civilians to get caught up in battle once the Silver Eagles are here."

We all nod silently in agreement. Hervey opens his mouth to say something, but even he can feel it; When Julius spoke, everyone's nerves were eased, if only for a moment. For a moment... it was like Julius was the Captain.

With that, Hervey splits us up into groups and tells us to prepare ourselves.  I get put into a group with Wren, Giles, and Martin, which I'm not thrilled about, but at this point I'm to jumpy to even care. Everyone is tense, their hearts pounding adrenaline through their bodies. Alice sits on a rock and taps her foot. Martin starts biting his nails. Malota and Hervey talk together quietly. Julius hasn't spoken- or looked at me for that matter- since we left the base. Now, he stands alone on the ridge overlooking the passage to town, his face turned away from me so I have no hope of reading it. But his shoulders are squared, his head held high, and his stance sure. Whatever lays ahead, he's ready and confident. My heart starts pounding for a different reason, but I shake my head to rid it of any intrusive thoughts.

I have to clear my head, to get ready for this... I have to focus more than anyone else here.

Using my Illusion magic is tricky enough, and even more so in the fray of battle. I have only seconds to read someone's face, cast my spell, and generate an image of something in their mind that will stop them from attacking me. Like with those bandits before, I'll probably go with injuries that will shock them. I squeeze my eyes shut taking in a deep breath.

Injuries... injuries...

It would be so much easier if I could see my own illusions, but by nature they only appear in the minds of my targets. I have to transmit that image as convincingly as possible if it's going to do anything. And in order to do that, I do... research. I have a box full of medical textbooks and trauma first aid manuals under my bed, which have some pretty realistic pictures inside. Every time I crack open a page, my stomach turns and I feel dizzy, but I force myself to look. 

It hurts that much just to study... I can't imagine how it must feel to see that injury appear on your body.

But now I have to do just that. I have to hurt people again.

Maybe it'll feel nice... I suck in another breath through my nose, squeezing and releasing my fist a few times.

I've been hurt a lot lately... maybe it'll feel nice to finally hurt someone else.

I imagine what it'll be like, when enemies are attacking and I have no choice but to use my power. I already know, that every single one of them will have Lawrence's face plastered on in my mind's eye.

Before I can think to hard about it, I hear someone crying. 

Blinking slowly, I remove myself from my trance and turn to see someone slumped behind a tree, their head hanging and their arms hugging themselves like they were the only real thing left in this world. "Um... are you okay?" I take a few cautious steps, walking into the treeline and realizing that it's none other than Cecelia who's crying.

As soon as she hears my voice, she looks up, her eyes already swollen and red. "Oh- uh- yeah-" She reaches up and starts to wipe her face frantically. "I-I just got really nervous for a second, I t-think I'll be fine now-" She lowers her hand and takes a deep breath. But, when she releases it, more tears burst out. With a whimper, she covers her face, her shoulders trembling.

She's scared. Well, we're all scared, but she lets it show on her face. Her eyes are overflowing with water and she bites her lip hard to keep it from twitching. 

She's... so scared...

"Cecelia..."

Without really thinking, I walk forward and pull her into a hug. Cecelia freezes up for a moment, her face planted right into the fluffy shoulder of my robe. I give her a squeeze.

She's only 15... and yet she has to go to war with the rest of us.

"I don't really remember my first battle. I was your age though," I start to say, not exactly sure where I'm going with this. Lately, I'm the one who had to be comforted, so being there for someone else isn't coming as naturally as I would like. But I have to do the best I can. "I bet you won't even remember this in a few months."

Slowly, Cecelia nods and lets her hands come up to hug me back, but her crying does not cease. "Are you s-sure?"

...no.

"Of course." I stroke her hair gently, my heart clenching more and more.

Oh god... if anything happens to her...

"Hey, what's going on here?"

We both look up to see Alice peek around the tree, her eyes widening when she spots Cecelia's tears. "oh! CC..." Instead of being paralyzed like I was, Alice immediately melts into a grin before stepping forward. "Give me your hand."

Hesitantly, Cecelia, lets go of me and lets Alice take her small hand. Alice bends down just a little to look the girl in the eye, her irises glinting with golden determination. "You're nervous, right?"

Cecelia nods.

"You can say it, it's okay."

"I...I-I'm scared..."

"That's perfectly alright. But listen-" Alice clasps her other hand over Cecelia's. "You're in my group, right? So I'll protect you! No matter what. And you're going to protect me too!"

Cecelia's breaths are still shaky, but somehow she manages to smile as well.

"I will..."

"Promise?" Alice sticks out her pinky finger, causing Cecelia to giggle. They lock fingers and shake once. 

"Promise!"

The somber air is gone now, replaced by something more hopeful. I let out a relieved sigh before turning to leave. I wish I was as good as Alice, I think sadly. She's so good at handling these types of delicate situations. She's always been my rock... Could Alice really be involved in my attacks? Was she really part of that plan?

... no. Of course not.

"Hey! You too!" I look back to see Alice and Cecelia looking at me. "Promise me you'll protect yourself, and everyone else in your team," Alice repeats.

"Well, maybe not Martin-" Cecelia pipes up, grinning as both Alice and I collapse into peels of laughter. "I'm kidding, guys!"

"Cecelia, never change-" I tell her through a giggle, reaching up to wipe my own eyes. "And yes... I'll protect everyone, I promise."

With that, there's only mere minutes before we have to set out. The fear in my veins is still there, but my new-found confidence beats it back into being silent. This is just like many fights and battles before. Maybe on a larger scale that I'm used to, but it's just another fight. A fight that I will probably forget within a few months. I leave Alice and Cecelia alone, stepping back out into the meadow. Once again, my eyes are drawn to Julius, still standing by himself on the ridge. Should I go say something? I gulp nervously, my heart fluttering a little. Part of me doesn't want to bother him, but at the same time, I wonder if I will regret passing up this one last chance.

"... hey."

Julius looks to his side as I finally walk up to him, my eyes fixed on the city in the distance. "Oh, hi. I was wondering if you were going to come keep me company."

I shoot a glance up at him to see him smiling, and my nerves melt away immediately. "Ah, I see... well, better late than never?"

"For sure." He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again to study my face. "Well... it's been an... eventful day, hasn't it?"

I gulp nervously, glad that we're facing away from the others because my face is definitely starting to heat up. "Um, yeah, I suppose it has-" I let out a breath of embarrassed laughter, the memories of earlier this morning flooding back. These past few days were crazy, and something tells me it's just going to get worse. "I'm sorry, I guess-"

"Sorry? For what?" Julius winks. "I enjoyed myself, you know." I raise an eyebrow, my heart pounding a little. Between last night and this morning, things between us have... escalated. And now, on the horizon of battle, there's nothing I'd like to do more than throw myself into his arms and hold him one last time. I'm sure he'll be fine, but I don't want to die without that...

But we can't. I feel eyes burning into our backs, watching us closely. Malota, I know, is watching. She and Alice alone know about me and Julius, and any wrong move could set off an explosion. 

"If anyone should be sorry, it's me." Julius finally speaks again, his eyes narrowing slightly as sadness pools within them. My breath catches in my throat at the look, and I almost want to start crying right then and there. "I... hope you don't feel like I'm taking advantage of your situation, because you're vulnerable. And I hope you know that I was serious about everything I said before, and-"

Suddenly, he's the one who seems desperate to confess something, even though he's been honest with me from the very start. I can't do anything but stare at him blankly, dumbfounded that he's apologizing, before blinking away my shock. 

"You're special to me."

And Julius... you have no idea how much I want to love you. 

My heart strains hard at the walls I put up around it, begging me to set it free and finally surrender it to someone on my own terms. But this isn't a good time... in fact, it's the worst time possible. So I keep it imprisoned just a little longer.

"Julius-"

He stops talking as I reach out. I want to touch him, to rub up his chest, to grab the collar of his shirt and shut him up with a big kiss. And from the look in his eyes, I know he wants the exact same thing. 

But I don't do that. I just let my hand land on his shoulder, like a good comrade would.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Honestly." I offer him a smile, one that I hope comforts me just as he does.

Slowly, Julius nods, then reaches out to grab my shoulder as well. We stand there, still, for a moment, but any longer and people would start to think. So I let go, and he does the same. "We need to go." Julius inhales deeply, the sadness gone from his eyes. "Be careful, alright? There's a lot I want to talk about when this is over."

"Oh?" I shoot him a wink as I step away. "And a lot you want to do with me, right?"

Julius's eyebrows pop up in surprise, but he can't suppress a grin, a slight tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks and nose. "Of course, of course. I still owe you a reward, don't I?"

I open my mouth in mock shock, even though that one comment is sending my heart reeling once again. Oh my god, I better survive today! I'm not sure what Julius has in mind for that "reward" but something tells me that it's going to be something I'll remember for a long, long time. 

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

As soon as we part, the world descends into a blur. Hervey is once again shouting orders, and everyone jumps onto their brooms, ready to go. In one swam, we lift off the ground, but then our groups break off to surround the city. "Hey! Loser!" I look over to see Alice grinning at me as she starts to zoom away. The wind muffles her words, but I can just make them out. "See you later!"

"You too!" I smile and give her one last wave before turning away.

Wren, Giles, and Martin fly behind me, silent but already with their grimoires out. I squint my eyes against the wind as I watch the center of the city like a hawk, where Julius and the others will be causing a distraction.

Any second now... come on-

It happens; the entire area grows cold, and a huge spike of ice rockets up out of the earth like some evil, jagged tower. "There! That's the captain's magic! Let's go!"

"Hell yeah!" Wren lets out a hoot as we start to spiral down to our assigned sector of the city.

"Hold on! Don't go so fast!" I yell over to him. "Someone's gonna see us, we need to give them time to get distracted-"

"So? We're here for a fight!" Wren smirks. "Anyway, it's not like you're in charge, I'm the oldest here."

"Maybe Giles should be in charge!" Martin pipes up. "He has glasses, right?"

"Martin, that's the dumbest thing you've ever said." I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing to God that I had been paired with Julius or Alice or anyone other than these two. "Fine, Wren, you lead us, but for the love of GOD, please don't do anything dumb."

Wren's ego is just growing by the minute, and he even does a fist bump in midair. I roll by eyes at him before looking back down at the city, and notice some soldiers running out of a large building and towards the center of town. "There!" I point out. "That's where-"

"Where the prisoners are being held!" Wren cuts me off rudely. "Martin, you head towards the closest wall and start making a hole in it. I doubt we'll have time to escort the civilians to the main gate. And you two-" he glances over at Giles and I. "We're going in hot, so get ready!"

"Aye aye!" Martin swoops away towards an abandoned section of the wall, his brown grimoire already flipping open. I don't have time to watch him activate his wood magic and land, because Wren, Giles and I start our dive. The wind whips around us, and the few Diamond guards still stationed at the building finally notice us. "Look out!" They start to open their Grimoires, but it's too late.

"Illusion Magic: Sudden Death."

There's seven of them, more than I expected, but the two that I don't manage to transmit the illusion to stand there shocked as their comrades suddenly start screaming and clutching at their stomachs. "Huh? What the hell? What's wrong?" 

"Feather Magic: Harpy's Fury!"

They look up just in time to see a barrage of sharpened feathers shoot down at them. The projectiles cut and stab, until the remaining enemies fall to the ground in an unconscious heap, just in time for the three of us to make our graceful landing.

"That was awesome! Did you see me take those guys down?! Did ya?!" Wren nudges one of the fallen with his boot, getting no reaction in return.

Giles puts his broom down and frowns curiously at the enemy through his spectacles. "What did you do to them?" he asks me. "I mean, what did you show them?"

I shrug. "Not much..." I gulp nervously, forcing myself to shut the images away in a compartment of my brain. "Intestines usually does it."

Giles winces a little, but shakes his head. "Well, you distracted them-"

"Come on! We're going to be slower than the other teams if you keep chit-chatting!" Wren yells, already halfway through the door. Giles and I exchange an exasperated look before running after him.

To our surprise, the first halls seem rather empty. If I had to guess, this is some sort of common area for the town. Which means that there's a large, central room, perfect for holding a large number of prisoners. There's probably more guards stationed around there-

Sure enough, we turn the corner and come across an opening. There's a large double door, barricaded shut, with three guards in front. They seem surprised to see us, but we don't give them time to act. Well, more specifically... Giles doesn't."

"Horn Magic: Mighty Ox!"

With a loud yell, Giles balls up his fists and punches forward with both at the same time. Right on cue, two sharp, massive horns form around them, spotless ivory shining in the lantern light. As he thrust forward, the horns broke free, rocketing towards the enemy. With a resounding bang, they went flying back, breaking through the door and skidding to a stop on the tile floor beyond. "There!"

"Damn, Giles-" I can't help but say, my mouth twisting into a smile. Giles, soft spoken, bookish Giles, was a beast! No wonder Alice liked him so much. 

Giles brushes off his sleeves before giving me an uncharacteristically confident smile. "Surprised? You've seen this magic many times."

"Yeah? And it still blows me away every time."

"GUYS?" Wren suddenly wines. "Come on, we have a shit ton of people to save."

I don't answer, just sticking my tongue out at him briefly before running to enter the great hall. Just as we thought, it's packed to the brim with people, frightened civilians who are huddled together on blankets and flimsy looking cots. "Y-You're Magic Knights!" one of them exclaims, tears edging her eyes as she realizes that they are saved. 

"Yeah, yeah, we're the Grey Deer." Wren crosses his arms as he "kindly" addresses the crowd. "Everyone, get up and get moving! We've prepared an escape route to get you all out of here before the Silver Eagles get here to kick these guys' asses!"

There's a flurry of movement as people jump up, grabbing their meager belongings and scrambling to get ready. Wren gives us a worried look, his eyes narrowing slightly. I know what he's thinking: this is going a little too smoothly. Let's get out of here. "Giles-" Wren turns to address him. "Make a hole in that wall over there. It's quicker than walking all the way back through the building."

Giles nods, bringing out his grimoire once again. "Right!" He directs his attention to the wall, his back to us. "Horn Magic-"

Midsentence, I see it appear on his back. A ball of energy shoots between Wren and I to hit him, and on impact I see his body freeze in place.

My eyes widen, not quite taking in the sight, not before it's too late.

"GILES-"

"AAAAAAH-"

Giles's body crunches up, a quickly growing spot of green foam spreading over his back. His shirt dissolves along with it, and I see that his skin has been burnt an angry red color. With one last agonized cry, Giles stumbles and falls to his knees, shaking with pain.

What?! Wren and I finally react, spinning around to see a group of ten mages coming into the room behind us. One of them, the man in front, wears a fluffy black coat, his hair slicked back over his head, and a wide, cruel smile on his face. Three stones are embedded in his head, one on each cheek and another above his lip. His grimoire is an acid green color, matching the magic that hit Giles, and floats open in front of him. Wren and I stay frozen in place, our heart pounding as if we were in the sights of an apex predator.

Because... that's exactly what this man is.

Almost in slow motion, he speaks.

"Slime Mold Magic... release."

A shuddering breath is ripped from Giles's throat as the magic leaves his body, returning to this man's Grimoire. I glance back to see him sit up, still pale and shaky. Shit! Who is this guy?! I turn back to look at this new enemy. He's strong, I can tell... oh god... 

"You three... Magic Knights. I can tell that you're young." The mage licks his lips. "And full of potential. We value that in the Diamond Kingdom. It's not something I should waste." The way the words leave his lips is akin to a hiss from a snake. "So, I'll give you one chance... leave now, and I won't harm you."

"No way!" Wren immediately answers, his hand on his Grimoire. His eyes hold none of their usual mirth; only shrewd observation as he takes in his options. I nod slowly along with him, still formulating a plan of my own. "We came here to save these people, and that's exactly what we'll do."

The mage laughs, the cruel sound echoing through the hall. A few of the frightened civilians behind us are whimpering in fear. "Foolish children... do you really want to feel the wrath of one of the Shining Generals?"

"H-Huh?" The threat takes me by surprise and I can't help but let the gasping word leave my lips. "But..." I glance at Wren, who has gone pale as well. "Wasn't the General supposed to be in the center of town?"

"Silly girl." The Mage laughs again, louder this time, his Grimoire already flipping to a new page.

"Did you think we'd only send one?"

ooooooooooooh noooooo MC has to fight a shining general now... with two questionable comrades lol. How will this turn out? Find out whenever I decide to update again lol!

[ink-and-flame]

Kinktober Day 2: Before the Fall [WARCRAFT M/M]

Kinktober Day 2 Prompts: Tickling ~ Spanking ~ Chastity belts Fandom: Warcraft Tags: Exophilia, m/m,  tickling, spanking, chastity device, dom/sub themes Pairing: Go’el (Thrall)/Anduin, Thrall/Jaina (mentioned)

[Author’s note: I kind of struggled with this. I couldn’t really think of a good idea, all day I stressed over what to write. Then my addled brain was like “but what if something that would get you legit straight up murdered” and unfortunately my friends encouraged this. So now here we are. I am not sorry, I am never sorry. Also the switching of names from Go’el to Thrall was on purpose. Also I haven’t slept yet so it is still technically day 2]

Everything changed when Varok had shown up and dragged him back into a war he wanted no part of. The elements had abandoned him, his relationship with his family was strained on the best of days. Perhaps he was taking too much to heart, but Go’el had not wanted any of this. How had it all come to this, how had everything gone so wrong. The only commonality was himself, and that required some inner reflection he wasn’t quite ready for. 

Now he was working alongside the Alliance again, alongside Jaina. There was a name he never thought would cross his lips again. They had parted badly some time ago and the flame he had felt for her had all but died out. Yet here, in this handful of moments, there was a small rekindling of that flame that he had a hard time ignoring, and it did not go completely unnoticed. 

As time passed it became easier for the shaman to push thoughts of his family aside, he was needed again. No the elements were not there to aid him, but he was still strong, he could still fight. Yet that temptation remained. No matter how hard he tried to shake it his gaze lingered on the human. She was so different, so much more powerful, so incredibly beautiful. She took his breath away like no one ever had. Still, there was a bitterness and almost sour taste when he thought of her that way. Perhaps their past was just that, the past. 

Go’el had set up his tent further away from the others, once they had found a place to settle after rescuing Baine. He needed some privacy and space to think. He had never wanted to come back, especially under circumstances such as these, but here he was, playing the hero again. Would they ask him to take on the mantle of Warchief again? Could they even defeat Sylvanas? Too many questions, so much that would never be answered. 

“So I guess the rumors are true.”

Go’el turned around towards the voice that had spoken. It was Anduin, and he had the most bemused smile on his face. Though still in his youth, the boy had grown and was becoming the kind of person that Varian would be proud of. The statement confused Go’el though.

“Rumors? Oh, about the elements.” A deep sigh escaped him as he looked away. “Yes, they are true.”

“Not those rumors, the ones about you and Jaina.”

Go’el whipped around and looked at Anduin with clear shock on his face. His bright sky blue eyes wide as his mouth hung open slightly. Seriously? Those rumors were still going around. Even now. It was almost too much and the orc had to shake off the shock before he looked away with a grumble. “No. They are not.”

“From where I stand, they seem pretty true to me Thrall. Have you spent any time with her yet?” Anduin moved to sit next to the large orc a small smile on his lips, somewhat enjoying the former shaman’s discomfort.  “Oh, sorry I forgot, Go’el I mean.”

“It’s quite alright. I, strangely, don’t mind hearing that name again. It was my name for so long, even I slip up now and then.” Thrall glanced at the human that had joined him now. Curious why the young king was even here. “You are not standing, and they are not true.”

“You know what I mean.” Anduin ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure it is alright? The name thing. I understand that you have a difficult past.”

“Yes, I am sure. I made that name my own long ago.” He huffed a strange airy laugh. “The way I see it, we all have difficult pasts.” Glancing down a bit he took in the king. “So, what brings you here besides rumors. I find it hard to believe that gossip is what drives you boy.”

Anduin frowned, he hated being called boy. Saurfang did it too and it kind of drove him a little bit up the wall. “I was already here. The planning has been started. I was surprised you weren’t there, but we are still waiting for allies to arrive.” he leaned back taking on a more relaxed pose. “That isn’t why I am here, I really am curious. How long before you think she notices?”

A brow raised up as Thrall regarded the young human. “What are you talking about?”

“I see the way you look at her, I just added that with the rumors I heard floating around, and realized they were true.” Smiling he looked up at Thrall. “How does that even work? She is so much smaller than you?”

This was too much. He wondered if the boy was sick or drunk. This was not the kind of questioning that was proper, ever, and he certainly had never been spoken to like this before. Especially from the current leader of the Alliance. Thrall sputtered a bit. “Are you well Anduin?”

Grey, stormy blue eyes met Thrall’s “Why do you ask?”

“Because this is the most unusual conversation I think I have ever had.”  The orc looked the human over curiously. “So, are you well? Do I need to get one of your aides?”

Anduin sighed and rubbed his face.  “Thrall. You know what it is like. Better than anyone here. The pressures of leadership. Always having to be a certain way, the constant judging? I thought you would understand. Do you have any idea when the last time I had an actual conversation was? Because I certainly don’t!”

Thrall’s face softened, a smile curving his lips around his thick tusks. “Ah, I see. Yes I understand. I don’t mind being casual with you, if you are certain you are ok with it. I understand that, I have made some choices and done some things that have made me less than popular.”

“I don’t mind. I still respect you. I grew up hearing stories about you. Some of them I have a hard time believing. Then there were the whispers. I was always curious. I could never quite do the math, or see how it was possible. Especially with the contempt Jaina had for the Horde for a long time there. But in these last few days, or weeks, light I don’t even know what day it is anymore.” Rubbing his face and resting his chin on his hand Anduin continued. “I have seen how you watch her, stare at her, the way your posture changes, and now I think I believe. I don’t understand, but I believe.”

“There isn’t anything to understand. I think you have this whole situation mistaken.”

“You can be honest with me Thrall. Who am I going to tell, really? Who would even listen to me? Or believe me? I just. How does it work? How do you even fit?” Anduin looked up at the large muscular orc, his cheeks slightly flushed, realizing what he had just asked. 

“I didn’t.” The answer was short and to the point.

“Is that why she is mad? Because you hurt her?”

Rubbing his face and pinching the bridge of his nose, Thrall let out a world weary sigh. “No. I mean, it never happened. Nothing ever happened between us.” Looking over at Anduin, it was clear the boy didn’t believe him. “I swear on my father’s spirit. It never went there.”

Anduin blinked. “Oh…”

“There was a time that I wanted it to.”

“Oh?”

A deep chuckle rumbled out of Thrall, echoing out from his chest. “She is beautiful, even you can see that. It was just, never meant to be. I don’t know if I waited too long, or if the feelings were not returned, but, it never happened. I thought about it, dreamed about it, I was ready to throw the rules in the faces of my advisors over it, but I didn’t and now I never will.”

“You still could. I mean, she seems to have eased up on her hatred. She is much calmer, more balanced now. Her grief isn’t so raw. I am sure that she feels the same for you. I can’t imagine why she wouldn't”

“It is an interesting sentiment, but I can list all the reasons why she wouldnt, but I won’t because we will be here all night.” Thrall frowned looking down at his hands, then he turned to Anduin curious. “What do you mean you can’t imagine why she wouldn’t?”

“Oh, uh, well, you see. Nevermind. I guess I am just one of those hopeless romantics right?” He was clearly nervous, running a hand through his blond hair and looking away.

“That is a lie, and lies are not becoming for a king.”

“I just.” Anduin sighed. “I can just see why someone would want to be with you. That is all.”

Thrall studied Anduin for a few long moments. Watching as the human began to squirm under his long silent gaze. The shaman had perfected his patience and could wait out just about anyone. He shouldn’t have enjoyed Anduin’s increasing discomfort, but he did. Thrall wasn’t a cruel person, but there was something a little endearing about the human king and he was having a little bit of fun at the boys expense. 

When the silence had dragged on long enough that he could see Anduin about to speak, Thrall had to ask. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I am not sure I understand the question.”Stalling, he was clearly stalling.

“How can you see why someone would want me? I am a failed leader, the elements have abandoned me, I seem to make questionably awful decisions. What about any of that is desirable?” Perhaps he just wanted the ego stroke, but the orc was genuinely curious.

“We all make bad choices sometimes, and maybe right now you aren’t meant to be a shaman. You are still strong, honorable, powerful, intelligent, han...” Anduin realized he had lost himself for a minute there. “Handy to have around…” That was the worst save and he really hoped Thrall didn’t notice. 

“You flatter me, I do not see how I am handy though.” It was clear the boy was going to say something else,and there was really only one word that would fit. Did the human actually look at him, and orc, and see something attractive? That was strange. Orcs were monstrous, ugly, to humans. Yet Thrall was almost positive Anduin was going to call him handsome. 

That only made more questions pop into his head. Was the young king attracted to him, or did he just find orcs aesthetically pleasing in general. It was strange, but not entirely unheard of. People were attracted to many things, it was possible that Anduin just found orcs to be interesting to look at. 

“Oh, well, I mean, you are pretty handy to have around.” He felt sheepish, looking at Thrall, knowing that the orc was suspicious. “Maybe I should go.” Anduin began to stand up, but was stopped by a large hand grasping his arm. 

“Did you ask because you were curious? Or because you were hopeful?” 

Anduin sputtered at Thrall’s question and looked down at the hand that almost covered his entire forearm, and sputtered even more. “I. what do you even mean by that.”

“What were you really going to say Anduin?”

Sitting back down with a heavy sigh. “Handsome. I was going to say handsome.” He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I know it is weird. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“It isn’t weird. Well it is, but it isn’t. Some humans do find orcs attractive. Most find us ugly and monstrous, but everyone likes what they like and there is nothing wrong with it.”

“No. I meant. Coming from me. It was weird.”

Thrall looked confused. “Why would it be weird coming from you? Oh, because you are the leader of the Alliance, and I am a disgraced former leader of the Horde?”

“You aren’t disgraced, stop that.” The human huffed. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“We are both male?” Anduin’s voice was a little higher and he sounded a bit uncertain.

“Why should that matter?” Thrall tilted his head releasing Anduin’s arm as he realized he was still holding onto the boy.

“Because, we, wait seriously? It isn’t a problem?”

“Why should it be. Male orcs often have partners in their youth that are also male. It mostly depends on how balanced the training groups are. Sometimes after battle an orc can often become intensely aroused. You aren’t as picky when that kind of arousal hits you. Do human males not share pleasure?” This was a curiosity. As a slave Thrall had seen many things, and he was certain he had seen males pleasuring males before. 

“They do, but it is frowned upon I guess. Especially for someone like me. I mean I’m the king. It is expected that I will take a wife and produce an heir.” Anduin shrugged. “Not that I haven’t thought about that. I do find women attractive. I just, also sometimes find men attractive too.” There was a scared uncertainty in his voice.

“Do you find me attractive Anduin?” Thrall had turned to face Anduin fulling, his voice deepening as he spoke. Nostrils flaring a bit to scent the air. 

“I..” It was hard to breathe all of a sudden and Anduin found himself feeling intense and conflicting emotions. 

“No one here but us, I am just curious.” Thrall’s voice softened and he leaned back. He was intimidating the boy.

“Yes?”

“That doesn’t sound certain. Are you sure.”

“Yes. Thrall, I do find you attractive. I am sorry.”

“Why? Do you not want to find me attractive?” Humans were strange, even after most of his life being spent around them, Thrall found them to be complex and a little annoying.

“It isn’t that. It is just. It seems wrong. You have a wife, a family, and I am pretty sure that you see me as a child the way everyone else does.”

“I see you as young, and my having a mate doesn’t mean that you cannot find me attractive. Or that I can’t look upon others with interest. If the temptation becomes too difficult to ignore, I have ways around it.” Thrall admitted, though realized what the next question would be and he somewhat feared it.

“Um, what do you mean?” Anduin was curious. Did shamans have a way of banishing their lust, their desire, their attraction?

“That is, well a bit personal. I feel it would fall in the realm of ‘too much information’ and you would most likely regret asking once you had the answer.” Thrall laughed and shifted his position slightly.

“Well I am just more curious. So now you have to tell me.” Anduin found that he enjoyed this. It was almost like teasing, but not quite. 

“We are a bit too out in the open for me to be removing my lower coverings boy.” There was an edge to Thrall’s voice, but it wasn’t anger.

Sighing loudly. “Enough with the boy. I am a grown man, I run a kingdom, several, can we stop with that. I let Saurfang do it because he is ancient and everyone is a boy to him.”

The laugh that interrupted Anduin was loud and deep. There was clear and genuine mirth in Thrall’s eyes as he laughed and shook his head. “Don’t let him hear you put it that way.”

The interruption startled Anduin, and distracted him, but not for long. Eventually what Thrall said registered and he looked at the orc curiously. “What do you mean lower coverings? Your pants?”

“Yes, my pants, I won’t be taking them off. So you will just have to use your imagination for what I meant.” It was obvious that his words would only make the boy more curious. 

Which of course it did and Anduin only scooted closer. “Ok, now you absolutely have to tell me because I am not sure how that makes sense.”

“Not here. It would be inappropriate if anyone were to see. I am sure we would never be able to explain the situation. While orcs have no issues with nudity, humans do.” 

“No one is around Thrall. Just look around?” He knew that it would be hard to get away. He lead the Alliance. Rarely was he ever allowed to go anywhere alone. He couldn’t exactly waltz into a Horde city, nor could he easily sneak Thrall into his home. Right now they had their tents and that was about as much privacy as anyone was going to get.

Thrall did indeed glance around and saw that they were pretty far off from everyone else and no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Still it was a strange request and he felt suddenly shy about it. Not about nudity, but what Anduin would see. His green skin darkened a bit and he cleared his throat. 

“It still isn’t appropriate.”

“Are you shy Thrall? Would it help if I showed you mine?” Anduin was teasing, but it was because he had never seen and orc blush before and he was pretty certain that was what Thrall was doing.

Huffing a bit of a growl, the orc glared a bit at Anduin. “I am not amused, but I suppose you aren’t going to let this go and I would rather not drag it out.”

Shifting his belt Thrall loosened his pants as if he were going to relieve himself. It took some tugging to get his loincloth out of the way as he pulled the fabric and fur aside to show Anduin just how he helped to control himself. A large cage looking device was settled against his crotch, his thick green cock held soft and safe within. It looked like a small lock was near the top, but the device was a little hard to see with all of the leather and fur in the way. Covering himself Thrall grunted and glanced at Anduin. 

To his credit, the human managed to stay silent. Though a rather undignified sound almost escaped him at the sight of Thrall’s very large, and strangely caged cock. That was new, something Anduin had never seen before. He wasn’t sure what the purpose was. If it was Locked, there was bound to be a key. Unless Thrall didn’t have it, but that just raised more questions. He looked up at the orc, questions dying in his throat. There was something in Thrall’s eyes that gave Anduin pause and he swallowed back what he wanted to say.

“Your turn human.” It was a joke really, just teasing, anything to lighten the mood.

Thrall was surprised when Anduin began to unlatch his armor, removing the coverings at his lower half. Opening his breeches. He had even more cover to deal with and took a few moments to release himself from the confines of his small clothes. There were two things that stood out to Thrall about Anduin’s cock. One, was that it seemed decently sized in proportion to the rest of the boy, and two, he was erect. 

“It, well it isn’t as impressive as yours, but it works well enough when I have cause to use it.” Anduin was embarrassed, and aroused, intensely aroused. He had never seen anything so large, and so incredibly male, and yet also so very strange. 

“Do you have cause often? I imagine as king you are quite popular with the ladies of your kingdom.” Thrall was trying to lighten the mood a bit and not address the very obvious arousal the king had. 

“That um, no, no I have never. I mean not never.. Well.. ok never.” Anduin sighed and put his face in his hands, forgetting his dick was out and standing proud. He had just admitted, to Thrall, that he was still a virgin. 

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about Anduin. You are young, and you are king. I can imagine that you have very little time for relationships and that your aides may be a little over protective. I can’t imagine trying to attract a female’s attention when you are constantly surrounded. You have no reason to feel any shame, I worried that I made you uncomfortable.”

Anduin turned and tilted his head at Thrall. “I am not uncomfortable, and um, thanks. So.. how does that work?” He gestured to Thrall’s crotch, and realized too late how that could be taken.

“I suppose it works similar to yours. I become aroused, it becomes erect, and stimulation brings me to release.” Thrall knew what Anduin meant, but he couldn’t stop himself from poking just a little fun. 

It was interesting, how different from his own laugh Anduin’s was. It was lighter, more musical, charming really. Thrall found that the sound of the boy laughing warmed him. It was a good sight to see. All things aside, the war, the factions, Thrall had never wished ill on the boy, not even when his father, Varian, had been a thorn in his side. The orc was smiling now, a gentle kind smile. 

“Ok, I suppose I deserved that a little bit. I meant the um, cage? Is it a cage?” Curiosity got the better of him but Anduin finally tucked himself away once he realized he was still exposed. 

“That is a good name for it. It slips on, only when I am soft of course, and then locks into place. As for the key. I hide it from myself, but if there is an emergency I can break out of it. Honestly it isn’t hard to, but it helps ground me. Lets me deal with temptation. It is almost impossible to become erect with it on. Saved my dignity a few times.” Thralls cheeks darkened a bit. “I also just enjoy wearing it, though I couldn’t begin to tell you why.”

“Does it feel good? To wear it I mean?”

“Actually, it is uncomfortable, so no. Yet it also kind of does. It might be a mental thing. I am honestly not sure.” Thrall shrugged and found the blush on the boy’s face endearing. 

“You can have one made for yourself, though I have no idea how you would manage to hide that you are wearing it. Humans have some interesting clothing choices.”

Anduin shook his head as he snorted a bit of a laugh. “Don’t tempt me.”

“If I was trying to temp you, you’d know.” Thrall leaned in, his voice deeper as he winked at the human king.

It worked. Anduin was flushed and flustered. He could feel his erection spring back to life and Thrall had barely done anything. In a panic he looked around for anything to change the subject, but his eyes were drawn to Thrall’s chest. There was a surprising amount of hair there, and Anduin was tempted to touch. What did orcish skin even feel like? “Are orcs ticklish?”

“Are we what? Ticklish?” It was a strange change of subject and Thrall had to actually think about that. “I mean, our children are. I can’t say I have ever seen anyone try and tickle a grown orc though.” Thrall tilted his head, wracking his brain for any evidence that he had ever seen someone tickle an orc. He missed Anduin leaning in and barked a laugh when fingertips softly grazed his side. 

“I guess so.”

“You caught me off guard. I don’t think that counts as tickling.” Thrall could still feel the ghost of the touch on his skin. He had expected Anduin to drop it, not double down and dig his fingers a little harder into Thrall’s side. This time the laugh was completely involuntary and it turned out that yes, adult orcs could be ticklish. At least he was. 

Anduin was grinning and leaning in when he realized that he was able to make Thrall laugh and squirm. He moved closer, making sure not to push too hard, he didn’t want to cause pain. The orc’s laughter was loud and warm. Anduin loved the sound of it. 

Scooting away Thrall tried to ease the pressure on his side, it put the tent between himself and the view of anyone behind them. “You keep that up boy and I am going to take you across my lap and spank you!” It was an empty threat. Thrall would never lay a hand on the king of Stormwind. He was pretty sure he would be executed if he did. 

Not giving up Anduin moved closer to Thrall, continuing to try and tickle the orc that had moved out of his range temporarily. “Who says you won’t be the one getting spanked after this. After all, you are the one who is ticklish.”

Now there was a thought. Being spanked. Something Thrall had never really experienced himself. Yes, he had experienced beatings, but that wasn’t the same as spanking. At least not in the context that was being used here. He almost wanted to see Anduin try. “If you can actually manage to get me into any kind of position where you would have access. I will let you, just because I think it is funny. That and I know you wont.”

There was nothing Anduin loved more, than being told he could not do something for whatever reason the person contrived, and then doing that exact thing just to prove he could.  “Are you sure you want to challenge me old man?”

“Who are you calling old boy! I would like to see you even try to flip me. Which you wont because someone will see us. So even in the unlikely event that you could, you still can’t, because you wont risk it.” Thrall’s confidence sometimes got the better of him, and he missed the look that flashed in Anduin’s steel blue eyes. 

“You are old, at least compared to me.” Anduin pointed out as he looked over the situation. No one had paid attention to them for a while. Apparently the king of Stormwind chatting with the former Warchief of the Horde was not seen as strange. Thrall’s tent flap was open, and the entrance was wide. Hoping that Thrall was caught enough by surprise to not put up too much fight. Anduin surged forward pushing the orc through the entrance of the tent and wrestling him to the ground. 

The orc was heavy, far heavier than Anduin had expected and it was only due to the sudden action on his part that he managed to get Thrall mostly on his chest. It wasn’t technically a fully prone position, but it should be close enough to count, at least he hoped. The idea of actually having a chance to spank Thrall, of all people, was one Anduin could not pass up. 

Thrall sputtered, thrown off balance, and clearly shocked by what just happened. It had happened so quickly, and the strength of the young human was more of a surprise than what he had expected. Clearly, the lithe human was stronger than he physically appeared. While he wasn’t completely prone, Thrall had enough of his chest on the ground that if he was generous, he could concede. 

“Do you yield orc.” Anduin had not meant for it to sound harsh. He regretted it the moment it was out of his mouth.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you boy?” Thrall chuckled when he felt Anduin loosen his grip.

“I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s alright. You have seen enough war, it happens. I know you did not mean it the way it sounded.” Thrall moved further into his tent, waving Anduin inside. “I suppose you expect I should concede to your victory now?”

“Well, I didn’t get you fully prone.” 

“Not this time, maybe next time. Still, you did well enough I suppose I could allow it.” Thrall hated to admit, but he was a little bit excited by the prospect.

Anduin was surprised. Thrall was going to allow it. Was he joking, humoring him, it was strange to think someone as strong as Thrall would let something like this happen, to be even a little submissive, and yet he was offering. 

Moving to the back of the tent Thrall stripped off his belt, boots, and pants. Leaving just his loincloth on he sat down on his furs and waved the boy over. “This is how I prefer to sleep if I can. I can strip the rest of the way, but if someone investigates it would be easier to diffuse the situation if I am not naked.”

Anduin was hoping to see more of Thrall’s body, but he would accept this. “Will you feel it through the leather of your clothing?”

Well that was a thought. What if he couldn’t. His loincloth was thick and heavy. Designed that way on purpose to protect his more delicate area. “You make an excellent point, yet again.” Shrugging it off, Thrall was left naked before the king of Stormwind. Or mostly so, the cage on his cock probably should not count. 

It was almost impossible not to stare. Thrall cut a rugged figure and Anduin felt his arousal spike. He wanted to touch the orc everywhere. The cage was a curious contraption and it was tempting to reach out and touch it, but this was not what he was given permission to do. Anduin was nervous. He had never spanked anyone before, and now there was a big, powerful, and quite attractive orc, expecting a spanking.

Swallowing and scooting a bit closer Anduin removed some of his armor, wanting to be a bit more relaxed and have more freedom of movement. He kept his leathers on, not certain that stripping naked was something that Thrall would be ok with. “So, my lap then?”

Thrall looked almost scandalized at the thought, which caused them both to laugh. He had just assumed he would bend over and get smacked once, and call it good. This was beginning to sound far more intimate than intended. 

Clearing his throat Thrall moved closer to Anduin and awkwardly assumed the position, half laying across the boy’s lap. “I am probably too heavy for this.”

“You are heavy, but not more than I can handle. At least for a bit. I doubt you are going to tolerate more than a few strikes.”

“I can handle it.”

“That isn’t really what I meant.” Anduin raised his hand and brought it down sharply onto Thralls surprisingly shapely, and deceptively firm ass cheek. He was pretty sure his hand hurt more than anything he did to Thrall, but the noise the orc made shot straight to his cock and Anduin could not resist striking again. 

Thrall had not expected to enjoy it. While it was more of a gentle love tap, it was still pleasurable, and that was a strange thing to think. The cage was feeling tight and he had to fight the urge to squirm as Anduin brought his hand down a few more times. Each time, the strike was a little harder and felt a little better to Thrall. After a particularly sharp slap, Thrall realized he had moaned out loud and he could feel Anduin’s erection pressing against him. It was time to end this before things went too far. 

Anduin was panting, his arousal making him sweat a little as he continued to strike Thrall’s shapely ass. He wanted more, wanted to touch the former Warchief intimately. He wanted to rip off that cage and see just how big Thrall’s orcish cock really was. It was intoxicating, the feeling of power and he didn;t want to stop, but he could feel the shifting in his lap and realized that maybe things went too far. 

“I am going to move now. Ok?” Thrall sat up and kept his gaze off of Anduin’s lap. He pulled on his loincloth, needing to cover the evidence of his own arousal.

While the cage prevented him from being able to become erect. It did not stop his cock from drooling. It seemed he produced even more when he was caged and he was about to leak all over Anduin. Something he was sure he would never be able to explain. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

“No, Anduin, you did not. I just felt that, perhaps, things had gone far enough. We could still be interrupted at any moment, and I didn’t want to harm you unintentionally. I am strong and sometimes I don’t always control that strength as well as I should.”

The king nodded and smiled softly at Thrall. “Thank you… for.. Allowing me this. I felt like a real person for a moment.”

Thrall looked shocked and pulled Anduin close before he could stop himself.  “You are a real person, and you deserve everything.” The kiss surprised them both, and was cut short when Thrall pulled back realizing what he had done. “I.. apologize.”

“Don’t.” Anduin reached up, touching a thick tusk. “If you hadn’t. I would have.”