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thearmyprof · 2 years ago

Text

Hubba Bubba

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Word count: 6,450

Genre: Fluff, Non-idol!AU, One-Shot

Warnings: No major warnings, language, soft smut, see full tags below for more details

Summary: Your coworkers insist on meeting at Club Hubba Bubba for a social outing. The night starts out miserable with clique-ish colleagues and a outing that is very not your scene. However, everything takes a turn when you run into a stranger named Yoongi, who proceeds to sweep you off your feet.

TLDR; very soft one-shot with some steaminess.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45192469

This work is also part of the Sound of Music bingo on tumblr for the squares: Butter & Min Yoongi

Tags: Light Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Sexual Content, soft smut, Bullying, Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, mentions of panic attack, a lot of laughter, Giggling, soft, so soft

As you stand in the brisk night air of February, you think about all your life choices that led up to this moment. You watch as one of your coworkers giggles cutely behind her hand and then immediately shifts your eyes away when she side-eyes you. They are all laughing at you, at your expense, you realize. Maybe it hadn’t been a silly mistake after all. Maybe this had been intentional.

You look down at your jeans, torn generously at the knees, your black combat boots, and your iconic Nirvana tee underneath an oversize purple plaid button up, hanging loosely, unbuttoned, off your shoulders. You knew there had been a fuck up somewhere when you approached your group of coworkers at the club line and they were all in neon colored spandex. Their hair was poofy and frizzed out. You had even double-checked the group chat: “meet at Club Hubba Bubba at 8! 90s fashion night, don’t come without a costume!” Judging from the entire line of people waiting to enter the club, everyone had gotten the “1980s”—not 1990s—memo, except you.

Now that you’ve worked out that it wasn’t a mistake, you realize they must have a separate group chat even—without you—where a clarification of the decade took place. It’s too late to bail though, as the doorman looks you up and down.

“It’s a 30 dollar cover,” is all he says, his lips making a thin, displeased line across his face.

Your colleagues busily all push forward to pay with their phones, as you get yours out of your purse. You briefly think that 30 dollars feels like a steep price to pay for this utter humiliation, but running away now might be even more humiliating.

The inside of the club is dark, save for the strobing lights on the dance floor. Your group makes their way to a u-shaped table along one side of the room. You drag your feet following them so that you can be on the edge of the u, for a quicker escape if need be. However, your colleagues seem to be aware of your game, calling you out immediately and shoving you in between several of them.

They order a round of drinks and sit back to chat about work. You half listen, half zone out. You imagine what you could be doing right now—including, but not limited to, taking a bubble bath with that pretty bath bomb you bought on impulse last week, listening to music from literally any other decade than the 80s, and certainly not thinking about work outside of working hours.

“Oh, but did you hear that Bradley had a meeting with HR last week?” one of your colleagues says. You squint at her pretty face, trying desperately to remember her name.

If you’re honest, you don’t really make an effort with your coworkers socially-speaking. They are loud, clique-ish, and bubbly. You are none of those things. You prefer reading or a nice long walk along the river. At the beginning, you chalked the vague bullying as a kind of hazing ritual for being the new person. But, nine months at this position and nothing much has changed. You have been type-cast as the weird loner and now that’s who you are.

Still, company-encouraged social outings seem to be extremely important for some reason. The first time you tried to bow out, you had a manager having a “talk” with you the next day about not being a team player. So, here you sit, squashed between two loud, twittering social butterflies, pretending to nurse a shot of some kind of clear alcohol.

“Bradley is not gonna be around long, just watch,” another person adds to the conversation. You rack your brain for a “Bradley” and get nothing.

“Well, good riddance, he’s gross,” someone else chimes in.

A chorus of giggles erupts with someone shouting, “You can’t just say that.”

You have no idea what’s going on. You feel yourself sink lower on the cushion of the bench. Would they notice if you just kept sliding right down under the table?

You watch the dancers out on the dance floor. There’s a group of men dancing like it’s their livelihood. You feel kind of mesmerized with their fluid rolls and sharp hip thrusts. The bass booms, vibrating the floor underneath you, adding to the otherworldly feel of the moment. As you watch, you feel your cheeks heat and the close press of the women on either side of you suddenly feels that much more claustrophobic.

“Aw, look at our Miss Wrong Decade, see something you like?” shouts one of your coworkers. The giggles and shrieks erupt all around you.

You stare at the table and will yourself to just vanish into thin air. Suddenly everyone is moving.

“Come on, you should dance with them!” the person next to you is shrieking at you and yanking you by the arm.

“Bet the hot guys would give her a pity dance!” someone else yells.

You feel yourself slide along the bench and are pulled up by your arm. Most of the group has already left for the dance floor and your feet feel like they’ve been made of lead.

“I- I’m not interested in dancing,” you stutter out.

Despite your protests, they pull you into the throng of dancers. Soon, there are bodies all around you, bumping and rubbing up against you in ways that make your blush more furious. It’s very public and you can hear the teasing giggles of your coworkers echoing in your head. You hate this.

You wiggle and slide through the crowd, pulling yourself free from your colleague’s arm and step backwards toward the table again. You keep your eyes down on the floor, avoiding the scathing looks of your coworkers.

You hear their faint protests and mocking your being a wall-flower. Your back bumps into something hard, which you assume is the table. So, you step to your right until you can feel the bench of the “u” behind you and you sit down.

You watch the feet of your coworkers walk away back to the dance floor as you sit frozen in your panic.

“Are you okay?” you hear a deep voice, right in your ear. You jump and whirl around to find the source.

You recognize two things at once. One, the man, with his dark, cat-like stare and dark hair pulled into a half bun on the top of his head, in front of you is the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. Two, you’ve sat down at the wrong booth.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was sitting,” you say. You push yourself up to a standing position immediately, bowing your head in apology.

You startle when you feel a warm hand wrap around your shoulder pulling you up from your bow. The man has stood up and is looking at you with the utmost concern etched into his features.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and say again, “I’m really sorry for intruding.”

“I don’t mind,” he says with a soft smile. “You didn’t want to dance?”

You swallow again, calculating whether this means he is asking you to dance—is he flirting with you—no, wait you sat at his table, not the other way around, or is he just a concerned citizen? You realize you’re just staring at him. You jump a little as you say, “Ah, it’s a lot of people.”

He nods at this, as if this is a perfectly reasonable explanation. “Would you like to sit? I could get you another drink?”

“Oh,” you say. “I, uh, am just drinking club soda tonight, actually.”

He nods again and looks at you like this is a perfectly normal drink to have in a club. He waves his hands back to the booth, guiding you to sit, which you do in a sort of daze. Then he powers off towards the bar, presumably to grab the drinks.

“Who are you?” a tall man with black hair running to his shoulders asks, stepping up to the table. You realize he’s one of the dancers you were ogling earlier. Now would be a great time for someone to pull the fire alarm.

“I, uh,” you glance around for some kind of excuse or explanation. “I think I’m at the wrong table.”

You get up quickly and look around, pretending to look for your table while wildly debating how to escape this whole damn night.

“Hoba, she’s my guest,” says the man coming back with your drinks.

“Oh, your guest,” the new man, ‘Hoba,’ says with a raised eyebrow. He turns back to you and says, “I’m Hoseok. Nice to meet you.”

He looks at you expectantly, while your eyes flit between him and the other man. You take a deep breath and say, “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“You want to come dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asks with a dazzling smile.

“I’m, uh, I’m okay. Thank you,” you say. The first man hands you your club soda, which you gratefully take just to have something to do with your hands.

“Alright, well, have fun, kids,” Hoseok says with a cheeky click of his tongue and another sensational smile.

You watch as the first man slides into the booth and looks up at you with hesitance. He says, “I’m Yoongi, by the way. Sorry I didn’t get to introduce myself sooner.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say as you slide down next to him in the booth.

You quickly find your anxiety and fears about awkward flirting or stilted conversation are all unfounded. He nurses his whiskey and you your club soda and you talk about a range of subjects from latest reads to work to the quirks of life in the city. You are fascinated by his job as a music producer and are pretty sure you could listen to him speak on the subject for hours. Occasionally, your conversation lapses as you both listen to whatever song is on and just enjoy each other’s presence.

You find out that it’s actually Hoseok’s birthday, which is why Yoongi is at the club at all. He is there with his group of friends, humoring the birthday boy with his wish to have everyone together for the evening. It seems allowing Yoongi to “guard the table” was the compromise to ensure everyone had a good time.

Yoongi even laughs while showing you the e-book he has loaded up on his phone. It’s apparently what he was doing before you had crashed into his booth and upending his plans for the night.

“Y/N!” you hear screeches of your name, with raucous giggles following. Three of your colleagues from work have spotted you and have clearly decided to ruin the one good thing going for you this evening.

You turn quickly and utter a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

Your coworkers stand at the end of the table, eyeing you and Yoongi sitting casually together in the booth. They are still giggly and have mischievous grins on their faces.

One of them, wearing a skin-tight neon pink bodysuit, says, “You should introduce us to your friend, Y/N.”

You shrink into the back of the booth seat as you move your gaze from the expectant faces of your coworkers to the now-steely facade Yoongi has adopted. His eyes flit to your face and then he glances down to take in your whole body posture. He tenses up before looking back at your work colleagues.

You feel the need to say something to break the tension, so you say, “Uh, these are my coworkers. They invited me out tonight. This is, uh, this is Yoongi.”

You watch as they smirk at your shaky introductions and then turn a hungry gaze to Yoongi.

Pink Bodysuit says, “So nice to meet you, Yoongi. Wanna come dance with us?”

You curl into yourself a little more and slide down the seat a fraction, perhaps hoping to disappear completely.

“I’m busy right now,” Yoongi says. His tone is deep and dark. It contains none of the warmth he’d had while speaking with you.

“If you think you’re getting an easy lay, you might want to think twice. Miss Mousy is just a stuck up bitch and is probably playing you,” Pink Bodysuit says.

You feel like you’ve been doused in a tub of cold water. You stare, mouth agape, at Pink Bodysuit. The underhanded bullying and the teasing are one thing, but this is in your face. You can’t think of anything beyond how completely and totally humiliated you feel.

“I, uh, I just remembered- I have to, uh, I have to go,” you stammer out and rush to your feet. Dots dance across your vision, probably from getting up too fast, but also from the panic attack that is threatening to freeze your lungs.

Red hot tears burn your eyes as you push past your awful coworkers and you stumble as you make your way to the exit. You feel the first tear slide down your cheek as you double over on the sidewalk. The cool February air is welcome as it shocks your system, allowing your lungs to gasp in air.

You keep falling forward, eventually letting your knees hit the sidewalk and your right palm pushing out to take some of your weight before you face-plant into the concrete. People walking by give you a wide berth. You let more tears fall and are almost glad no one is stopping to check on you—almost.

You don’t know how much time has passed, probably only a minute or two, when someone wearing a black shirt, black ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket are kneeling directly in front of you. Their hands, fingers adorned with thin silver rings, are clinging to their own knees.

You look up and gulp in surprise when you recognize Yoongi. His cheeks are flushed red and his brow is wrinkled in worry.

“Can you hear me?” he asks.

You try to decipher whether that’s a strange question to ask, but nod all the same.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asks next.

You nod, even though you don’t actually know if that’s the correct answer. He holds out his hands to you, palms up, and you take them into your own hands. They are large, calloused, and warm. Safe, even.

He supports your weight through your hands as you both stand up from your kneeling position on the sidewalk.

“That’s good, you’re okay,” he murmurs.

“I’m so sorry, that was so mortifying,” you manage to say after taking a few deep breaths. “I- I don’t even know how you can look at me after that.”

He gives you the softest smile you think you’ve ever seen. Belatedly, you realize he’s still holding your hands and shows no signs of letting go. People are still walking past you on the sidewalk, but now you can’t find it in you to care.

“At the risk of sounding very, very cheesy, I think the trick is going to convince me to stop looking at you,” Yoongi says.

You make a choked sound as you try to groan and laugh at the same time. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Are you actually real?”

“Afraid so,” he says with his own laugh. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please,” you say without hesitation.

Yoongi grins at you and then laces your fingers together in one hand before pulling you gently along down the sidewalk.

You casually wonder if the 80s, as a whole decade, is just out to haunt you this evening. You look around the small diner, completely decked out in 1980s decor. At least this place seems to be quieter than the club, with Blondie singing at reasonable decibels over the sound system.

“So, I don’t want to pry, but are you coworkers always that shitty?” Yoongi asks after you place your orders with the server.

“Uh,” you say before clearing your throat. “No, I mean, they are shitty, yes. But not, uh, usually that obvious about it.”

You shrug in an attempt to say this was not a big deal, like you hadn’t just had a panic attack in front of a whole ass club less than an hour ago.

Yoongi just nods, eyes searching your face.

“You left your friend’s birthday party,” you say.

Yoongi blinks for a moment before it’s his turn to shrug. “He’ll understand.”

Your mouth drops open and then snaps shut again, before you say, “You, uh, aren’t actually going to tell him what happened? Right?”

Yoongi studies your face before saying, “You don’t want me to tell him.”

“Uh, well, it was- is mortifying,” you say. You are really hoping this is obvious.

“The only people who should be embarrassed are those vapid people you have the misfortune of working with,” he says.

“Oh,” you say.

“So, Nirvana?” Yoongi asks.

You stare for a minute trying to understand the sudden change of topic. He waves at you. You look down and remember your shirt.

“Oh, yeah, they told me it was a 90s theme at the club,” you say. You add a little more quietly, “And, honestly, this is how I dress outside of work, anyway.”

“Well, their first album was published in 1989, so technically, you are in theme,” he says dryly. “Not everyone in the 80s wore obnoxiously neon spandex.”

You snort at this, a little mad you hadn’t thought of this clap back when your coworkers were torturing you earlier. Then you start laughing and can’t stop. You can feel the tears pricking at your eyes and your sides start to hurt, but you can’t stop.

Yoongi sits with a small smirk on his face, watching you. There’s a warm light in his eyes. As you start to sober up again from your hysterical laughing fit, you return the fondness with a smile of your own. You think very briefly about the childish hatred of your coworkers and how in one fell swoop, this man in front of you makes you feel like shrugging and saying, “eh, let them hate me.” Here this man is acting as the perfect mirror for you to understand the simple answers in life. Your smile grows.

“Can I have your number?” you ask.

Your reward for your impulsive bravery is the most adorably heart-melting smile you have ever seen. Worth it.

“Thanks so much for walking me home,” you murmur.

You’re standing outside your apartment building and want to kick yourself for not coming up with a clever way to make the evening last longer. You really don’t want to part yet. You kick the toe of your boot with the heel of the other.

You are holding hands again. You have been since leaving the diner. You look at your fingers woven tightly together. You don’t want to let go.

“It’s no problem,” Yoongi says. “I’m happy you accidentally sat in my booth.”

You huff out a laugh at that. You look up to his face, smile slipping into something more serious, and say, “Me, too.”

Yoongi leans forward, slowly, and when your brain catches up to what’s happening, you meet him in the last moments. His lips are a bit chapped, but gentle. You step closer to his body, not willing to let him pull away from the kiss. With your free hand you clutch at his shoulder, pulling yourself even closer.

You don’t know how long you stand pressing your lips together, before he’s pulling back just far enough to let you both breathe for a moment.

Into the air between the two of you, you whisper, “Please, don’t go.”

This close to his face, you can hear and feel his breath hitch. So, you double down and whisper again, “Please.”

He closes in on your lips again and kisses a little more fervently this time. Not breaching with his tongue, but setting a rhythm to the kiss that has you fighting to keep your knees from buckling.

This time when you break apart to breathe, you turn towards your apartment building and pull him by the hand you still have firmly grasped in your own. He doesn’t resist.

You stand shoulder to shoulder, next to each other in the elevator. You squeeze his hand. He looks towards you and you exchange small smiles.

You fumble with the keypad to your flat.

“You don’t know the code to your own apartment?” Yoongi teases.

“Ah, I might be a little nervous,” you say with a chuckle.

“Hey,” he calls softly. You look up at him. “You don’t need to be nervous. Nothing will happen that you don’t want.”

You smile at him. “I know. I’m a- It’s a good nervous. I don’t, uh, do this much- or ever.”

You turn back to the keypad before you can freak out from whatever facial expression he might be making at your boldness. You breathe a sigh of thanks when you get the code right this time.

The light over the door inside the apartment clicks on automatically as you pull Yoongi in through the threshold. In your head, you envision the front door closing, Yoongi pulling you into a passionate kiss, both of you a tangle of limbs and shedding clothing as you stumble your way to the bedroom in the dark, and land in a heap of fiery passion on your bed. Of course, that’s what happens in movies or maybe for those giggling neon pink spandex coworkers. Not you and your awkwardness.

The door shuts with a soft clink and a beep behind you as you both silently bend over to unlace and take off your boots. Yoongi takes off his leather jacket and hangs it on an open hanger over the shoe rack. The automatic light clicks off and you are engulfed in soft darkness, the only light coming in faint from the city lights through the window in your living room.

“Ah, sorry,” you say as you hurry forward to push the button that turns the lights on in the living room.

You glance around nervously, glad you had spent the time earlier that day cleaning to work out the nerves about going out this evening. The apartment isn’t big, and honestly not much lived in. You spend a lot of time at work, being the new person still trying to make their mark on the company. You mostly come home, watch a bit of TV, and then read or sleep in bed. A quiet life, to make up for the too-much-drama that is your workplace maybe.

The room is enough to hold a medium-sized TV with a loveseat. You have a plant in the window that boasts a semi-impressive view, only blocked partially by another high rise in front. If you tilt just right, you can see a pretty good view of downtown, especially on clear nights, with the city lights twinkling. The kitchen is also modest, just right off the living, separated by the small breakfast bar. No room for an actual dining table.

“It’s, uh, not much,” you say.

“This is great,” Yoongi murmurs as he walks around the living room. He pauses to look at the photos on the wall.

“Thanks,” you say. “You, uh, can I get you something to drink?”

Yoongi turns and looks at you with a smile. “Sure.”

Having something to do, you spring into action, stepping over to the kitchen. You open the small fridge and cringe. “I, uh, I have water? I might have some tea.”

You slide over to the draw and pull it out. “Yeah, I have some green tea?”

“Green tea sounds good,” Yoongi says, still looking at your decorations. He pauses to admire the view.

You quickly put water from the bottle in the fridge into the electric kettle to boil. You pull two mugs from the cabinet and pull out bags of tea. “Sorry, it’s just tea bags. I don’t have company over enough to spring for anything fancier.”

Yoongi huffs a short laugh. “It’s fine.”

When the tea is ready you motion to the loveseat and bring the mugs into the living room with you. You set them on the coasters on the small coffee table, so that you can grab the throw from the back of the couch to put on your lap. After fiddling with it and settling yourself in, you pull up a lo-fi fireplace channel on the TV to fill the silence a bit.

After a few minutes of sitting together and sipping tea, you feel compelled to fill the quiet. “So, what, uh, book were you reading tonight?”

Yoongi smiles into his mug and proceeds to regale you with not only the book title, but an interesting backstory about the author and finishes with recommending you check it out. You respond with an animated recommendation of your own. The conversation flows easily and you cannot for the life of you remember why you were ever anxious around him.

Somehow, without you realizing, you both move closer and closer to the center of the loveseat. Soon, you are pressed up to one another and Yoongi has an arm slung casually behind you on the back of the couch. With the warmth of Yoongi’s almost-embrace, the gentle sounds from the TV, and the late hour, a wave of exhaustion washes over you.

As Yoongi is talking, you let the weight of your head rest on his shoulder and your eyes drift closed. Just for a moment. Then you realize how quiet it is. Your eyes snap open.

“Sorry!” you murmur. “I think I drifted off.”

You can feel more than hear Yoongi’s laugh with your side pressed into his. He says, his voice husky, “You were only asleep for maybe 10 minutes. I was just going to let you sleep. It’s late.”

You shake your head and realize he’s turned off the TV, which is why it’s so quiet now. You swivel yourself so that you are facing him and then scooch up so that you can reach his face with yours.

Rather than the burning passion you had imagined when you first invited Yoongi into your apartment, the kiss is soft, caring, slow. The almost-embrace becomes a full embrace as Yoongi pulls his arms around you. You settle in further by pulling your hands to his chest and grab at the fabric there.

As you melt into him, you let your nerves go and bite at his lower lip playfully. The moan he lets out in reaction goes straight to your core, lighting you on fire. You let out a pitiful whine in response and Yoongi tentatively slips his tongue out to meet yours. Rather than it feeling like a fight for space and dominance, the kissing feels more like a gentle appreciation of one another. You feel special, seen, full of care and cared for.

When you finally pull apart to breathe, you don’t hesitate to stand up and reach out for Yoongi’s hand. He looks at you for a moment before placing his hand in your outstretched one. You grasp at it and pull him up to stand with you. You stand on tip-toe to place a sweet kiss on his cheek. Then you squeeze his hand and you pull him around the loveseat and towards your bedroom door.

When you step into the dimly lit room, you take two seconds to thank your past self again for the anxiety-induced cleaning frenzy you went on earlier.

You pull him into the dark room and hesitate before going straight to the bed.

“Uh, I just-” you start. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel Yoongi go completely still next to you.

You try again, “I just hope that this isn’t, uh, like a one time thing. Just to be clear. I don’t want this to be just tonight. Sorry, probably being a total buzzkill.”

You feel your face heat up and you stare down and your sock-covered toes.

You feel the warmth from Yoongi’s palm as he cups your cheek and lifts your face so that you’ll look at him. He has a soft smile on his lips. Your stomach feels like it’s doing back flips.

He leans in and plants a chaste kiss on your lips before he says, “I have every intention of making you breakfast in the morning.”

He kisses you again and you feel your knees wobble a little, you squeeze his hand a little tighter to keep yourself upright. “And I will probably try very hard to wait to call you until tomorrow evening, so as to not overwhelm you.”

He kisses your lips, a little harder this time, with a little teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulls away a fraction. “And I will ask you if you’re free next weekend to take you out on a proper date.”

More kissing, his tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth, which you readily meet with your own. He pulls back again and says, “And then hopefully every weekend after that. Unless I get greedy and want to meet you for lunch in town sooner.”

You are the one to pull him in this time, reaching your fingers up to tangle in his hair. You step backwards towards the bed, while keeping your lips locked on his.

You let out a small grunt when you accidentally hit the bed frame too hard. Then you laugh as you fall backwards. Yoongi, not realizing what is happening until it’s too late, follows you down and manages to roll slightly midair so he doesn’t crush you completely with his weight. You don't stop kissing, but both of you are laughing now, smiling as you kiss, teeth knocking awkwardly.

When you pull back to try to catch your breath and regain the mood, you pant out, “I don’t think you’ll overwhelm me. Call me whenever you want.”

Yoongi leans over the top of you and kisses you again. This time slower, but you can feel the tension that’s building between your bodies. Hands that were cautious before now wander more freely. You slip your fingers under Yoongi’s shirt, tracing up his abs to his pecs. You appreciate how quickly his nipples harden under your touch.

In one swift movement, Yoongi reaches behind himself and pulls his shirt off. Quickly, returns to tracing your lips, jawline, and throat with his lips and tongue. You grab onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself. You can feel the heat leaving a trail on your skin as Yoongi soothing draws a hand down your side, over your shirt, before squeezing lightly at your waist. His hand glides lower to wrap around your hip, the weight of which makes you realize you’ve been canting your hips slightly forward and back, your body chasing some kind of friction. That realization makes you moan—jarringly loud for the quiet of the room.

You feel your face burn a scorching red in the embarrassment of how turned on you are. When Yoongi stops kissing you and looks up into your face, you realize you’ve stilled your body. You pull one hand from his shoulder and cover your mouth and nose with your palm. The sleeve of your plaid shirt is hiding your fingers, which just reminds you of how very dressed you are while Yoongi is topless.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble behind your hand.

Yoongi gives a low chuckle. While pulling your hand away from your face gently by the wrist, he murmurs, “You don’t need to hide from me.”

You feel a giggle bubble up inside of you and you attempt to swallow it down, which leaves you making an awkward squeaking cough. Yoongi looks surprised and moves his hand from your wrist to pat circles into your back.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Just horribly awkward and embarrassed now, I’m fine,” you say while shaking your head. Another giggle escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut and grit out with a clenched jaw, “Wow, what the fuck.”

Yoongi laughs loudly and rolls onto his back on the bed. The arm closer to the mattress gets pulled along with his body and ends up sort of tucked under his neck. He’s still laughing and you feel another giggle burst out of you.

“I- I don’t giggle,” you say, exasperated.

“Really?” Yoongi says while still laughing.

“Really!” you exclaim, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “I’m not a giggler.”

After another beat, Yoongi rolls back over onto one elbow so he’s leaning over you. He looks at you with a brilliant smile, making you catch your breath. With his free hand he’s pushing your hair behind your ear. His own hair has come loose from its tie and is now hanging down around his face. You mimic his motions by lifting your hand to tuck some of the strands behind his ear.

“Okay,” he whispers. His thumb is now caressing your cheek.

“Okay?” you ask with a raised brow.

“Okay, you’re not a giggler,” he clarifies. His smile reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the edges.

Instead of the million wonderful comebacks you are sure would normally be on the tip of your tongue, you push yourself up to find his lips again with yours. You run your hands through his now-free hair and whimper at how amazing it feels to be able to tangle your fingers in the long locks.

Soon enough more clothes are being shed and you are nestling at the head of your bed, exploring each other’s bodies. There’s no pressure to rush and you both take the luxury of pressing soft kisses everywhere. With the gentleness, the hesitation you felt earlier is completely gone.

When he’s tenderly entering you with a smooth motion, you’re both gasping into one another’s mouths, swallowing each other’s moans. He sets a steady, unrushed rhythm that your body naturally curves in to meet with each thrust. You revel in the feeling while twisting your fingers in his soft hair. You can feel your toes curl as your orgasm builds. Yoongi’s hands are caressing your skin. To you, he feels like he’s everywhere, touching every part of you at once.

Without any warning, the white hot ecstasy of your orgasm makes all the muscles in your body tense. Instead of crying out, you swallow your moans in surprise. Yoongi slows down, but doesn’t stop his ministrations as you ride out wave after wave of pleasure. He picks up the pace a bit as soon as your muscles relax again and you can almost immediately feel another orgasm building in your core.

You know Yoongi is close when his own muscles get more taunt and his pace slows, but his thrusts are harder, more targeted. He opens his mouth, perhaps to warn you, but you pull his face down to yours and you kiss him deeply.

Between the passionate kiss and Yoongi groaning as his own orgasm takes over, you feel another wave crest and your vision goes white again. You think every cell in your body is screaming in bliss. As you come down from your respective highs, your bodies melt into one another. The kissing and touching does not stop for a while, only interrupted briefly when you help clean each other up, disposing of the used condom, and laughing through brushing teeth together in your small bathroom.

Dawn light is creeping through the window as you curl up under the covers of your bed. Yoongi runs his fingers lightly through your hair in a soothing, repetitive motion until your eyelids are too heavy to lift.

You wake up to the sun streaming through your tiny bedroom window. You rub your eyes, sit up, and realize the bed is empty. A lump forms in your throat. You quickly get up and throw some clothes on before peaking out into the living area. It’s empty.

“Fuck,” you groan.

You walk out to the quiet space and try to sort out your emotions. You don’t really want to cry. You also feel a bit stupid.

You startle when there’s a buzz at the door. You walk over to the intercom and press the button.

“Who is it?” you say.

There’s a pause, a delay in the intercom, and then a familiar voice, “Yoongi. Can you let me in? It’s freezing out here.”

You let out a giggle—thankful no one is in the apartment to hear you—and press the button to let Yoongi into the building.

You race to the bathroom to brush your teeth, now that you know Yoongi is coming back.

When you open the door for him after he knocks, he stands with his arms full of plastic bags. You quirk your brow at him.

He steps inside, placing the bags on the floor in order to take his shoes and jacket off.

“I said I would make you breakfast, but you had absolutely nothing edible in your kitchen,” he states. He turns from hanging his jacket up to smile at you.

“Oh.” You feel your face heating up and you don’t know if that’s embarrassment at the state of your pantry or the blooming feelings you have for this man in front of you. Both, probably both.

The man can cook. Breakfast is delicious. He stands at the door with his shoes and jacket on, clearly as reluctant to finally leave as you are to see him go.

“Thank you,” you say. You see the slight confusion on his face and add, “For breakfast.”

He smiles at that and waves a hand to shrug it off.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. He leans in and gives you a tender kiss that makes you want to keep being greedy for more.

“See you soon,” you say.

Then he’s out the door, turning back to give you another beautiful gum-filled smile, and disappearing as the door shuts with a click.

You walk back into your living room feeling a little empty in the now-too-quiet space. As you take a seat on the couch, your phone begins ringing.

“Hello?” you answer.

“You said I wouldn’t overwhelm you if I called you when I wanted to instead of waiting until a reasonable time had passed,” Yoongi says.

You laugh. “I did say that, yes. And it’s still true today.”

“Good,” Yoongi says. You can close your eyes and see his soft smile as he walks down the city street below your apartment.

Grinning wide, you ask, “Are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

#yoongi x reader #Min Yoongi #thearmyprof #one shot #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts #musicbingo23

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sleepy-achilles · 2 years ago

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The Family of Destruction- Home

Part two of Leon's first death and yes I was listening to the song one of us from lion King whilst writing it. Bite me.

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Mourning when your son has been on TV since birth is difficult. It's even more difficult when your son is the victim of a cult crime. The whole world thinks the house was old and faulty and just caught fire, which taker scoffed at when he saw the news as that's exactly what they said when his parents and baby brother were taken from him, only those there know the real cause.

John hasn't been the same since. Taker doesn't blame him, he held the boy he saw as a brother as he died. It also doesn't help the others using it to get a rise out of him during promos. John's angry and upset. And he's making sure everyone knows it.

Cassie, she's the only one taking it somewhat well. She's convinced herself he'll come back, claiming dad always does, so will Lee.

Taker can't bring himself to destroy the girl. She's 15, she has school and the fact she's still doing well since she began believing he'll come back taker can't do it. He'll pay for her therapy bills, hell he'll start sending her now.

Shawn? Shawn is a mess. He won't speak, he won't eat. He does his matches and then goes back to the hotel. Taker doesn't remember the last time he even looked at shawn.

Taker? Takers angry at himself. Hurt at the world. Its his fault this happened. But he never asked for this. None of them did. He's put his anger to rest by rebuilding their home. Again.

Unlike John, people don't dare to mention Leon's name to either taker or Shawn. Last time someone did they received a very hard sweet chin music.

It's been 4 months and Taker doesn't know if the pain will ever go away. Taking harder and riskier moves only helps so much.

-----

Taker leans against the ropes, keeping his head low as he catches his breathe back. He listens as a Leon chant begins. Something the fans have done a lot and taker does appreciate it, he does, it helps keep Leon alive, it just hurts him so damn much.

"Chant his name all you want! He is not one of us!" Paul calls. Takers head snaps up, his locking with the fat man on the stage. A man he hasn't seen since he brutally murdered his son. "You bastard" taker growls pushing off the rope. He stumbles slightly causing Steve to catch him. "Undertaker, do I have great news for you? The skeleton Prince is now the skeleton King!" Paul cheers. Takers eyes water at this, his head tilting slightly as his jaw clenches. He always knew Leon was different, he just didn't know he'd be cursed aswell. "No." Taker chokes. "Take a look at what I found" Paul smirks pointing to the tron. Taker lifts his gaze and his world changes.

The camera zooms onto Leon's grave as the dirt shifts and moves. A hand suddenly shoots out, startling the camera man. A bruised and bloody hand. "Help him!" Paul orders. Kanes hand appears, grabbing Leon's and pulling, digging at the dirt. Leon gasps as his face is freed. His face covered in his iconic skeleton paint. His hair blonde hair black and his streak white. His eyes keep flashing between fully white, fully purple and normal.

"Holy shit" Steve gasps. Taker can feel a panic build in him. Leon's alive? Leon's like him? "No" Taker whispers. "Taker what the fuck is going on?" Steve demands. "Hol-hold on" Taker chokes holding his hand out. Steve watches as takers eyes roll back, tears rolling down his face.

"....le......o....n?"

"...w........l....e.."

"Le...on?"

"Leon!"

Leon's eyes snap open at the sound of his father's voice. "Your alive and I don't know where to find you. Come home to us, please." Taker pleads. Leon's eyes scan the room he's tied up in. Hooded figures. No Paul. No kane. He looks down at the metal restraints holding his arms to the wall. "Hes awake" one states, except Leon instantly knows its not English, its Latin. His years of training and hearing his father and uncle speak it together have immediately translated it to English for him.

He'll thank them one day.

"Master said to leave him. The hexes will keep him weak." The other states. Leon lift his gaze to the hexes. He tilts his head slightly and watches as a invisible finger starts to slowly draw through the hexes, breaking them. The fools don't even notice. Leon? Leon can't help but smile at his new power.

He looks back down at the restraints and tests them. A sudden strength runs through him and he breaks them. The hooded figures stop and stare at him shocked. Leon just tilts his head. 'This will be child's play' he smirks before stepping forward.

"Shawn!" John gasps as he forces his way into shawns hotel room. Shawn doesn't move. He just stays laid in bed, staring out of the window. It's his day off, he'll spend it how he damn wants. "Shawn! It's Leon!" Shawn sits up immediately and looks at John. "Leon? What about him?" Shawn's voice is rough from lack of use. "Hes alive, They are showing it on Smackdown! We have to get to the arena now!" John tells him. "You drive." Is all Shawn says before dragging him out.

Leon looks at the knocked out bodies on the floor. His gaze then turns to the skeleton blade placed on display like a trophy. Leon feels his scar itch even at the thought of what that blade did. And yet he still steps towards it, as if it calls for him.

He raises his hand and closes it around the bone handle.

"Return to us leon"

His eyes glow purple. 'Return home..' he thinks to himself. He scans the area one more time before it fades to black.

It doesn't take them long to get to the arena. It takes Leon even less time.

Taker opens his eyes as Paul rants and raves. That's when the lights turn out. "Taker?" Steve asks. "Not me.." Taker whispers. Hope fills taker. 'Hes received my call.'

The lights turn back on and that hope quickly turns to dread. Leon is stood behind Paul and whilst taker is glad he's alive, he sure as hell doesn't look it. His nornaly Ash like tan skin is a dead pale kind. He has deep black circles around his eyes. His hair is thin and wiry. He's thin, his bones visible. But taker knows this is his boy.

Leon tilts his head and that's when taker catches the blade in Leon's boney hands. "Leon! No!" Taker yells. Paul's eyes widen and he jerks forward and turns around. Taker doesn't hesitate to climb out of the ring. He stops at the bottom of the ramp when Paul moves to the side.

Shawns arms are wrapped around Leon. Leon is suddenly not the same person he saw five seconds ago. Leon is himself again. No longer dead looking. Zombie like. The blade falls from his hands as his eyes turn normal. He leans back against his Papa and closes his eyes. "My baby" Shawn whispers as he rests his cheeks against Leon's shoulder blades. "My baby is back to me" shawn whispers, tears escaping his eyes. Leon lowers his head, bringing a hand up rest against his papas.

"Home"

Shawn opens his eyes at the rough voice. He lifts his head slightly and watches as Taker rushes up the ramp, pulling both into a hug. "Welcome home" Taker whispers against Leon's once again full head of hair. "Welcome home." Taker repeats.

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

Cassie smiles widely at her brother. "I told them you'd come back" she states. Leon just looks at her and nods. He hasn't spoken much since his return. Only the word home. "Dad's been working nonstop to rebuild the home. It looks amazing!" Cassie adds. Leon just smiles at her before turning his gaze to meet takers in the rear view mirror. Takers been keeping a close eye on him since he returned. He's not the only one who saw Leon in that state. The whole world did. The media believe wwe have just upped their special affects. Everyone at wwe have questions, but so does Taker. He doesn't know what to say to people. He doesn't even know what to ask Leon.

Shawn? Shawns completely ignoring anything that happened that day. He's just happy to have his family back.

Taker knows better than to push Shawn. Especially now.

He stops the car outside their rebuilt home. Charlie barks in the back seat. "Home" Leon whispers. All three glance at him. Taker wasn't sure how he'd react to seeing the house. But it was worth a shot. They climb out of the car, shawn last. Shawn hugs himself as he examines the house.

Flashes of it on fire shoot in his mind. But no. That's not where shawns trauma really lays. Unlike taker, he's not scared of the fire, just of those who set it. Those who use it to take the lives of others. Those who set the fire and then use a more cruel method to take a child's life.

Shawn turns his gaze too Leon who's staring at the house. Shawn steps closer and notices that Leon isn't staring, his eyes are rolled back. "Taker? Taker!" Shawn yells. Taker jerks forward and catches Leon as he falls back. Cassies eyes widen and Charlie growls, but not at them, at the woods. Taker looks towards the woods and his eyes immediately land on the shadow watching them. He looks away as a hand grabs his arm.

Taker looks to see Leon staring at him. "Leon?" Taker asks. "Sorry." Leon mutters standing on his own. "Im okay. I didn't mean to scare you lot. Its just been...a tough few months." Leon admits. "Its nice to hear you say more than home" cassie smiles. Leon nods and looks towards the woods. "He will cause no harm." Leon states. Shawn and cassie look at him confused. "Not to us. He's here to protect us. A little deal I made when I was down under." Leon adds. "I knew you'd goto hell. Hunter owes me 50" cassie states. "Of course he did." Shawn huffs. "The devil's a good guy. I understand the world differently now." Leon tells them.

Taker examines his sons. There's something different to it than a week ago when he rejoined them. "I understand." Leon tells him. "You shouldn't." Taker states. Leon just hums and looks back at the house. "I know. Now you and kane aren't alone. And now I'm home." Leon shrugs.

"Im glad your home and I'm glad we are all together again" Shawn states.

Taker glances at the shadow again as his family make their way inside. "Whats going to happen next?" He asks quietly.

#wwe #shawn michaels #the undertaker #wwf #hbtaker #undertaker x shawn michaels #shawn x undertaker #john cena #triple h #stone cold steve austin #paul bearer #kane #oc characters #leon michaels #cassidy michaels #charlie doggo #the family of destruction fics #the family of destruction

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countrymusicandcher · 5 years ago

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OMG

OH MY FUCKING GOD

THE CORNMAN

THE FUCKING CORNMAN

A Black and white folklore horror story by Vinnie (Ian Vincent) Dowe and Kathleen Weldon !!!

Music by Jane McGarrigle & Peter Weldon (!!! These fucking stars toghther to score their kids film?! YAS)

Starring DANE LANKEN as the cornman who comes to EAT the boy who refuse to eat his corn (ARCANGELO WAINWRIGHT ALBETTA)!!!

Features Sylvan & Lily Lanken (don't see Lily in the trailer though, only hear her voice?) and someone named Nessie (??? My collected McGarrigle/Wainwright/Lanken/Dowe knowledge do not know who she is) and Leida the dog!

Gabrielle and Islay McMillan (Jane McGarrigle's grandbabies via daughter Anna Catherine) do paralell recitation!!!

Costumes & Make up by the one and only Lily Lanken ❤

Filmed on ANNA & DANE'S FARM in Alexandria, Ontario way back in 2015!!!

GUYS can you tell how fucking excited i am over this shortfilm?! THIS EXCITED THATS HOW EXCITED I AM !!! My ONLY other wish would be for this to have Jane or Anna do a part!

#anna mcgarrigle #ian vincenzo dow #kathleen weldon #sylvan lanken #lily lanken #jane mcgarrigle #peter weldon #Gabrielle McMillan #Islay McMillan #arcangelo wainwright albetta #omg ive never mentioned Gaby and Islay before #also listen none of these people were mentioned with last name and in so e cases not even full name thats all me

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daimonhalos · 4 years ago

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Appreciation post for the eggpire and more during the red banquet cause I'm not seeing enough love for how well they organized and delivered and because I'm so proud of cc!Bad for how far the Bloodvines arc has gone ♥ (this stuff is from Bad's vod btw)

Also something to cheer people up a bit in case the lore got u hard like it got me cause I'm still not okay bestie <3

The starting soon screen being an animation (with glitches to show another frame!!) plus the jazzy electro-swing soundtrack underneath. Just such a good intro, I felt like I was actually in the waiting line for an event, just awesome.

Ponk. Just Ponk, dapper man, handsome Ponk just standing there. Gorgeous, thank you, standing ovation, I love him.

Just everything Bad and Ant did with the building of the room, the stairs!! The coat room!!! The statues right in front of the table, everything looked SO pretty.

ANT MY BELOVED LOOKING HANDSOME AS ALWAYS I just loved all their outfits. The banquet's skins just SLAPPED HARD.

The little moment where Bad changed view of his character and we could see him, Ant and Ponk cwc

Bad singing >>>>>>>>>>

Everyone getting lost despite the oak signs

THE ARC ABOVE THE DANCEFLOOR, WHAT THE HELL YOO

Bad complimenting everyone on their outfits and giving out some gapples here and there

Bad also always repeating the same catchphrases

Sam just drinking copiously and the dumpy situation

People actually dancing + HBomb being the dj

Puffy walking around Bad to see his outfit and complimenting him, just felt like their old friendship cwc

FOOLISH GAVE BAD A FLOWER <3

Bad scolding George for not wearing an outfit (Sam's "his name is Gogy and he is beautiful")

"It's almost time for the feast. It's gonna be delicious." the foreshadowing

Everyone dancing together cwc

"minecraft dancing is speed squats" eret ilu

Bad and Ant complimenting moment ♥

The eggpire all on the same side of the table. Them

Ponk's little "Hello!" after Bad said he made the soup, plus everyone going "good job!!" just twt

When Bad started asking if anyone wanted to give a toast, I realized eventually that this was more of a disguised "Want to say your last words before death?" and it now sounds s o freaking cool. ye s

P O N K 'S S P E E C H

"you look beautiful right now" sam i will cry

When in the middle of his speech, Bad turns to Ant who's already looking at him, nods, Ant nods back, and as Bad turns around again we can see Ant walking away from his seat. I am OBSESSED with this scene, like you already know something is about to go down and oh gosh it was delivered so good

THE LAVA COMING DOWN FROM THE CEILING AS BAD KEPT TALKING, NONE NOTICING, HIM TALKING ABOUT HOW THE BANQUET WILL BE UNFORGETTABLE. SO HOT

"And yeah! Thank you for coming everybody" the little mischievous giggles right after "And prepare uh ... yep. Prepare to die." AND THEN HE FUCKIGN DRINKS FROM HIS GLASS LIKE COME ON YOU CANT BE ANY COOLER THAN THAT YOOO

"The leaf is staying the way it is" you can hear the laughter in his voice like HAH GOTTEM that's so good

Bad still giving Hbomb gapples cwc

"Where you looking for this perchance?" AND THEN EQUIPS THE ENTIRE ARMOR AND WEAPONS E Y E when the twists started dude. this si where the twists started and never ended

HANNAH CROSSING SIDES AND SIDING WITH THE EGGPIRE. QUEEN SHIT that was such a cool moment for her i'm so glad she's getting her moment

The eggpire laughing, just pure villainy, love them

"Time to get on the main event" the nonchalance. The way they equipped the crossbows and readied the arrows at the same time. B r u h fucking awesome they are

The eggpire faking being afraid when Sam was talking about blowing the egg up. Sad that we already knew about the obsidian thing, but still made it a very cool scene. Especially right after when they started laughing at them again. I don't know what it is about it but I love them being so sassy.

FREAKING EXECUTIONS THEY WORKED FOR MASS EXECUTIONS they were able to trap all those freaking people!! And trick them and counter attack all the time! what the fuck, I'm so impressed

Thank you Fundy for sounding super terrified /gen ♥

Wait ahah they really said EGGSECUTION-

THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES THE EGG HATCHES im not saying IT but im saing Velvet

"Follow me! Follow me!" HANNAH SOUNDED SO ENTHUSIASTIC i love

"We trusted you!" "Well, that was your first mistake-" THE WAY BAD WAS ABOUT TO LAUGH. DUDE they definitely had so much fucking fun making this

sassyboyhalo

Foolish acting thank u ily. Also the thunder not working what the heck i wanna know what was going on inside his mind right then he sounded so lost. THE ACTING

"Sacrifice!" Hannah idk how to say this but I love you

ANT MOMENTTTT

When puffy called them selfish i was expecting bad to just do a huge double take. I wanted him to snap immediately PLEASE SNAP-

BAD DELIVERING AGAIN WITH THE AMAZING ACTING

"Not just for the egg but for what the egg is going to give us" he's so desperately trying to make them udnerstand it promised him his friend back he literally mentions it every single time but everyone calls him selfish because they think he wants power when he just wants skeppy's friendship back in this essay I will- Anyway yes I love that he never explicitly says it because it kills us viewers with pain cause we KNOW and then the reveal will be 100 times more powerful. This is so awesome

"I can't stop Quackity and you know why I can't stop. If I stop I can't get what I need." his voice grew so much lower like he's just holding back MAN I HH IT WAS SO GOOD

SECRET RETREAT ROOM YOOO

Ponk giving Bad some food and telling him to stay safe, Bad telling both Hannah and Ponk to stay safe too. My tears

And now the solo Bad lore part, where we actually see the true part of him that's absolutely devastated and makes me cry, the way he acted all confident and then saw everything crumble in a few seconds and now he's destroyed again because what if they find a way to destroy the egg what then? what if he never gets skeppy back? dude, you can just read his emotions it's so sad and i love how it was portrayed

"I know where I can go. I know who I can see!" BDI REF BDI REF FOR SURE I have a feeling that's going to be explained in the next lore stream with Skeppy and I'm so hype. I love the little crumbs of references here and there.

"But now they have it.." he sounded so broken??? bad your acting please ill cry

"I didn't really want to hurt anybody" his true self trying to get back cwc especially because he's farther away from the egg. I just love the transition between the guy Bad portrays who's so sure about the egg when it's in front of others and the doubts and anxiety he actually has when he's alone. Just so cool

"Did I screw up?" im just pointing out everything that moves me emotionally cause these people's acting is so cool

Ending the stream with simple black background my beloved

Okay but really I'm so so so proud of the ccs for making this happen and it's only going upwards, I'm literally so in awe, they really said go big or go home

Free space for Ant's villain speech I wasn't able to hear yet, but they said it was v cool, so I'm trusting people on this

Thank you for listening, stan Bloodvines arc /hj

If I made typos no I didn't

#badboyhalo #antfrost #ponk #hannahxxrose #captain puffy #awesamdude #fundy #foolish gamers #hbomb94 #georgenotfound #velvetiscake #skeppy #quackity #dream smp #dream smp spoilers #purp pls stop #long post #red banquet

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usmsgutterson · 3 years ago

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Certainly- Kaz Brekker

The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!

Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz

Fic type- angsty fluff

Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)

You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities.

It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue.

The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.

It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise.

“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.”

“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”

“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.

You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry.

Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down.

Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it.

Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours.

“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.”

“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.”

“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.

He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying.

“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.”

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”

“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.

“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.

Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed.

“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.

“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!”

“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.

Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky.

“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”

“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”

“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”

“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”

You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to.

But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.

“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.

“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.

“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive.

Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field.

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish.

“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.

“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance.

I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable.

O N E Y E A R L A T E R

You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.

Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world.

“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.

Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”

“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.”

“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.

“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.”

Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces.

“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya.

You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.

“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot.

“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.

“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.

It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover.

“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.”

“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.

“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.

“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?”

“Certainly.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #platonic inej ghafa x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #waffles

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knightprincess · 3 years ago

Text

In This Heart of Mine (Crosshair x Fem Reader) Oneshot

Words: 2336 Warning: Grief - Implied Character Death A/N - Not proof read also her/she pronouns used Description: Crosshair remembers how he lost his Runi.

If there was one thing Crosshair hated about the empire. It was how they look his love away. Despite it being months since the Republic and Jedi Order had fallen, it still hurt him to remember it, he still hadn't dealt with the grief, the brokenness he so often felt. Despite his best efforts to ignore it, it always caught up with him during the quiet moments. Even now he could swear he heard (Y/N)'s voice, so clear as if she was standing right beside him. Crosshair guessed in a way she was, she was still with him if not physically then in his heart, closer than ever.

"Wish you were here (Y/N)" whispered Crosshair, his barracks empty, his brothers having left him behind days after he lost (Y/N). Days after his life had been ripped to shreds. They had yet to come back for him, despite the obvious he still hoped they would, he hoped they hadn't given up on him, not now when he still needed them so much. His new squad members weren't his favorite people, if he was honest he hated them, to him it felt like they were replacing his brothers, or at least the empire was. They took away his (Y/N), now they were trying to replace his brothers with natural born soldiers, people he hoped would just leave him be.

Crosshair didn't know the name of his new squad members. He didn't bother trying to remember them, even more so when comments had been made about how miserable he was, how they could do a better job just because they were natural born and he was a clone. Every time they were sent on an assignment he found himself hoping they didn't come back, or if they did they wouldn't return to the barracks. He wanted his brothers, if he couldn't have that, then he'd rather be left alone to grieve and remember the better times of the past. Times that he wished he could go back to now. If only so he could tell (Y/N) he loved her one more time. Even now he could still remember how he had lost her.

Flashback

The snowy terrain of Kaller was a welcome sight compared to the normal battlefields. Although the thick black smoke bellowing towards the grey filled sky, was a good give away as to where the battlefield actually was. Tech had made a comment about needing to reach General Depa Billada and her Padawan Caleb Dume soon. Wrecker mentioning something about not being able to wait to get his hands on the droids and destroy something, it was clear the oldest of the special unit was getting impatient, perhaps more so than he was on the Marauder heading over to assist. Echo and Hunter continued on with their conversation, although both keeping an eye out for any battle droid that was roaming the area or stragglers from the battle to have already taken place in the area they walked quietly through.

Crosshair on the other hand was towards the back of the small group, walking just behind (Y/N), his Jedi General and lover. His normal smirk placed upon his lips, although shielded from everyone else by his helmet. The sniper not being able to help but look over her, to admire her beauty, even when she was determined to help those she considered friends. Her lightsabers attached to her belt, ready for when she needed them, a sure thing considering they were once again heading into the battlefield. At their current position at the top of some snow covered hills, they were in the calm before the storm.

Also on the large steep hill was Caleb Dume, he seemed hopeful yet confused to see them, as if he was expecting more. Although he seemed pleased even reassured to see one of those sent as reinforcements was (Y/N) (Y/L/N), one of the many Jedi Knights, although one whom was rather well known to the republic at this point. Her power alone made her famous. Although she had also become known for her skills in battle since the wars had began just over three years prior.

What would have been an ordinary reinforcements mission had quickly gone sideways. Crosshair could remember (Y/N) leading Hunter, Echo, Tech and Wrecker into the fight against the battle droids, blue lightsaber at the read. The young Padawan having returned to his master to keep them updated on what was going on. He had watched as they took out the enemy forces, how Wrecker was having the time of his life, even how Tech made a comment or two as if greeting an old friend. Even how Echo effortless took out the battle droids around him. Hunter using his knife and blaster as he always did, where as (Y/N) had effortlessly deflected laser bolts and helped destroy the tanks and spider droids. Crosshair had done his normal task and covering for those in the thick of it from his lofty perch. Shooting any and all droids who got to close to those he cared for and loved.

Yet it was after that when everything went wrong. (Y/N) had given them orders to take out what remained of the droids nearby, to help with the counter attack, agreeing to allow the Caleb to go with them. Only when they were a distance away did they all receive an order, especially from the Chancellor. Execute Order 66. Caleb sensing something turned back, seeing his master fighting against the clones surrounding her, already too many of them for her to handle alone, he was about to go back when he heard her yelling for him to run. Although he had been frozen to the spot. Only moving when (Y/N) grabbed hold of his arm and running, her other hand hold the side of her neck.

Crosshair had wished he didn't have enhanced sight that day. What he saw still haunted him. (Y/N) had appeared in shock, her eyes wide, one of her lightsabers missing. Yet the hand holding the left side of her neck, slowly turn crimson, as a trail of blood was left in her wake. Almost instantly Crosshair had felt fear, hate even. Yet none the less listened to the orders given by Hunter. Wrecker was stall the regs if any came searching for (Y/N) and the Padawan, Echo and Tech were sent to find out what was going on and why the regs and turned so suddenly? Why they fired on their commanding Jedi? Where as Crosshair was set to go with Hunter to find both (Y/N) and Caleb.

As order Crosshair veered off to follow the tail of crimson staining the snow. Finding himself getting more anxious as he continued to follow it, dreading what he would find at the end. His worst fears being met when he come to the end of the trail of blood. Finding (Y/N), lent against a tree, more pale than the snow she sat upon. Her hand still holding on to the wound to her neck, as if to stem the bleeding or hide it from others. Fear shone so brightly in her eyes, yet so did her sadness and pain.

Without a second thought Crosshair ran to her side, taking off his helmet as he did so. Ignoring the voice in his head yelling the same four words over and over again. Instead focusing on his lover. The moment he reached her, he reached for her hand, taking hold of it in a gentle grip, feeling as she weakly squeezed his hand in return, as if to reassure him he was still alive, all be it just. She still had some strength left. Within seconds Crosshair had pulled her into his lap, fighting back his tears, even more so when gently moved her bloody hand from her neck, seeing just how back to wound was. Instantly he knew there was nothing he could do to help her. Only make her comfortable in her final moments. Yet still he hoped his words would encourage her to fight a little longer, until help arrived at least.

"Don't you give up on me Mesh'la. Just hold on" quietly spoke Crosshair, his words seeming so loud in the quiet area. He soon placed his own hand over her neck wound, taking hold of her hands in the other. Only now when looking over her, did he see she had been hit more than just once. Another scorch mark on her lower leg, just beneath the knee and a third on her right shoulder. "Remember the plans we made for when the war was over. Finding a plot of land somewhere, somewhere quiet and off grid, somewhere away from all the chaos and hassle" started the silver haired sniper, recalling the many conversations he had with her about leaving everything behind when the war was finally over. Taking his brothers with them, only telling a few trusted ones where they were going. They had planned a life together.

"I love you" whispered (Y/N) in response, lying against him. Her back against his chest, his long legs either side of her. Tears soon come to her eyes, as the inevitability hit her, she was going to die. Just like the other Jedi who had already fallen. Yet she had something they didn't, her sniper at her side and the knowledge of knowing none of her unit had betrayed her. "Promise me, you'll go on, you'll keep living" choked (Y/N), as she began to cough up her own blood, her end fast approach, even Crosshair knew it, he could feel her hands growing colder and heaver as her body went numb.

"No" responded Crosshair, his voice as quiet as hers, as he fought the losing battle with his tears and heartbreak. "There's no living without you" added the sniper, showing how much he loved her, how much she meant to him. "I love you Cyar'ika, please just stay with me" begged Crosshair. Tears breaking through his barrier as her hand fell from his, as she let out her final waspy breaths. All Crosshair could do was hold on to her tightly, hugging her, protecting her as he struggled to see anything past the blurriness of his tears. A strangled yell ripping from his throat moments later. "Come back (Y/N), Please come back. I love you, please" cried Crosshair, hugging her as tightly as he could, not wanting to let her go. Not wanting to do anything other than be there with her.

Hunter had found him moment later, having heard his strangled yell. He lent down besides the pair, closing (Y/N)'s dull (E/C) eyes for the last time. Placing a hand on his brother's shoulder moments later, trying to be strong for his grieving young brother, knowing his heart had broken beyond repair. He couldn't bring himself to say anything to Crosshair, nor did he protest when Crosshair reached for her remaining lightsaber, tinted crimson with blood.

End of Flashback

Crosshair soon shifted, reaching for the box on the small shelf behind his pillow. With a heavy sigh he opened the box, (Y/N)'s lightsaber still inside. He'd made a point of preserving it, even more so when it was all he had left of her now. He cleaned it whenever he cleaned his rifle, it being part of his routine. If he was feeling down before a mission, he'd take the lightsaber with him, so how it always helped to make him feel a little better. Crosshair liked to believe (Y/N) was with him when he had the lightsaber.

"I'll make the galaxy a better place (Y/N). I'll make sure they don't forget you" whispered Crosshair, knowing his choice to stay with the empire, wasn't one he made easily. It was difficult, yet his brothers had helped with his choice. They had saved him when Kamino was destroyed, yet the distrust had been obvious. "One day I'll avenge you my runi" promised Crosshair, recalling when he had retrieved the (Y/N)'s lightsaber from his old barracks in Tipoca city, his determination had kicked in to save it. Hunter had put it in his pack, returning it once they reached the landing pad. Yet the real and only reason Crosshair had remained with the empire was revenge, they took his runi away from him, took his home away, turned his brothers against him and tried to kill him. His only motivation was to ensure the empire would fall, even if doing so cost him his life.

"We'll see each other again (Y/N). Reunited when its all over" whispered Crosshair, as he left his barracks on board the star destroyer he'd been assigned to. Determined to remind the oblivious imperials of what they had helped take away and destroy. Determined to do what he thought was right, in the name of his lost love. Determined to see through what he hoped would be his redemption, or at least that's what he believed he was doing by helping Rex located their brothers still within the empire, Wolffe, Cody, Howzer even Dogma, as well as passing on information regarding future plans for the remaining clones, besides being fazed out of service.

"In this heart of mine. You'll live for a lifetime" uttered Crosshair, his attention being drawn to the photo he held on to now. One taken during the war, it was clear it was during one of the many assignments. (Y/N) held on to her blue lightsabers, he was just behind her, his rifle one her shoulder as he aimed at something in his sights. (Y/N) actually looked like she was covering him while he destroyed something in the far distance. With that Crosshair returning his focus to the self given mission of bringing the empire down, no matter the cost.

Translation: Runi = Soul

#crosshair x jedi reader #crosshair #ct-9904 #star wars oneshot #oneshot #star wars #jedi reader #order 66 #implied death #grief #the bad batch

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milkiane · 4 years ago

Text

revelations and confessions

pairings: regulus black x reader

warnings: mentions of food, mention of abuse, manipulative parents, getting tied up, jily, implied wolfstar

word count: 5548

note: for @rcwenaclaw’s writing challenge — this is my favorite fic so far <3 s/o to @iwritesiriusly and @hellounicorn for listening to me rant and and rave about y/n and reggie, u’re the best mwah

“... and you would be married to the crowned heir of grimmauld by the end of the month,” your father declared.

if you have been listening to what you’ve been blindly agreeing to, you would have had the opportunity to assert your own appraisals of the sudden betrothal.

you choked on your food, earning concerned gasps and theatrical pats by the maids, “‘m fine, ‘m fine,”

your parents stared at you with iffy looks as you cleared your throat, “i thought we’ve agreed years ago that i wouldn’t be betrothed to some high-strung bloke i’ve never met before?”

your mother pursed her lips before giving you a well-mannered response, “well, dear, we ought to make some amends with that agreement,”

you just stared at her with a blank expression so she continued, “and we believe that it would be for the amelioration of our country, considering that the blacks are quite exceptional and-”

“and rich?” you smiled derisively, cutting her off.

your father looked around the royal maids and guards around the dining room, “may you excuse us for a moment?” to which they nodded and left.

he sighed, “look, y/n, i’m aware that you’re upset-”

you scoffed, “i am more than upset, father. you agreed that i will be married on my own time, on my own accord,”

“and i am the king, you ought to meet my commands.” your father bellowed, slamming the silver utensils on the table, making you and your mother flinch.

he cleared his throat, calming himself down, “tell your matron to arrange your attire for this week, we must meet the blacks tomorrow evening at the grand chateau, and i shan’t hear any more complaints.”

“yes, father,” you mumbled, excusing yourself from the table to make your way towards your bedroom, eyes becoming glassy from the upcoming tears.

you arrived at the chateau a few hours before the royal gathering with the blacks, meaning you would have enough time to devise an escape plan.

you haven’t spoken to your parents unless you’re absolutely required to, you know that you shouldn’t be disobeying them, but they should have known from just acknowledging your mindset and behavior.

you weren’t the usual prim and proper princess, no. you are your own person, you’re noble when strictly necessary, but, in all honesty, your personality was far from dainty.

you wouldn’t have chosen to have this life if you could. as fun as it was to play dress up in magnificent ball gowns, you would have chosen a life full of adventures, skinny jeans, crop tops, and dyed hair instead.

the matron knocked on your door, bringing in the gorgeous dress robes that you’re supposed to wear for later evening.

you gratefully smiled at her, asking her to give yourself some time to prepare by yourself until the formal reception.

as you hung it over with your other dresses and gowns, you walked towards the balcony, breathing in some fresh air. it had a clear view of the beautiful gardens of the chateau, the same balconies from your left and right.

you flopped yourself down on the queen-sized bed, staring at the ceiling as you thought of possible ways to avoid the betrothal.

none of your ideas sounded good enough, so you turned on the television in front of your bed to distract yourself from the inevitable proposal.

flipping through the channels, you stopped to watch audrey hepburn’s roman holiday.

when you’ve watched the scene where she snuck out of the castle, an idea popped up in your head. you knew it was impossible, of course, but it was worth a shot.

you glanced at the clock, you still had at least an hour and a half before the matron would come back to get you.

grabbing the satchel you’ve bought at a fair once, you made your way towards the elegant bathroom. you shuffled through the things, you knew that if your mother found out about your clandestine possessions, she would go calling you atrocious for merlin knows how long.

you slipped on your cargo shorts and a halter top. you stared at your long hair, you knew that if you wanted to slip away easily from the guards’ line of vision, you had to make some adjustments.

you grabbed the scissors from the corner of the countertop, taking a deep breath before snipping a lengthy portion.

you let out a hushed squeal, laughing as you stared at the chopped-off hair. you continued cropping and trimming until your hair became an uneven bob cut.

not bad, you grinned, cutting a few more strands to add curtain bangs, impeccable.

you scuffled deeper into the bag, your hand retrieving a bagged pink wig. perfect.

you started packing a few essential needs in your satchel.

you looked out the window, the sun had set an hour ago, meaning it was dark out. which also means it would be easier for you to sneak out.

you had at least ten minutes before meeting the blacks so you immediately stared across the room, looking for something to act as a rope.

stopping at the closet of gowns, you groaned in reluctance. you loved your gowns too much but you wouldn’t risk getting married, so you grabbed the scissors, ripping them up and tying them together.

once you’ve ensured that it was tight enough, you fastened it around the huge handles of the door and threw your makeshift rope out the balcony.

when you heard the whispers and footsteps of people coming you hastily grabbed your bag and ran towards the balcony.

you carefully grabbed onto the silk, lowering yourself down.

a noise from your right caught your attention, making you freeze. you snapped your head to the balcony next to you and made eye contact with a boy doing the same thing.

your prolonged eye contact was cut short when the doors to your room burst open, making you yelp in surprise as your rope had a sudden shift.

you could hear your matron holler for the guards, so you briskly lowered yourself faster, the friction of the silk burning against your hands.

you landed on your feet the same time as the mysterious guy did.

he made a run for it, dodging the bushes and flowers across the garden. his trousers not giving him any justice.

you were not too far behind him, thanking merlin that your yoga and workout lessons paid off.

the yells of the guards caught your attention, surrounding you and the man in the middle.

they all pointed their blades at you, making you gulp.

there goes your escape plan.

“which one of you has the princess?” a guard shouted, shifting the lamp between you and him. each one of the men slowly closing in on you.

that’s when you realized that they weren’t your palace guards. they were merely the chateau’s security.

“does it look like we have a princess with us?” the boy beside you refuted, gesturing between the both of you.

ten guards.

one of them asked their superintendent, “what was the description given?”

“long h/c hair, s/c skin, e/c eyes, last seen wearing a peach nightgown,”

they turned their gaze back at you, one of them approaching you to take a good look, “wait a minute,”

you sucked in a breath, but before any of you could make a move, the guy grabbed your hand and ran, swerving through the distracted guards.

“oi!”

but you already had a head start, you were out of the gates and into the forest the moment they called for backup.

you ran, and ran, and ran.

the adrenaline coursing in your veins had done nothing to stop you from running, it made you feel so free, so alleviated.

so alleviated that you didn’t notice the huge rock that made you stumble, but before you could even hit the ground, the man caught your arm, pulling you against him.

and you were certain that time stopped when you finally locked eyes with him. specks of green and blue surrounding his alluring hazel eyes.

they said that when you meet someone for the first time, they would either be nothing more than another face amongst the crowds of memories or a face that would be burning at the back of your mind for a long time.

it was the latter.

the moonlight was shining over the both of you, the soft light making him look so ethereal. his celestial facial structure giving the famed sculptures a run for their money.

regulus looked at you in awe, neglecting the fact that you almost fell flat on your face. his gaze fell onto your gentle e/c eyes, the smooth arch of your nose, and the sleek curve of the cupid’s bow on your lips.

you would’ve loved staying in that position, admiring the young man for the first time every chance you would be given, but alas, the distant shouts of the guards forbade you from doing it any longer.

“who are you, anyway?” the guy asked. after successfully carrying out your escape plan, with your pink wig askew, he offered to buy you a mug of warm butterbeer at the nearby pub; the leaky cauldron.

you removed the wig from your head’s hold, ruffling your hair a bit to soothe the headache. your eyes searched around the room, looking for a possible new name.

“erm,” guest singer, liane moonshine, “miliane…” holyhead harpies quidditch poster, “harper.” you finished, “miliane harper, yeah,”

he eyed you suspiciously as he took a sip from his drink, “alright, miliane harper, what’re you doing sneaking out’f the princess’ bedroom like that?”

“i could ask you the same thing, stranger,” you mused, fiddling with the straps of your satchel.

“regulus,” he said, “call me regulus,”

“what were you doing sneaking out next door, regulus?”

“i asked you first,” he said, shooting you a pointed look.

thinking of a reasonable explanation, you mumbled, “stealing?” you winced, cursing yourself for hesitating.

“a’right, here’s the deal, miliane harper, because i know f’myself that you aren’t who you claim to be and you certainly weren’t there to steal,” he whispered, leaning in ‘til his face was a few inches away from yours, “now, ‘m gonna ask you one last time, who. are. you?”

you gulped, faintly murmuring your answer, “the crowned heiress of diagon.”

“salazar,” regulus cursed, “you’re princess y/n?”

you shushed him, shoving your hand to cover his mouth as a few heads turned to look at the both of you. you were certain that your parents have sent a search team to look for you by now.

“yes, but be quiet, would you?” you hissed, retracting your hand to curtain your face with your hair, avoiding the curious gazes amongst the patrons.

he blinked at you, leaning back on his chair. he observed your appearance for a bit before snorting, “your hair, it’s uneven!”

your face flushed a deep shade of red, your hand automatically clutching your hair. you scowled at him, “how long have you been aching to tell me that?”

he chuckled, “ever since you took off your wig,” seeing that you rolled your eyes, he continued, “don’t worry, y/n, you look quite beauteous, if i must say.”

“i don’t require you to flatter me, regulus,” you scoffed, grabbing your mug to take a drink, though before the rim of the mug reached your lips, regulus set a few galleons down on the table and spoke up, “as fun as it was to meet you, your highness, i’ve got some places to go,”

“what?”

“good luck with this endeavor of yours, but i mustn’t risk being one of your accomplices,” he quipped, wearing his sweater, “fare thee well.”

it took you a moment to finish your drink and grab your things before leaving the low-lit pub. your eyes searched amongst the throng of people, trying to catch the sight of his brunette curls.

you hurried beside him, trying to avoid bumping into the others. you grew quite fond of the handsome lad who ran with you, despite the fact that he was still nothing but an enigma to you.

“mind if i join you?” you sought, clasping your hands in front of you, walking side-by-side with him.

regulus groaned silently, he looked down at you and sarcastically replied, “it’s a free country,”

you rolled your eyes and responded with a retort of your own, “actually, it’s a monarchy occupied by foreign oppressors.”

he ignored your sardonic comment and asked you a question to defuse the gauche atmosphere, “why’d you run away, princess?”

you looked at him, “y’know, i’m not really obliged to answer your question,”

“i… am well aware of that,” he huffed amusingly, “but given the fact that we’re going merlin knows where, i’d rather have a conversation going than walking in utter silence.”

regulus had a gist of why you ran away, assuming that you had the same reason as him.

you laughed softly before staring at your white tennis shoes, “‘ve been betrothed, and i was s’pposed to meet the lucky bloke who’ll have my hand in marriage,”

regulus swallowed the lump in his throat.

“what about you, regulus?” you asked, “why were you running away?”

“oh,” he let out a nervous laugh, “i- stealing.”

you gave him a keen look, “i used that excuse not too long ago, if you’ve forgotten,”

he smiled tensely, “f’real though, the prince owed me something, and i’d be pleased if he returned the favor.”

you huffed, not sure if you’d believe him, but thankfully for regulus, you caught sight of your palace guards questioning some people about your whereabouts, “shit,”

you immediately linked your arm with his and whispered, “palace guards, let’s go. just- act normal,”

he carefully unhooked your hold, opting to snake his arm around your waist instead, evidently making both of you flustered.

you let out a sigh of relief when you passed by them without causing any havoc, though it was short-lived when one of them called out, “excuse me, sir, ma’am?”

the both of you continued walking, slightly hurrying your steps.

regulus hauled a carriage and helped you get in, “godric’s hollow, please,”

the guards left standing behind, one of them writing down the descriptions of the suspicious couple and the carriage they’re in.

“where are we?” you asked, looking up at the lovely cottage amongst the rows of houses.

regulus sighed, “godric’s hollow,” he walked up from the gate and knocked on their doorstep, stepping back to wait for someone to open the door.

you hummed, “alright, but what exactly’re we doing here?”

merlin must’ve been on his side again because before he could even reply, a beautiful red-headed woman opened the door.

she must’ve been taken aback for a moment because her eyebrows shot up and mouth agape. she stuttered, “i- regulus, hey,”

“evans,” he nodded politely, “is, erm, sirius with you?”

she licked her lips, “it’s actually potter now,” she showed her wedding ring, “and uhm, yes, give me a moment.”

she shuffled back inside, letting the door open but didn’t make a move to invite you in.

“she’s lovely,” you jutted out your bottom lip.

“reggie?” another man, another attractive man, whom you were assuming was sirius, inquired.

“sirius,” he greeted.

the tension was so thick that you could feel it enveloping you with warmth. or that may just be because of the additional presence of the bespectacled man behind the redhead.

“i don’t mean to be rude but are we all going to just stand in here,” you awkwardly shuffled on your feet, “or are you gonna let us in?”

sirius looked at you in wonder, “i- oh, yes, yeah!”

the man whose presence was still looming over, blinked at him, a small smile tugging at his lips as he huffed amusingly at his best friend, letting you in. you looked around the house, the atmosphere giving you a sense of comfort and a feeling of home you’ve never felt.

“james potter,” he grinned at you, “and this is my lovely wife, lily.”

“y/n l/n, the heiress of dia--” you paused, “actually, it’s just y/n. sorry, force of habit.” you chuckled sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as they looked at you in surprise.

you wondered if you could trust that they wouldn’t send you back to your kingdom.

“you’re the crowned princess of diagon?” lily spluttered.

you smiled bashfully, “i may or may not be?”

“merlin, what’re you doing here? guards’re all over the place, knocking on doors n’all,” sirius remarked, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i also may or may not have ran away?” you grinned, scrunching your nose which both the black brothers found quite endearing.

“i would love to continue the chit chat, but d’you mind letting us stay here for a while?” regulus interrupted, but before they could even answer, a knock was heard from the door, “diagon sovereignty wards, we’ve got a couple of questions to ask.”

you cursed silently, sirius and lily quietly ushered you into the living room whilst james went to get the door.

“good evening, sir, we’ve been alerted that you’ve had some contact with these people?” a guard asked, pulling up a sketch of you and regulus.

james smiled warmly, “i’m sorry, but i reckon you’ve got the wrong person. ‘tis just me and my wife, and my best mate in ‘ere,”

they nodded politely, “that’ll be all. thank you, sir, have a great evening.”

as soon as he closed the door, james sauntered back into the living room, looking at the worrying looks on your and regulus’ faces.

he and lily exchanged glances before she smiled softly, “i’ll go prepare the guest room.”

it was deep into the night, the potter household was surrounded by a quiet and serene atmosphere as the people living in it had already dozed off, yet you and regulus were far from drifting off to a dreamy slumber.

both of you had your backs against the headboard of the queen-sized bed you were supposed to share, staring into the void of nothingness as you let the comfortable aura rage around you.

“regulus?” you whispered. as if once you’ve spoken even a tad bit louder, the brittleness of the atmosphere would break.

he turned to look at you, “yeah?”

“what’s your biggest regret in life?” you wondered, voice laced with drowsiness. the adrenaline from a while ago slowly fading away, now being replaced with exhaustion.

regulus pondered for a moment. he had a lot of regrets, letting his parents abuse him and sirius, letting sirius just leave him alone in the dark and lonely castle, not living his best childhood. he had plenty, and lying to you was one of them.

he hummed, “i suppose being a coward,”

you fluffed your pillows and lowered yourself on the bed. you yawned, “i don’t think you’re a coward, regulus. after all, you just ran away with a princess.”

regulus looked at you fondly, watching as you slowly succumbed to sleep. he smiled softly, “yeah,”

your stay with the potters, and sirius, has been wonderful. you’ve felt more at home in godric’s hollow than in your palace. no amount of grandeur wealth would compare to the amount of love and belonging you’ve felt in your sojourn.

regulus has successfully managed to keep their mouths shut about him being a prince as well. the conversation and intention still went unnoticed by you.

you and lily have been the bestest of friends. the sweet girl that made you feel more at home than anyone else could, an evident friendship blossoming into a charming one.

james and sirius welcomed you into their arms as if you were one of their long-lost mates, and quite literally if you must say. they locked you beneath their armpits and ruffled your hair one game night.

you were convinced that james was the human embodiment of a ball of sunshine, never failing to put a smile on your faces. sirius had more of a flirty demeanor, which you’ve brushed off with a quip or two of your own.

“does the princess have a prince charming or do i have to step up?”

“not every prince is charming, sirius.”

and regulus— you’ve grown closer to regulus than you’ve ever had with anyone, getting to know each other more, spending more late nights talking about everything and nothing, and not that any of you would admit it, but inevitably falling in love was part of the list.

you and lily were in her room, she was lending you some clothes to wear as all of you have made a plan to go to the market fair in town.

james was on the phone with remus, asking him to meet up at the place whilst sirius and regulus were in the living room, catching up after a few years of not seeing each other.

sirius has grown quite fond of the princess. not that he was catching feelings, but a date wouldn’t sound too bad, if he must say, so he asked his brother, “d’you reckon y/n would fancy a date w’me? maybe i could bring her to hogsmeade,”

and to say that he was dumbstruck when he heard that was an understatement, “what? no, you can’t,”

sirius looked at him with a confused expression, “how come?”

regulus hesitated, “she’s… betrothed.”

the eldest black brother scoffed, “yeah, t’you, and she doesn’t even know that you’re that bloke,”

regulus shook his head, sitting up straight as he heard your giggles from upstairs, “just- don’t, sirius.”

padfoot grinned at his brother in realization, “by the love of merlin! you love her, don’t you?” he teased, bumping their shoulders together.

“let’s go, handsomes, i’m not getting any younger here!” you laughed. regulus thought you looked angelic, the white dress hugging your curves in the most surreal way possible, the smile on your face proving that any blue day would get better with just a glimpse of it.

“this isn’t over, reggie,” sirius sang mockingly, getting up and linking his arm with yours.

the market fair in godric’s hollow is incredibly enchanting. fairy lights were hanging above the booths, multitudes of colorful stalls, the smell of the amazing street food, and the bubbly spirits of the people mingling around had you in a state of awe.

you went in separate groups, lily with james, sirius went off to find remus, and you were stuck with regulus— not that you were complaining, really.

you dragged regulus by one of the stalls that sold clothes, wanting to buy a few to avoid borrowing more from lily.

you were currently strolling around with him, your shopping bags in his hold as he insisted to carry them for you.

whilst you stopped to look at the fancy daggers, regulus caught sight of a gorgeous necklace. convincing himself that it would only take a few minutes, he left your side and onto the booth to buy the jewelry for you.

once you’ve managed to choose a design, you paid for the dagger and strapped it on your thigh with the holster you bought, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

when he didn’t reply, you looked up to where he was standing just a few moments ago to find that he wasn’t by your side.

you crooned your neck to look around but instead of seeing him, you saw your palace guards slowly approaching you.

you cursed, turning around and running away from them, making them step up quickly and ran after you.

“regulus!” you called out, hoping that he’ll hear you.

“regulus!” you tried once more, and he finally heard you. he immediately pocketed the paid necklace and dropped the bags as he tried to run after you, “y/n!” but it was too late.

the guards were already surrounding you, two of them managed to carry you to a carriage while you thrashed around, “let me go! i don’t want to go back, please!” you cried, “regulus!”

regulus was running around the big plaza, trying to figure out where your voice was coming from.

the carriage was already a menacing dot as it continued to advance forward, leaving regulus frustrated and broken.

“what were you thinking running away like that?” your father barked, pacing back and forth on the castle’s lounge, “d’you know how ashamed we were when we found out that you snuck off? even more so whe-”

your father stopped talking when your mother gave him a stern look. an expression you know all too well when they didn’t want you to know something.

“it came to our attention that you ran away with regulus, yes?” your mother asked, giving you a tense smile.

you didn’t answer. looking at your parents with hatred as your eyes blurred with tears.

she sighed, “well, if you must know, he was the one who called for the guards. he knew about the huge amount of payment if someone gave you up. he contacted the palace guards before you even stepped foot in that repugnant marketplace.”

“no,” you let out a teary laughed, “regulus would never do that,”

he would never. especially after all those moments you’ve shared, those constant touches, the sneaky eye contacts. he would never.

“no? then where was he when you called for him?” your mother scoffed, a sly smirk on her face.

you glared at them, taking a shaky breath, “i-”

she tutted, “i’m not done just yet, my dear daughter. you will be married to lord riddle, on the contrary, seeing that the walburga and orion’s son was quite… negligent,”

“i will not be married to anyone!” you objected, “if there’s anyone i’d rather get married to, it would be regulus.”

your mother let out a cackle, “quite amusing if you asked me, dear, because regulus was the prince you were supposed to marry!”

you froze, managing to croak out a small, “what?”

your father chuckled, “oh, don’t tell me he didn’t tell you that?”

you swallowed the forming lump in your throat, “i hope you rot in hell.”

your mother scowled at you, “guards! bring her to the room.”

“i don’t need bodyguards surrounding me all the time, mother,” you spat, “i may be of the royal bloodline, but i am no weakling.”

“... and don’t forget to tie her up,” she smirked.

before you could even react, you were hauled up by your arms, screaming at them to let you go.

you made sure to give them a hard time while they walked up the stairs. once arriving at your room, they threw you on the carpeted floor with a right thump.

you flailed around, whimpering as they tied your arms and legs, “stop, stop, stop. please,” but they paid you no mind, leaving you alone in the dark.

after a few hours of trying to remove the rope from your limbs, and a few chaffings later, you ultimately gave up on trying. you didn’t know what your parents’ plan was but you were quite grateful for the noise and crashing outside your door.

crawling a bit towards your door, your forearm brushed against something rough on your thighs. you cursed yourself for being dense, and lifted your dress a bit, carefully grabbing your new rose gold dagger from its holster.

when you heard the jingling of your door, you hastily tried to cut the rope from your wrists.

you cussed as you dropped it on the floor, you tried to get a hold of it once more when the door suddenly burst open.

“y/n!” regulus breathed out in relief, he rushed by your side, grabbing your fallen dagger and cutting the ropes. your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, before turning your gaze to the man you’ve fallen in love with, the same man who lied to you.

sirius approached the both of you, trying to tell you to hurry up before the guards caught up with them, “let’s go!”

“are you alright?” regulus asked, cupping your face in his hands.

you glared at him, rubbing your arms to soothe the burning, “don’t touch me.”

you stood up, grabbing the dagger from his hand, and placed it back on your holster. you snatched your satchel from the floor and started packing a few necessities that could fit in.

regulus looked at you in confusion and hurt, standing up as you shuffled around the room, “what’s wrong?”

you ignored him, shoving past him, and made your way towards sirius, who just shrugged at his brother.

the three of you sneaked past the guards and the members of the order, successfully escaping and meeting up with lily and james at the entrance.

“oh, merlin!” lily brought you in a hug, “are you alright, y/n?”

“lily,” you breathed out, hugging her back. you closed your eyes in relief, letting out a teary laugh, “i’m alright, don’t worry,”

“we’ve got to go, they’ll catch up soon enough if we don’t leave,” james said, “‘m sure frank and the rest got ‘em distracted for a while.”

arriving back at the potter household, they let you retire back at the guest room, regulus following in suit.

“hey, y/n, what’s wrong?” regulus asked, grabbing your arm so you’re facing him.

you looked at him in anger and hurt, “you lied to me!”

“wha- what did i lie about? i don’t understand,” regulus was dumbstruck, he didn’t know what you were talking about until he remembered all about the betrothal. he looked down in guilt.

“stop the act, regulus. you were the one i was supposed to marry,” you whispered, “why did you lie to me?”

regulus sighed, sitting down on the bed as he ran a hand through his hair, “i was scared, alright? i was scared because i fell for you, y/n, and when i found out that you didn’t want to marry me, i didn’t know what to do… so i lied because i was afraid that you’d go if i told you that i was the prince.”

“and it’s terrifying how i would’ve given you the stars if you asked,” he chuckled softly, “but i chose to keep that to myself because that’s how much of a coward i am…”

“reg, i didn’t even know that it was you,” you frowned, expression softening as you sat down beside him, “and i frankly don’t care about the stars, or anything at all, honestly, because all i want is you, regulus,”

“don’t be so sure about that, y/n,” he breathed out, “if you’ve known that it was me, you wouldn’t agree to marry me.”

“you’re right,” you nodded, smiling softly, “i wouldn’t marry you because of some stupid betrothal, i’d marry you because i love you, regulus black, and i know f’myself that you’re the man that i would love to spend the rest of my life with.”

he looked at you with adoration and love in his eyes, a small smile adorning his lips.

regulus tucked the loose strand of hair behind your hair, his eyes shifting from your eyes down to your lips, “may i?”

not trusting your words, you nodded instead, slowly leaning in. regulus cupped the side of your face with his hand, your hand running through his brown curls as the both of you drew closer. eyes fluttering close as you felt the soft, warmth of his lips caress your own.

after a few moments, he pulled away slowly, pressing his forehead against your own, smiling softly at the result of the sudden revelations and confessions.

“let’s run away, regulus,” you whispered, “away from here and our wretched parents.”

“yeah?” he chuckled softly, “where’d you want to go, m’love?”

“italy.”

“... and they lived happily ever after.” you smiled softly.

“mum, what happened in italy?” your daughter asked, hugging her teddy bear as she looked up at you and regulus with her doe eyes.

regulus hummed, “they settled down in florence, italy, with the help of the marauders-”

“dad, who are the marauders?” your son questioned, exchanging looks with his sister and his cousin, harry.

“they’re the best friends of the prince and princess, orion,” james grinned, snaking his arm around lily’s waist.

“what happened next, aunt y/n?”

“well, they had a small wedding by the beach, they traveled around the world, had kids, and are now telling their stories to their adorable kids and godson,” you smiled, “and the said kids and godson should be asleep in the next five minutes.”

the three of them let out simultaneous groans. you, regulus, and the marauders had small smiles on your faces, finding the situation amusing.

“good night, my darlings, we love you,” you and regulus kissed their foreheads and tucked them in bed, as lily and james did the same with harry.

after ensuring that they were fast asleep, you and the rest went back down to the living room.

sirius grinned, grabbing the firewhiskeys and crisps out of the bag, “they finally went to sleep?”

“yeah,” you smiled, fiddling with the moonstone necklace regulus bought you from the fair, “guess our story worked perfectly fine as a bedtime tale, didn’t it, reggie?”

“indeed it did, m’love,” he kissed the top of your head, sitting down on the couch for your traditional game night.

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @weasleyyy @oldschoolkiddo @accioweaslcy @inglourious-imagines @peterssweetpea @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies @sw33tgirl @remugoodgirl @tatestripedsweater @gryffindorgirly @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

marauders taglist: @sweetnspicysimp @cherie-draco @eunoniaa @acosmis-t @amrtxntias @cedrics-grave @dracosgoodgirl @msmb

#scheduled #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #regulus #black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus x you #regulus x y/n #regulus x reader #regulus black imagine #regulus black fluff #regulus black one shot #regulus black blurb #regulus black angst #sophiasfam #useramourtentiaa #tuserliane

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gojology · 4 years ago

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Job Benefits. (Part One)

new beginnings ‧₊˚✩彡. - chapter one.

you can find part two here : part two : undesirable

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader

warnings : cursing

wordcount : 1960

a/n : something that i’ve been working on for a while now. this is self indulgent as all hell and i’m starting a new series n idk when it’ll end necessarily but ceo gojo is all i need in my life. also i have like 300 million requests to go through but i PROMISE i’ll get them done! i just need to finish my valentines event thingy and i’ll be open!

it has come to my attention that gojo is his surname and i’m too lazy to fix anything other then the first name basis part im so sorry LOl

It’s no secret that you like working the office. Even as a child you enjoyed the formal atmosphere when you walked into your parent’s workplace, and even better, you enjoyed organizing stuff. Growing up, your favorite pass time was cleaning and organizing which caused you to excel in school, coupled with your natural smarts. Your peers would constantly tease you, telling you that you were a boring kid- but hey, you’d be making lots of money, and what better job would there be for you, aside from being someone’s secretary? Those were the first words that came across your mind as soon as you stepped into the prestigious building, heels rhythmically hitting the stainless floor, suitcase in hand. It was also the first lie that you’d tell yourself in there. You had known about this company even as a child. One that sold just about everything, the most notable being luxurious clothing, but something the company was also well known for? How attractive the family was. Sure it was a bit weird, but in defense of the general public their appearances were rare, only once in a while you’d see the family on TV. Waving in their limousine, blowing kisses and doing things rich people do, or maybe ignoring the cheering crowd of journalists and news reporters, hell like you knew. Catching glimpses of the wildly white haired family was something every paparazzi threw themselves at, and picking up a magazine or going to search something on the internet would be sure to be chock full of pictures of the esteemed family. The highlight of the family being the son, just because of how handsome he was, and also happened to be the most publicly known and fawned over family member- Gojo fucking Satoru. Luckily for you, he was your boss, so you could probably reveal the tiniest of secrets and make major bank. Unluckily for you, he was childish as all hell, not to mention you found childish people incredibly annoying. The worst thing? You were his secretary. That could only spell out doom for a man like him, and a woman like you, who only wanted to get business done and nothing else. You two truly did not mix. Two months prior, you had gotten the job and was finally excited to have stable income after graduating. Your hirers didn’t tell you anything about having to babysit a manchild though. And so, that’s how you found yourself sitting in the comfortable plush leather office chair, fumbling under the piles of paperwork and fan letters, cursing your boss’s name under your breath for being so unconcerned with work. Scheduling appointments, interviews, sending e-mails of unacceptance to eager authors asking to write an auto-biography, that was your life. You’d be content with it if your boss was normal. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s like he heard you think. “(Y/N)-chan~!” you hear a familiar sing-songy voice down the rather short hallway. Your office resided right next to his, and it would only take him 30 seconds or so to walk down to your door, presumably to annoy the hell out of you. You grunt, blowing a stray hair out of your face. This also meant that you could hear him sing from his office, even through the thick walls. Choosing to ignore it, you instead furiously typed to another business executive’s secretary who had just emailed you about a meeting between Gojo and- well you weren’t quite sure who. “(Y/N)-chan~ I know you hear me, don’t you know it’s disrespectful to not listen to your seniors?” his playful, deep voice was growing closer, and you straighten your back, sighing. You didn’t sign up to be a daycare worker, yet this was what you found yourself doing most of the time. “I’m sorry, Satoru-sama, please instill me with your great knowledge, oh wise one.” rolling your eyes and rubbing your temples, you glance up from your laptop, bracing yourself for whatever would happen next. Gojo leaned on the frame of your door, head ducking slightly. He was way too tall to walk under it without any issue. He was unnecessarily calm though, normally he’d be jumping around your office, making a mess of things, but his body language told otherwise. He was slacking off from his duties, obviously, so you weren’t too sure why he’d be acting so... Chill. With his arms crossed, he gave you a mischievous side eye. Growing impatient, you stand up, your knuckles grinding against the tabletop. Your brow knitted together as he peered down on you, almost tauntingly, and you hated it. “Listen, boss. I have a lot to do today, for you, might I add as I am your secretary- and if you’re going to sit around I don’t think I’ll get to these emails and phone calls and everything fast enough. May I kindly assist you with anything? If not I’ll have to ask you to go back to... Whatever you were doing.” Gojo looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, like he didn’t expect such a sassy remark. “Oh my, sweetie. Someone has a naughty mouth... To your boss of all people? How mean! I don’t think I remember putting, ‘allowed to be rude to the Satoru clan’ down on the job benefits.. What’s with the formal tone as well? So unnecessary, just be yourself when you’re talking to me.” He sauntered closer to your desk, and your breath hitched, this was one of the first times you’d seen him up close like this, and you swore that you could hear your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest. You don’t know what that could mean; but what you did know was that you wanted to slap him or punch a hole into the glass window right behind you and throw him off the 15 floor building. Leaning in close to your ear, he whispered: “Or, if you wanna stick with the business voice- call me sir. Got that?” You nod before looking down at your desk, feeling your body heat up for seemingly no particular reason. Did this guy have any knowledge of a private bubble? Whatever, this was your superior. If it was any boss you’d probably be fired by now. You were lucky to be forgiven. “Yes, sir. May I comment on something... Er, sir?” “I’m all ears.” standing back up from leaning over your incredibly messy desk, you looked up at him, he looked down at you in response, with beady little “innocent” eyes through his circular shades. “I didn’t mean to be sassy, I only wish for this relationship to be professional and nothing else.... I, um, truly do apologize and I ask for your forgiveness.” you studied the wall as you say this, fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your pencil skirt. It was a bit awkward to talk to him as if he wasn’t a kid, but it did feel certainly refreshing. “Is that so?” you turn your head to look back at him as a sign of respect, an eyebrow of his is raised, and a smug smirk is playing at his lips. He talked with such an aura of arrogance around him, you instantly regret being respectful. Yet, you restrain yourself from slapping that stupid smirk off his stupidly handsome face. Why did all the handsome ones have to be so annoying? Fuck, no, that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. Even though it was only in your mind, you felt so embarrassed, and had no idea why. It wasn’t like he could read your thoughts, and it was just a mindless compliment, nothing flirtatious about it. Finally, he spoke. “Aw. (Y/N), I knew we picked well when we hired you. So respectful and professional! What more can I ask for out of a secretary? I humbly accept your apology- but first please do something for me.” he whistled in the other direction as he picked up one of your cute stationary pens, hastily sliding it into his blazer’s pockets. “Yes, sir?” you brace yourself for impact yet again. Not noticing that he stole one of your favorite pens. “Slack off a little. None of my secretaries ever worked this hard. I’ll slide in an extra hour for lunch, you can go watch a movie or something-” “No. Satoru. Contrary to your other secretaries, I actually enjoy work.” standing up now, you stomp over to Gojo, who was now giggling like a 7 year old girl. You hadn’t realized that you had called him by his first name, but honorifics wasn’t on your mind right now. Your chest stuck out as you shoved him out of your office with your bare hands, maybe as a way of looking more threatening, as if that’d ever work against him. “Get out of my office!” You hope your eyes are staring daggers, if he ever looked back at you. Gojo looked at you like he was shocked, tipping his shades down just slightly as you were pushing him out into the hallway. As if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, so he had to see it with his actual eyes- but eventually laughed before accepting his eventual fate. “On a first name basis now, aren’t we? You’re straightforward! I like straightforward girls though, it works out in your favor.” “Shut it.” He made sure to stiffen once in a while just to piss you off so that you couldn’t push him as easily, and before long he was back to his office. “Cya (Y/N)!” giving you a wave and a wink, he grinned. “I’ll be sure to visit you again, your office is fun!” That was just one of the unusual interactions that Gojo Satoru had with you, but you knew now that it certainly wouldn’t be the last. ‧₊˚✩彡. It didn’t take you long before you realized your favorite pen was gone. Almost immediately, you figured out who the thief was. It was evident by now that your relationship between you and your boss wasn’t normal, to say the least. You just couldn’t quite wrap your head around why he stole a cute carrot pen, it certainly wasn’t his style. Well, you weren’t quite sure honestly, but the way the magazine front covers posed him was... Sexual. Maybe the hot guy liked cute carrot pens and was too scared to buy them by himself, but, it was 2021. Toxic masculinity was basically extinct. This wasn’t on his mind when he stole your pen, though. Gojo Satoru was smart when he wanted to be. To be quite honest, he just wanted to annoy you more. It made him curious, how could one enjoy work? And be cute at the same time? The logic made no sense to him. Attending meetings, doing interviews- this was all very boring work to Satoru, and he couldn’t wrap his head around that you enjoyed that. He hadn’t asked to inherit the company, but yet here he was now. Shit, maybe he’d ask you if you wanted the company. He yawned before drinking his coffee, just how he liked it before taking a sip he straightened his tie, just to make sure he looked extra clean and fresh when you busted down the door, ruffling his fluffy white hair as he did so. Gojo hated the work environment, just to be straightforward. One thing he did enjoy was the complementary luxury coffee machine, alongside several sugar packets. Placing his impossibly long stick-like legs onto the table, he sighed happily. Cute girl being his secretary, drinking yummy coffee, the sun rays warming up the back of his head, he was truly living the life. And then he heard it. Loud steps against the tile floor. And then, his door flung open.

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thekisforkeats · 3 years ago

Text

The Way You Say My Name

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set immediately post-MAG 22. Martin is trans and Jon is amab non-binary.

CWs: Guilt, self-recrimination, worms (mentioned), arguments, shouting, crying, lying (Martin lying about his CV still), transphobia (mentioned), misgendering (mentioned), child abuse (mention of Martin Blackwood's mother)

Summary: Just after MAG 22, Jon apologizes for his treatment of Martin over the past few months. Or tries to, anyway. It's hard to apologize to someone when you don't understand exactly what it is you've done to upset them.

(Of course, once Jon's apologized and Martin's relaxing, well... that's when Jon will finally notice he actually likes Martin, isn't it? Not that he's going to admit to that, even to himself.)

Shoutout to the Martin Blackwood Lovers Discord Server, without whom I would not have written this up and posted it. ;) Jon’s dialogue was (mostly) written by @marianfuckinghawke.

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

“Recording ends.”

Jon reached out and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. He sighed and looked at his phone. The message from Jane Prentiss was still glowing on the screen. He ran a hand through his short hair, aware he was mussing the grey-streaked black and deciding he didn’t care.

He had listened to Martin’s account of the encounter with Jane Prentiss with trepidation and worry. Now he could feel his face settling into something more drawn with concern. First, concern for his two assistants who were out of the Archive at the moment. Second, concern for Martin. The man had gotten himself into this mess because of Jon’s words. Due diligence. Was he really such a hardass that he had put one of his subordinates in harm’s way? How had he not realized that it might come to this?

Martin sat fidgeting, shifting in his seat, and Jon could feel the other man’s soft brown eyes on him. He had the look of a frightened, cornered animal and it cut Jon to the quick. He had done this. Jon was responsible for the man’s state, and he had to figure out how to make it better.

There was silence for a solid three minutes. Then Martin opened his mouth to say, “So if I’m going to be--”

Jon started speaking at exactly the same time. “So obviously you’re--” He blinked and said, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, you go,” Martin said, raising his hands and waving them rapidly.

“No. It’s alright… go ahead,” Jon replied at the exact same time, then frowned.

Martin cleared his throat, then seemed to gather his courage. “Well. I was going to say. If I’m going to be staying here, I’ll need… things. Like, uhh, there’s a cot, but I’ll need, like… a toothbrush? I mean, you don’t have a stash of those sitting around, do you?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“No, I do not,” Jon replied. “Nor do you have a proper change of clothing… you can hardly wear the same outfit for however long this will take, and you won’t want to sleep in what you’re wearing.” He had a sudden mental image of Martin sleeping naked, and cleared his throat while he shoved it away. Hardly an appropriate thought about a co-worker, even if it wasn’t remotely sexual. “We will have to go out and get such things for you… perhaps after I brief Tim and Sasha on the situation.”

Martin nodded. “There’s a room that might be, umm… did you know one of the rooms that’s filled with boxes is supposed to be the break room?” He gave that self-deprecating laugh again. “‘Course you know that, stupid, what am I saying…” He glanced aside, cheeks flushing. “Umm. Anyway. Umm. It’s bigger than the room you’ve got the cot in? If… if… I’m going to be staying here… I could clean it out… make it livable, maybe, umm, get some snacks and tea and things in, and there’d be more room for extra cots… in case you need somewhere to stay late or… something…” A pause. “Or not! Or just. You know. I’ll just. Have lots of time, so. I can. Clean. The break room.”

Jon did not, in fact, know that they’d had a break room at all. It had been frustrating to have everyone going up to the Admin break room on the ground floor, and he’d said so more than once. No, wait… had someone told him, and had he just told them off about clearing the room out?

He was suddenly horribly aware of how many times he’d griped at Martin for going up there to make tea that he had then gone ahead and drunk. How had he been such a prick to this man?

When Jon had started as Head Archivist, he’d had all sorts of plans for team morale, bonding exercises, and the like. He’d always hated them personally but they were the sort of thing bosses were supposed to do. The trouble was that all of his “how best to run the Archives as a team” ideas had flown right out of his head once he’d gotten down there and found himself at a desk where a woman had maybe died, struggling to record statements, dealing with doggy messes, and that damned persistent feeling of being watched.

Well, now was as good a time as any to start acting the way he should have all along.

“Martin… we will clean the break room. Together. As a group.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He really was going to look a mess. “It is a communal space, it will be a communal job.” He added quickly, “Yes, I know you’ll be here more than the rest of us, but I want us all involved. We need…” He sighed. Time to apologize. “I have been… less supportive of you than I should. And…” He swallowed, aware of the flush rising on his cheeks. “I feel I must apologize. So… I am sorry. But we should do more together, especially given that circumstances have escalated.”

Martin blinked at him for a moment. “You’re… sorry. For… being less… supportive than you should have been.” There was a hard-to-read undercurrent in his tone.

“For being… rude to you… and for punishing you…” Jon replied. “Unjustly.” He gestured to the recorder. “All of this… happened because of your adherence to my instructions…” He frowned. “So. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Martin snapped, “at least you’re finally realizing that it was… unjust.” He glared at Jon, who suddenly felt pinned to the spot by eyes that were no longer soft but had gone hard as agates.

Jon blinked at Martin. “Are… are you alright?” He was apologizing! He couldn’t be messing that up this badly, could he?

Martin drew a long breath in through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, in a high-pitched, clipped tone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to stand abruptly, pushing away from the desk, and in that same tone, “Well, you’d better get to… briefing people, then. I’ll just… go see how far my paycheck can stretch in Chelsea.” His tone was dripping with bitterness by the end.

Jon stood up. “Martin!” He was vaguely aware of saying it in the same irritated tone he always used for the man’s name, aware that Martin visibly flinched at the word, and tried to moderate his tone. “What is going on? I am apologizing! Is… am I missing something?” He moved around the desk to try to be sure Martin didn’t just leave without finishing the conversation.

“No,” Martin said, stopping while facing the door, tone still a good two octaves above normal. “No, it’s fine. You’re apologizing, and that’s good.” His whole frame was stiff, though, and his tone practically screamed “lying.”

Jon couldn’t read people all that well, but even he could read the signs Martin was giving off. “While your words are clear, your body language says quite otherwise.” He tried to moderate his tone again, but he couldn’t help sounding mildly irritated. He didn’t like being lied to, especially concerning his own actions, and he wasn’t sure what he had done incorrectly in this situation. “Now will you stop and talk to me?”

Martin turned away from the door, faced Jon, jaw set firmly. “What do you want me to say, Jon? Do you want me to… to forgive you? To say ‘oh, sure, you’re sorry, so that makes up for the last six months where you’ve made me want to quit my job every day?’ Am I supposed to… to… just… oh, well, there’s danger, so now you’ve realized I’m an actual person, now you’re going to stop kicking me around, now you’re going to pitch in to help around here as I’m not already the one spending all his time trying to clean up the mess while Tim and Sasha run out to research things so you don’t have to send anyone to double-check my work? Never mind that I’ve been trapped for two weeks, I could’ve been dead and none of you bothered to check on me!”

Martin was all but shouting by the end of the diatribe, every line of him stiff and furious, and Jon was suddenly very aware of the fact that Martin was taller and bigger than he was. He cringed away from Martin, took a step back. “I… I…” He turned away to his desk, grabbed his phone. “Here…” he said, handing it to Martin. “Look!” The phone would solve the problem, if Martin could just see… “There… I… just… please…”

The moment Jon had cringed away Martin had hunched his shoulders, deliberately making himself smaller. Now he was taking long, deep breaths, his expression ashamed. He reached out to take the phone from Jon.

The display was still on the screen of Jon’s message history with Martin. Before the last message from Jane Prentiss was a long list of messages from Jon--numerous messages inquiring about Martin’s health, worried and concerned. He had linked articles about foods to eat when feeling ill, then when he’d realized some of those might be hard for Martin to make alone, found new links that had easier recipes.

There were also, Jon knew, greyed-out deleted messages.

Martin, know that your presence is missed here at the Archives. I am wishing you a quick recovery.

I know it’s sudden, but I find myself missing you. Just thought you should know.

And others, so many others, as Jon had tried to figure out how to pierce the wall built by the texts he’d been getting back from what he now knew was Jane Prentiss, asking to be left alone.

As Jon watched Martin reading the messages he nervously bounced in place, one arm folded over his chest to hold the other. He could feel his skin glowing from embarrassment and he wasn’t even sure why. The blush faded, however, as he watched Martin. Watched the anger fade, and realized what lay underneath. The pain that had been underlying that anger, the way it lifted as Martin read through the message history--it was like a revelation. Martin must have walked in here convinced nobody at his place of employment really cared about him, and Jon realized that that was, indeed, what he must usually think, if something as simple as text messages was making something like hope bloom on his face.

It occurred to Jon, suddenly, that nobody had checked on Martin. For two weeks. No friends, no family. Nobody had even noticed the man was gone.

Jon had to fix this. Somehow. And not by wrapping Martin up in a fierce hug like he very much wanted to; that would not be appreciated from the man’s asshole boss. Even if Martin looked like he really, really needed a hug.

By the time Martin handed the phone back to Jon, his breathing was shaky and unsteady. He dropped back into the chair, like his legs suddenly weren’t working. “S-sorry,” he managed in the barest of whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s… my line,” Jon said. “I am sorry. I should have said more to make it clear… you are a valued member of this team.” He shook his head, wincing at how… canned that line sounded, but pushed on. “I should have said it at least once. And… I never did. I held you at arm’s length and ostracized you. And… I understand how you felt all that time now…” He sighed. “And… yes, it may have taken this incident to make me realize how terrible a person I’ve been to you since… since you started working here.”

Martin stared down at his hands; Jon could see he was crying, but silently, without sniffling or sobbing. “Why?” he finally managed. He looked up at Jon. “Why? What did I… do? I mean… there was the whole ‘dog’ business at the beginning… what, do you hate dogs that much?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone.”

“No… I mean, sure I’m more of a cat person, but… no… I don’t hate dogs.” Jon frowned. “I… I’ve given that a lot of thought these past two weeks and I think I figured it out.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you I was angry with.” He took a breath. “I was angry at Elias. I like to have a sense of who I work with, to get to know them before I get into anything serious.” Oh, no, wait, that sounded… he hadn’t meant it like… work. He’d meant work! No, he was overthinking that; Martin knew he meant work. He stammered for a moment, though. “It’s… part of who I am… as a person.

Jon took a breath, to steady himself. Focus on the apology. “When Elias… placed you here without telling or consulting me about the selection process, it… felt like a betrayal. I felt that agency over my department had been taken out of my hands. And yes… I know he runs the Institute, but he should have at least consulted me about who is in my department.”

He dropped his head and reached to take a box of tissues from the side of the desk, to slide them towards Martin. An olive branch. “I took out that anger and frustration on you. And that was wrong, I know that now.”

“Not like I wanted to be here either,” Martin mumbled, reaching out for a tissue and wiping at his eyes. It didn’t do much to stop the tears. “I mean, I didn’t even want the damn library job, I j-just…” He stumbled, stammering, “It’s… it’s harder to get a position with a degree in parapsychology than you might think.” He sniffled. “B-but… even on top of that… you and Tim and Sasha, you’re all friends already, you requested them. Even if Tim and Sasha and I get along they don’t really know me, and you… well…” He sighed. “When Elias said I was going to work for Jonathan Sims I just about freaked out. You’ve got a… reputation, you know? I just… I knew it’d be… lonely down here, and it really has been.” There was a furrow between his brows now as he looked at Jon.

Jon frowned. He’d known he had a reputation around the Institute, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him right now. “Then let us work on fixing that. Starting now. Like I said, we need to be working together more, improve the… office atmosphere. I… have come to admire your dedication to your work. ‘Due diligence,’ as you put it.”

Martin regarded him quietly for a moment. Then he said, “The thing that really bothers me… I don’t… I don’t think you’d understand.”

Jon frowned. Then, finally, softly, “Try me. You might be surprised.”

Martin swallowed. “I… I’m trans,” he blurted. “Like, I was… I had a girl’s name, when I was younger. Figured out I was a guy when I was a teenager, started hormones, and… well…” He took a deep breath. “My mum’s never approved, you know? She’s always been… difficult, she’s… sometimes she’ll… well, I mean, you know how parents will… say your name, right? Like, when you’ve… disappointed them.”

Jon’s frown deepened. He did not, in fact, know how parents said one’s name, but he could remember his grandmother saying Jonathan in tones of deepest disapproval when he’d come back from wandering off. So he nodded; he understood the feeling, at least.

Martin wiped at his eyes again. “The way she said my name… it made me hate my name. My deadname, I mean. But it… helped me realize I was trans, because when I thought about something else I’d want to be called, I came up with ‘Martin.’ And… and I’m kind of glad sometimes, that she… misgenders me, and refuses to call me Martin, because it means she’ll never, ever say it in that… disappointed tone. I have never regretted that choice, not once, until…”

Martin took in a long, shuddering breath, then straightened himself, looking Jon right in the eye. Like he knew what he was going to say wouldn’t go over well, but he had to say it. “The way you say my name, when you snap at me? It’s exactly like my mother says my deadname. And nobody has ever made me regret that choice. Not… ever.” He swallowed. “Until I met you.”

Jon stared at Martin for a long moment, horrified. He was non-binary himself, and yet he’d never changed his name, never even asked people to call him by different pronouns although he might have preferred it; he’d never had the courage to do so. He’d always been terrified of what people might think of him. Yet here was Martin, strong enough to change himself outwardly despite his mother’s disapproval, strong enough to keep coming in every day to deal with a boss who made him regret the name he’d chosen for himself.

In that moment, Jon felt very much like he did not deserve Martin Blackwood. That the Institute did not deserve Martin Blackwood. They would have to do better, somehow.

Finally he managed, “I’m… I didn’t know. I--” He curled his mouth in disgust. How did one respond to that? Do better? That was only a marginally acceptable platitude. “I will endeavor to change my tone.” He didn’t like that any better, but it was the best he could do.

Jon really, really wanted to offer Martin a hug. The man looked like he needed one. Tim would have offered a hug, workplace hugs could be acceptable… but, no, Jon was Martin’s boss, and Martin had just said how much he hated Jon--because if Jon reminded Martin of the mother who deliberately misgendered him, then he had to hate Jon--and who would want a hug from someone they hated?

There was something he could do to help, though. To pay Martin back, as it were. So he, too, straightened, and said, “Well. You were talking about how far your paycheck will stretch in Chelsea, but I think that will be quite unnecessary. Given that you encountered Jane Prentiss while in the line of duty, as it were, I think we can expense your essentials to the Institute without too much trouble.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “W-wait… won’t that… I mean… won’t Mr. Bouchard be… upset about that?”

Jon actually smirked. “Don’t you worry about Elias; I fully intend to take out my irritation about his habits as a supervisor on him instead of you from here on out.” Not directly, of course, but Elias would be irritated by the entire setup, and some petty part of Jon enjoyed that thought.

Martin was staring at Jon now. “I… I wouldn’t want you to… get in trouble…”

Jon waved a hand. “It’s the least I can do.” He stood. “Let’s get to the shops for toiletries before they close and then we can see about getting some clothing delivered. And, ahh, do you have any… prescriptions you’ll need…?” He was thinking about hormones. “I suppose I could send Tim ‘round to your flat, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger either…”

Martin stood, hesitating. “I’ll… figure all that out. It’s alright. Really.”

Jon came around the desk to grasp Martin by the arms and look up at him, intently. It was the closest thing to a hug he’d let himself get to. “Martin,” he said, as gently as he could manage, with as much respect as he could manage, “you put yourself in danger because of the way your superiors at this Institute have treated you. Let me at least begin to partly repay that debt. Please.”

Martin was blinking down at him. “Uh… umm… aren’t we having… Mr. Bouchard repay the debt…?”

Jon smiled up at Martin as he dropped his arms. "Ahh, but we’re not going to ask Elias to come help clear out the breakroom. Can you imagine him moving boxes?” He could feel the smile edging into a grin. “His arms would break just from trying to pick one up.”

Martin had started to smile, hesitantly. That was what Jon had been going for; he hadn’t realized how much he actually liked Martin’s smile until he hadn’t been around for two weeks. “I-I mean… you’re not the biggest guy yourself… you might have the same problem.”

“Mmm, fair,” Jon replied, “but I am willing to scrub a floor if I must.”

Martin’s smile widened. “Y-yeah, I can’t imagine… Elias… scrubbing a floor.” He giggled, suddenly. “He probably pays people to do that stuff. He… he’d probably have been hopeless stuck in his flat for two weeks.”

Jon laughed at the mental image of Elias Bouchard stuck in a flat, living off canned meals, a laugh so full he actually threw his head back a bit. “Good lord, Elias, having to live off tinned peaches? Can... you... imagine?”

“H-he’d… probably… start shouting for Rosie.” Martin was giggling so hard he could barely get the words out. He put on a bad posh accent and said, “‘Rosie, why do we have all these tinned peaches? I did not approve this budget!’”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter, both reaching out to the other to hold themselves up. There was a moment, as the laughter waned, that their eyes met, and Jon felt something swoop and flutter in his gut. Martin had such a nice smile, and such a pleasant laugh, and it would be wonderful to have both around more often, and it was making him a little dizzy if he was being honest. When was the last time he’d felt that swoop and flutter? Georgie? Briefly, with Tim?

No, no, that was the laughter and the proximity. That was all. They were bonding over dislike of Elias. That was all.

At least he’d managed to clear the air.

Jon straightened, and kept smiling as he turned toward the door. “Come along, then, Martin,” he said, and again deliberately infused the word with as much respect as he could muster. “Let’s get to the shops.”

Martin nodded. “Thanks for this, Jon,” he said, and oh dear there was another swoop at the way Martin said his name. Had he always said it like that? Had Jon just not noticed? “Really. Thank you.”

Jon turned away to school his expression. This would not do. He was not going to let himself feel any more… swoops for a subordinate. It just wouldn’t do. No matter how nice of a smile he had. He did not have a crush on Martin, because he could not have a crush on Martin, and that was that.

Feeling a little better--it was always a relief, sorting out his emotions--Jon headed out to help Martin get settled into the Archives.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #canon tma fic #send help i'm in too deep #i owe the discord server at least two more fics already #GUYS HELP

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aquarii-writes · 4 years ago

Text

History on repeat(Dream x f!reader)

Ngl this was inspired by a dnf piece on tik tok. While I don't ship it the art was beautiful and the song attached inspired me to write this. This also includes my headcanons for Dream/his parents and I'll elaborate on it in a different post if enough people ask lmao

Notes: I should mention to look at my 'DSMP headcanons' especially Dream's part because that's where I kinda explain that I don't believe that Dream himself is a dreamon but that his mask contains one. I also used Dream's real name as his fathers name. I don't really like using the dsmp members real names if it's not in their user but I had to think of a name

WARNINGS: none I can think of aside from death and stuff of similar manners

WC:1,005

Genre: Angstyy

Two people sat together along the shoreline of a river. The colors of the sunset danced on the water. Turning the already beautiful area ethereal. Warm summer air tickled the woman; her blonde hair jumped with the wind.

"You're so beautiful [REDACTED]" the man spoke. His amber eyes held a love for the woman beside him; his lovely wife. Her green cloak acted as a pillow for her.

"You're too kind my darling" a smile played on the woman's lips. Her mask discarded beside her. The painted smile similar to the one she held.

"I love you with all my heart" a smile danced on the mans face. His lovely wife sat up and hugged him. Falling back into the grass the happy couple basked in one another. Masks long forgotten beside them. "Stay with me forever [REDACTED]?"

"Of course my darling dream" the twos faces were close as the wife spoke. It felt as though time sat there frozen to preserve the lasting moment.

Smiling towards you Dream held out his arms to get you to come towards him. As you got near Dream pulled you on top of him. His arms circling around your waist.

~~~

"Dream~" your voice was loving. Dreams mask was off as he watched you jump in the stream water. The sun was setting over the horizon and the light gave an other worldly glow to you and the water.

Playing with the locks of hair that fell into your grasp, Dream watched you. A deep seeded longing in his eyes. Out here away from everything was when Dream was the most caring. His affections unrestricted when he wasn't in the eyes of his friends. When he could easily sneak away.

Though the future had many plans for the two of you, but here in this moment the future could wait.

"I would do anything for you (y/n)" Dream's amber eyes looked like the sun. Specks of gold shined like they were directly in the sun. Nodding to his statement you kissed the man before you. An adoring hum escaped him.

Pulling away you mumbled out a response. "I love you with all my heart~"

"Will you stay with me forever?" with a teasing smile Dream rubbed your sides: tickling you along the way.

"Of course my darling Dream" an unknown feeling of deja vu came over the two. Seems as though something similar happened in the past.

~~~

"My dream!!' [REDACTED] screamed for her husband. "Don't take him away! Please!," the woman covered her small sons ears. The child didn't know what was happening. huddling into his mother arms the woman kept screaming for her husband.

Huddled under her cloak the small boy held a hand over his mother stomach and whispered to it. The boys father struggled against the men who held him away from his family. "CLAY! LET HIM GO! He didn't mean it.." [REDACTED] dropped to the ground crying. Her son hugging his mother. "Oh my baby Dream"

Dream's mother held onto him for dear life. Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his father get taken to the gallows. As a final goodbye his father threw towards them.

Crawling away from his mother, Dream grabbed the mask; his fathers mask. The plastic was cracked in a few placed, and some of the paint was chipped, but it was probably the last thing he would ever have of his fathers.

"Please just let my husband go" [REDACTED]'s mask was similarly painted though the tears the spilt from under it spoke another story. "It was the Dreamons who did it.. not my Clay.. not my lovely dreamer.." her whimpers drew her son back over to her.

"Mommy what's happening to daddy?" Dream wouldn't get an answer from her. Just wails and whimpers about how cruel the world was.

~~~

"Dream what did you do..," Tommy and Tubbo huddled behind you. A fearful look settled in your eyes. Dream's mask was just that, a mask. Behind it he held no remorse for what he had done and what he said.

He did plan on killing Tubbo, but the look in your eyes made his thoughts stutter. Should he not kill Tubbo? When Dream said he doesn't care about anyone it planted a seed in your heart. Did he really not love you anymore?

Dream didn't answer you. All he did was stare at you through the mask. "Take off your damn mask and answer me Dream" when your voice jumped at him all Dream could do was stare. He didn't talk and he didn't react. "Why aren't you answering me?! Dream WHY did you do it?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Like hell you didn't mean to!" your tone was sharp. It made the boys behind you move back as you came forward to hold Dream's face. This felt too familiar. Why does it feel so familiar?

Knitted brows went unnoticed behind the mask. His annoyed expression hidden to the world; to you. His everything. Before he lost it he wanted to marry you. He even joked about you being his wife. His darling wife.

"Do you not care about me anymore? After everything that's happened between us?" a certain sadness pushed your pain to him. It was the same sorrow his mother screamed from the top of her lungs. That's why it felt so familiar.

A desolate look decorated your (e/c) eyes. The same eyes he would've fought wars so see happy. The very eyes he believed he would love forever.

"It's not my fault- sweetheart it's not my fault" his words became more rushed as Sam pulled Dream away. Dragging him to Pandora's Vault. All the way to his box.

The misery and heartache Dream saw on your face reminded him of his mother. The heartbreak he never wanted to see again.

~~~

{REDACTED] held a baby in her arms as she watched her son play on the hill with her friends son. The baby girl in her arms slept peacefully as she spoke to her friend beside her.

Puffy had been a good friend of [REDACTED] for a long time now. "Puffy you have to promise me something"

"Anything [REDACTED]" Puffy watched the baby in her friends arms. The poor thing had been born months after her fathers hanging. The family had to go into hiding.

"Please after tonight take my babies with you.... I don't think I can carry on much longer with out my Clay.." despair was the only way Puffy could describe her once vibrant friend.

The woman's once vibrant green eyes now only held melancholy. The satchel that sat beside her only contained a few things; one thing being Clay's mask.

"Dream my beloved!" [REDACTED] called out for her boy. The mask that once adorned her face constantly had been vacant since her husband died.

Running up to his momma Dream reached out to hold his baby sister. Passing baby Drista [REDACTED] kissed her sons head before pulling something from her satchel.

"Dream listen to me. The world is a cruel and it will hurt you-" holding out Clay's mask to her son said everything to the small boy. Giving baby Drista to Puffy, Dream took his fathers mask away from his mother. "Wear this.. it was your fathers..," a sadistic smile rested on his mothers face.

It scared him, but it was the first smile he saw from her since his father died.

"Okay mommy" Dream slipped on the mask his father once wore and winced. It felt like strings were licking his face. It felt wrong. This wasn't his mask to be keeping was it?

~~~

The prison vault was deafening. Nothing was a really annoying sound when all that surrounded you was lava and crying obsidian. Though he had one thing to look forward to.

You promised to see him today. His lovely wife. Well you weren't married. He fucked up that chance when he lost himself to the mask. The dreamons that whispered to him constantly.

Ever since he came in here the whispers stopped. Except for when they speak about you.

The pistoning sound of the bridge coming brought Dream from his head. A sadistic smile grew on him. Throwing off the mask the threads retreated back into the plastic.

"(y/n) my beloved!" a crazed look adorned Dream's face as he looked at you. His beloved wife. "I love you so much~"

"Dream.." with a heavy heart you held Dream's face. His eyes held a look of longing love.

"Dream love.. listen to me. The world is cruel.. and it's going to hurt," your voice cracked as you held Dream's hands. Worry filled him as Dream dragged you towards him.

Pushing back Dream dug around in the chest of his room. A ring sat gently between his fingers.

"Wear this... it'll protect you.." a hopeful look held on to Dream's face. All his love and adoration for you.

"I'm sorry Dream.. I love you so much but maybe it's better if we split ways.... I.. why do I trust you so much? Your hands are scarred with murder, but I trust them completely.." crumpling to the ground you sobbed. Conflictions and pain battering against you for weeks.

Dream held you. He had seen this all before. History was repeating. He witnessed this happen between his parents. The very thing he never wanted to happen to him did. He's losing the love of his life.

Why does history have to repeat?

#mcyt imagine #dsmp imagine #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dream x reader #dream imagine

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 6

Haha, I’m so excited for this chapter. Please let me know what y’all think! Also a huge thank you to everyone who has liked/commented/reblogged. You guys deserve all the love and cookies possible!

Warnings: swearing, fluff (i think that’s it, sorry if i miss something)

Words: 7300 (i feel like my chapters keep getting longer. oops?)

Tag List: @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls

Series Masterlist

The aroma of coffee surrounded Kari like a warm, comforting blanket. The café was just the perfect amount of busy, there were a few other tables occupied but without feeling cramped or overwhelming. The lunch rush was just beginning, indicated by the number of patrons standing in line to order now.

The brunette sipped on her latte as she slowly swiped through the pictures on Gyda's phone. The two were finally meeting up for an early lunch and coffee after a yoga class. Gyda had been gushing about the trip she just returned from to Phnom Penh, telling stories of the week she spent there and letting Kari slide through the pictures on her phone.

"These are just gorgeous. Gods, you have the best job, I swear."

Gyda laughed, picking at the muffin in front of her. "I know. I can't imagine doing anything else though."

"When do you leave again?"

"Mmmm…. I’m not sure yet. The company is wanting me to go to Vancouver, British Columbia next. I might wait until the end of September to go. I'm not sure. Either way, it won't be for at least a month. Depends on how soon I want to go visit mom."

"Why wouldn't you want to go soon?" Kari perked up at the mention of Gyda's mother. She knew the two were close, but all she really knew about Lagertha was from what Ivar told her.

"I'm not a fan of her new boyfriend. Sorry, she prefers the term "lover". Kalf works for her, specifically with contacts from their Mediterranean partners and overseeing some of the shipments."

"Why don't you like him?" She swiped to the next image, a stunning picture of the Cambodian royal palace.

The blonde waved her hand vaguely, as if swatting a fly. "He hasn't done anything; I just don't like him."

"That's fair. Does he treat your mom well?"

"Yeah. She just has shit luck with men and I'm worried how this one will turn out." She sipped on her coffee, gazing out the nearby window for a moment.

Kari turned back to the phone, guessing there was more that Gyda was not saying. Not that she needed to know. No, she had enough drama in her life currently and his name was Ivar.

Both women lounged in the wooden café chairs, still in their yoga clothes, having come straight from the studio. Except Gyda changed her footwear, losing the sandals for a pair of wedge heels that made her long legs look like skyscrapers. It was hard not to envy Gyda's body, and Torvi for that matter. They both had the perfect hourglass figure, with all the right assets and gorgeously braided, blonde hair. Maybe it was some standard that women around the Lothbroks had perfect bodies. It made Kari wonder why Ivar paid her any attention then. Her body was far from perfect. Her chest side was decent, but she always thought her hips and thighs were too large. Most likely leftover critiques from her mother who not-so-lovingly would say Kari was pear-shaped and needed to focus on losing all that extra or no man would want her. Not that she was trying to get a man. Over the past two years she had finally come to embrace her body and was learning to be comfortable in her own skin. Though some days were better than others. It was still difficult to watch Gyda receive appreciative looks from many of the patrons as they passed by their table and know none of them would even give her a second glance. The blonde was effortlessly beautiful. Perhaps there was a way for her to teach Kari that.

Suddenly Gyda zeroed in on the brunette with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Speaking about men…."

"Are you going on a date?"

Gyda snorted, with an amused grin on her face. "Hell no. I'm not interested in a relationship right now. I am perfectly fine being single. Stop changing the subject. There is a little something going around the Lothbrok rumor mill that Ivar took you on a date to Casa mia, Maggiore."

"Not a date, it was just as friends." Kari clarified.

She gave her an incredulous look. "Just friends?"

"Yes."

Gyda narrowed her eyes at her.

"What? We went out to Casa mia, Maggiore and then I convinced him to go to Masterpiece. After he dropped me back off at home. Nothing happened."

"Right…." Gyda hummed. "So, it was a date."

Kari dropped her face into her hands with a groan. "Not a date. Just friends."

"Whatever you say. Just know Ivar doesn't take just anyone to his favorite restaurant. Hell, I think he only took his ex there once in the ten months they were dating. He usually only goes with Aslaug."

"Oh? Um, I didn't know…" The brunette hated how she perked up at this new information. It should not matter hearing that he never took anyone, that it really was his favorite restaurant and he wanted to share it with her. In their texting, he made reference to when they went back, what food he wanted her to try next. Something apparently, he was not even inclined to do with an ex. No, none of that should matter. But it did, and the way her heart swelled at the realization only proved that to her.

"Clearly he really likes you to take you there. Do you like him?"

"Sure, he's a good friend."

Gyda sighed dramatically, tipping her head back. "You're killing me, Kari! Fine! When was this not-date? A week ago?"

"Eight days, yeah."

"Have you hung out since then?"

"Yeah, he picked me up once and we went out for dinner. Another time, he took me out on my lunch break. He had to go on a business trip so I haven't seen him in…. three days?"

"Right. I'm guessing he's blowing up your phone while he's been gone?"

Kari took a sip of her drink as she mumbled, "sort of." The truth was they were practically texting non-stop. It was mostly discussions, and arguments on his side, of superficial things like TV shows, the proper time to wake up in the morning and her lack of clothing that was more than yoga attire. Other times they sent memes back and forth or links to funny YouTube clips. Kari never realized how lonely she was before Ivar thrust himself into her life with all the force and subtlety of a rocket.

"What does that mean?" Gyda eyed her for a long moment before she gasped and slapped the table. "Oh shit! Is he sending you dick pics?"

Kari choked on air. After hacking for a couple of seconds, tears coming to her eyes because of the action, she vigorously shook her head. "No! No! Ewww....no! We keep sending stupid memes to each other and talking about where we should go out next. That's it. I promise."

The blonde laughed loudly at Kari's reaction, who fiddled with her earring, face burning with embarrassment. The two sat quietly for a couple of minutes, sipping their drinks and watching the line of lunch patrons increase.

"So…. it kind of sounds like you're dating."

"No, we're just friends. Why can't friends just hang out?" Kari tried to argue. The beginning tendrils of annoyance creeping in at constantly having to defend their friendship.

Gyda stared at her. "Have you made-out?"

A blush colored Kari's cheeks before she could figure out a good enough lie, giving away the truth.

"What?! How often?!" Her enthusiastic friend cried, before waving her hand once again. "Never mind. Listen, he's taking you out to his favorite restaurant. He is clearly going out of his way to spend time with you. He is texting you! You don't realize how big of a deal this is for him! He generally hates people. I'm positive he has murder plans for most of those he is forced to be around. Does he know you're just friends? Because to me, it doesn't sound like it."

Kari covered her face with her hands, tears of frustration springing to her eyes. Ivar and her could only be friends, that was what she promised herself. If he knew her, the real her…. it would never happen. He would never want her. So it was best to remain friends, to protect both of them from the inevitability that anything more would never happen. Even though their line of friendship was blurring…. and that was the worst part. She found herself wishing to continue to blur that line, even when she knew it would only end in disaster. Taking a deep breath, she could smell his cologne, a scent she had become so used to now. Her mind could easily conjure the feeling of being in his arms, his mouth on hers as she gave in under his touch. She cared for him, deep down she knew more than a friend. Although he could annoy her to no end, she enjoyed his presence, his humor, that vulnerable side that peeked out occasionally, how he made her feel safe and beautiful.

Now hearing Gyda pointedly telling her that Ivar was treating her as more than a friend. It left her speechless and wondering if she was making a mistake.

Gyda’s tone softened when she spoke next. "Why are you so set on just friends?"

"I just…. I don't want to date right now. After my last relationship, I just want to focus on myself."

"That's fair but listen, he isn't going to wait around for you forever."

"I know. I don't want him too." She admitted, tugging on her earring. Though her statement was the truth, it still tasted bitter on her tongue.

"Ok, but does he know that? It sounds like he’s set on you, but I'm going to warn you. Don't break his heart. He isn't the type to recover from heartbreak. His heart is already locked up more securely than Fort Knox but if you break it…."

"I promise, that isn't my intent. I just…. can't. I like him, more than I thought I would. He is funny and charming and sweet but also infuriating and demanding and I've had more fun with him than I've ever had with a guy friend before. He…. I can be myself around him and I think he can too. But I just…. It can't go further than friendship."

Gyda mulled over her words. "Alright. I don't fully understand but I get it. It's nice to hear that he's connecting with someone. None of us liked his ex. He only really spends time with family or Floki."

"I don't want to hurt him." Kari whispered.

"I know. You're too sweet to purposefully do something like that." The blonde tilted her head to the side with a slowly growing smug look. "I give it until the end of the year and you'll be naked in his bed."

"Gods! What? Why would you say that?"

"He's a Lothbrok. They always get what they want."

*****

Kari laid curled up on her full-size bed, her laptop up and watching Downton Abbey. A heating pad rested on her abdomen as she waited for the pain relievers to kick in. Most of her life she was happy with, but the one thing she would easily trade out would be the painful cramps when PMSing. The birth control she took helped out, but there was usually still one day that the dreaded cramps hit hard.

Her phone dinged. Languidly reaching over, she grabbed it from beside her pillow and opened it to check the text.

Ivar: wat r u doin?

He texted her earlier that day saying he was returning home from his sudden business trip.

Kari: nothing

Ivar: good. bts.

She groaned, slamming her face into her pillow. She did not have the energy to deal with him right now. All she wanted was to relax and eat her body weight in chocolate. After a moment of self-pity, she texted him back, hoping she could get out of whatever he had planned already.

Kari: no, I don't feel good.

Ivar: wat wrong?

Kari: nothing bad.

Sure, they had been talking daily for over a week but that did not mean she wanted to divulge her period issues to him. There were a few things she knew and one was that guys did not like talking about the menstrual cycle.

When he did not text back right away, she turned her attention back to her laptop and the TV show playing. Soon enough the magic of pain relievers and hot pads kicked in and her pain was minimal, though she had no intentions of leaving her warm cocoon. Alana was at her night class, so Kari was home alone. Not unusual really, but tonight she certainly felt the urge to lay around and do nothing.

After about twenty minutes, she heard a loud knock on her front door. Alana was not home, so it could not be any of her friends. Her neighbor, Erik, never just showed up. He always made sure to text before coming to her door. Maybe there was some kind of emergency? Or a package being dropped off? Though at this time it was certainly getting late for any kind of deliveries. Then it hit her.

Ivar.

"Ughhhh," she groaned, rolling out of her bed. For a split second she contemplated not answering it, just staying in her warm bed. She knew, though, if she did not get it, he would probably bust the door down. Maybe even set it on fire to make a point. He seemed like the type to light things on fire for fun.

As soon as she opened the front door, those intense blue eyes scanned over her body as if looking for some unseen disease. "What's wrong with you?" He barked at her, one hand still on the doorframe.

"What?" She blinked owlishly.

"You said you don't feel good." He gestured towards her, his gaze still searching. "What's wrong?"

"Um, it's nothing. Just cramps. It's better now."

"You sure? It's nothing worse?"

She was touched by his concern, the way his last questions were said in a breath of relief as if actually worried about her health. "Yeah, happens every month. I'm fine."

"Ok, good. Get changed, Hvitty and I are going to see a movie. I want you to come with us."

"Ivar, you should hang out with your brother…."

"I fucking live with him. He's fine with it. Go change."

She sighed, knowing by now there was no way she was making it back to her warm cocoon and Downton Abbey. Besides, she had missed him while he was gone and found herself wanting to spend time with him. Not that she wanted him to know that, it would only inflate his ego. "I'll only agree to come with you on two conditions."

"Fucking what?" He growled, though she could see the amusement in his eyes.

"First, I'm wearing my comfy clothes." She waved her hand at the pair of soft, black leggings she wore and the thin, slouchy sweater with the word 'beautiful' printed on it. "Second, and this is the most important condition, you have to buy me a stupid amount of chocolate."

He rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged on his lips. "If that's all, princess…."

"Oh, give me a minute. I'll think of something else… and it's not princess. It's m'lady."

"Shut up. Get your shit. I'll meet you at the car."

She laughed as she raced up to her room to grab her purse, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. The only addition was to throw on a zip up jacket that was a size too big on her. She always found movie theaters too cold to be fully comfortable without a jacket.

The vehicle waiting for her this time was a luxury SUV. She stopped for a moment in the driveway, unsure what to do. She wondered what the neighbors would think of her getting picked up in this and how many knew Lothbroks were sitting in it. Hopefully no one was paying attention. The one of the back doors opened so she headed that way. Ivar slid over and she followed him into the vehicle, closing the door behind her.

"Took you fucking long enough, m'lady."

She smirked at the nickname. "Well, you did just show up at my door and told me we were going to see a movie. At least the other times you gave me a heads up to be ready."

"Ivar, you said you text her we were coming." A man she had not noticed said. He sat across on the bench seat facing them, watching her curiously. It was now Kari noticed how both Ivar and the guy were dressed casually, both in jeans and t-shirts, though Ivar had a light jacket on also.

"She said she wasn't doing anything."

The flaxen-haired man sighed, before reaching his hand out. "Hi, I'm Hvitserk. This idiot's older brother."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Kari." She took his hand, but instead of shaking it like she expected, he turned it over and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. When he released it, he gave her a quick, flirty wink and leaned back in his seat.

Startled by his bold action, she looked at Ivar, unsure how to respond. What was with these Lothbroks and their unabashed flirting?

He had his eyes narrowed at his brother, teeth practically grinding. "Fucking touch her again." He snarled.

Hvitserk chuckled, a smug look on his boyish face. "Relax, brother. I know you don't share…. even if you're just friends." Either he was purposefully antagonizing his younger brother or did not notice the anger seething off of him.

Ivar started to lean forward but Kari wrapped her arms around his, pulling him into her. She was not about to watch a fight go down between the two. "Didn't you just get back from your trip? I thought you'd be home resting." She quickly asked, trying to distract.

After a long moment of the brothers staring at each other, Ivar with a glare and Hvitserk looking amused, the raven-haired brother leaned back. He turned his head to look at her as he answered. "You said you wanted to see me earlier, and going to see a movie isn't strenuous."

"Everything involving you is strenuous."

As soon as she muttered the words, she wished she could take them back.

A devilish grin spread across his face, those blue eyes dancing with something mischievous and forbidden. "I can show you strenuous." He shifted to hover over her, lips dangerously close to hers. "All. Night. Long." He whispered, one hand leaving a trail of fire as it slid from her thigh up to the curve of her breast. A shiver ran down her spine at the low, hungry tone and the naked want in his gaze. "You'll be begging for more of me…. to destroy that pussy and leave you completely undone and hoarse from screaming my name." His tongue flicked at her earlobe, a choked gasp leaving her mouth at the sensation. Her eyes fluttered shut on their own accord, the knot in her core tightening painfully. She both hated and loved what his touch did to her, how it gave her a taste of pleasure otherwise unknown. His nose traced her jawline as he spoke again, tone filthy, making her core ache. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, kattungen?"

She gulped, her voice coming out far more timid and needy than she wanted. "That's...um, that's nice."

Hvitserk's laughter broke the smoldering tension. Her blue-green eyes blinked rapidly as if wakening from a dream, darting to stare at the older brother before returning to the one who still lingered over her, his presence alone keeping her pinned to her seat.

"En dag, søte Kari, blir du min." Ivar whispered into her ear, then kissed her temple tenderly. After he leaned back, legs splayed out and arms across the back of the seat. A rapid conversation in that foreign language started, Hvitserk saying something that had Ivar snarking back and rolling his eyes.

The whole time, Kari focused on slowing down her breathing and trying to tamper down the warmth radiating from her core. There was no denying it, Ivar did something to her on a primal level. Her body wanted him. Even her mind wanted him. When he directed that sensual, seductive side at her, she melted like an ice cube in June. Her panties were testimony to that. Thankfully, he did not turn that powerful ability onto her frequently. She doubted they would remain 'just friends' for long if he did.

Suddenly, Ivar tugged on the sleeve of her fleece jacket, drawing her from her thoughts. "What is that?"

"Um… a jacket?"

He hummed then glanced over at his brother. "Sigurd had the same one, doesn't he, Hvitty?"

"I think so." Hvitserk ran a hand over his braids, a smile on his lips. "Didn't you set it on fire?"

Ivar waved off the question, still scrutinizing her jacket. "Whose is it?"

"Mine now." She replied, wondering what he was getting at.

"Whose was it?"

"A guy friend. He lent it to me years ago and I never gave it back."

"He's in England?"

"Yeah…"

He grunted, rubbing a hand over his mouth for a moment. "Take it off."

"Wha…. what?" She sputtered.

"Take it off. I don't want you wearing another guy's clothes."

"Ivar, this is stupid. Plus, I always get cold in movie theaters. That's why I brought it in the first place."

With a deep scowl, he tugged off his own gray, soft shell jacket. When he saw she was not moving, he tugged on her sleeve roughly. She huffed but gave in, not willing to fight him over something so childish. She slipped the fleece jacket off and placed it in her lap. Before she could stop him, Ivar snatched the jacket out of her lap and threw it on the seat to his other side. He dropped his jacket in her lap then leaned back, watching her with a serious expression. This was one of those times she wondered why she put up with him. Who cared where the origins of her clothes came from? It was comfy. Sure, it had some sentimental value but it was a nice, warm jacket.

Quickly, she slipped his gray jacket on…. and was immediately hit with his scent. A salacious side of her wondered if he would let her keep it. He always smelled incredible and having his jacket now wrapped around her, enveloping her in that…. her libido definitely woke up, begging for attention. Especially after the tease he just bestowed upon her.

"Happy?" She asked flippantly, smoothing the gray jacket down over her and trying not to be obvious with her sniffing it.

He grinned. "You look better in my clothes."

"Ugh. Is he always like this?" She turned to Hvitserk.

"I wouldn't know. He's never asked me to take my clothes off. But if you did, I'd happily oblige." He playfully winked at her.

She groaned. "You both are unbelievable. No wonder you're brothers." She looked at Ivar beside her. "Can I have my jacket back?"

He raised a single eyebrow as if surprised by her question. After a second of mutual staring, he slid over and opened the window, maintaining pointed eye contact the whole time. Before she could process what he was going to do, he balled up her jacket and threw it out the open window. Without a word, he rolled the window back up and slid over to her side again.

"What jacket?" He questioned impishly.

She stared open-mouthed at him. "Was…. was that really necessary? Gods! Why did you do that?"

"I don't want you wearing another guy's clothes." He shrugged. "If it's that big of a problem, I'll buy you some new clothes."

"That's not…. that's not the point! You can't just get rid of something of mine without my permission!"

"But it wasn't yours, it was some guy friend's."

She covered my face with her hands. Why should she expect anything different from Ivar? He had a vendetta against her clothes. With a sigh, she scooted away from him. "I feel like we need to make a list of things that are not ok for you to do."

"I'm not following some fucking list."

"Alright, I'll stop wearing clothes that belong to someone else if you promise not to throw away my clothes without my permission."

He yanked on her arm until she was at his side again, despite her half-hearted attempt for space. "You can wear my clothes anytime, especially if I can take them off of you."

"Ivar, I'm serious."

He nuzzled the crook of her neck, making her squirm. Sweetly, he pressed a kiss to her neck before leaning back. "Fine." He muttered, tucking her into his side.

She glanced over at Hvitserk, having momentarily forgotten his presence. A broad smile covered his face, highlighting his handsome features.

"I like her." He declared, meeting his brother's eye with a nod. Next he looked at her, cocking his head to the side. "What are you doing with his sorry ass?"

That earned a low growl from the youngest Lothbrok, causing Kari to jump faintly and Hvitserk's smile to grow.

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice. He showed up at my work the first time." She answered honestly, though she mostly did it to tease Ivar.

Hvitserk threw his head back with a groan before narrowing his eyes at his brother. "I told you not to stalk her!"

"What the fuck is this? Gang up on Ivar day? She wouldn't have gone out with me otherwise and afterward she said she had fun, so it's not a big deal."

Hvitserk's brown eyes met her blue-green ones with true sympathy in them. "I'm sorry, Kari. I would say he isn't normally like this but I'm guessing you know that's a damn lie by now."

She giggled, "Yeah, I do. Thank you though."

"You know, we could always ditch him and go to the movie just us."

"Oh yeah?" She tapped her chin, pretending to think the offer over. "That sounds like fun. Ivar did promise to buy me a stupid amount of chocolate though. It'd be a hard sell to pass that offer up."

"I'm sure I can come up with something." He wiggled his blond eyebrows, smiling again.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you."

Kari laughed at the look on Ivar's face. Peering up at him, she changed the subject. "What movie are we seeing?"

"Ask your new friend over there."

"Come on, Ivy. You know we're just fucking with you." Hvitserk sighed.

Ivar grumbled, looking out the window and ignoring both of them.

Hvitserk answered her question. "That new horror movie."

"Oh ok." She hoped she sounded confident but kind of wished she had known before coming. Horror movies were not her thing. As a child, she had watched 'IT' at a sleepover and decided then that purposefully being scared was something she could do without. Though knowing Ivar, he would have laughed and pushed her out the door, saying something about how she needed to watch better shit than she normally did. Maybe this one would be more action-based than real horror. She could only hope.

Thankfully, they pulled up at the movie theater soon after. The driver dropped the three off at the door, driving off after to go park and wait.

"Ivar, hold on." She tugged on his arm, forcing him to slow his steps instead of walking ahead of the other two. "Give us a minute, Hvitserk."

The blond brother gave her a quick nod. "I'll go buy some snacks."

After he walked away, she tried to meet Ivar's gaze, though he pointedly stared over her shoulder. "Hey, we're just teasing. I'm sorry if we pushed it too far. I'm really happy you asked me to come out with you and your brother. It's been years since I've gone out to the movies."

He remained stubbornly sullen, continuing to stare just over her shoulder as if her presence was a nuisance.

With a sigh, she shifted closer, taking the initiative to wrap her arms loosely around his waist. Something she had noticed during the times they had hung out was he liked touching her, not always sexually, but just casual, intimate touches. A stray thought of him being touch-starved crossed her mind.

"I also really like your jacket, it's soft and it smells like you." She softly said, peeking up at him, suddenly nervous about her forwardness.

"Yeah?" He breathed out, placing his arms around her and tugging her closer. In just that movement, she could feel the hostility drain out of him, the hard tension in his muscles easing away into a softness she was beginning to doubt many people were allowed to see.

"Since you threw my other one away, can I keep this one?" She teased, lips curling up at the edges. If he said no, she was inclined to steal it anyway. For emotional damages, of course, not because it smelled good.

"Fuck, yes, kitten." He nuzzled her neck, making her squirm in his arms and giggle at the sensation. After a moment, still chuckling, he kissed her neck then laid his forehead against hers. When he spoke, it was with a quiet hint of vulnerability, his voice just above a murmur. "You really are happy to be out with me?"

"I am." She confirmed with eyes closed, soaking in the heat from his body against hers. This moment felt so strangely intimate that she struggled between prolonging it or tearing herself away. It was in these touches, she found her resolve wavering, a longing rising within her to give in. His arms around her, just holding her, their foreheads pressed together as if grounding one another. It was euphoric and dangerous.

He broke the silence between them, tone muffled as if regretting speaking up. "We should go in; the movie is going to start soon."

"Ok. Hvitserk will probably come looking for us if we don't."

"Ah, fuck. He will."

They untangled, but as she moved to step away, he snaked his arm around her waist, tugging her next to him. When she glanced up at him, he only looked down at her in wide-eyed, mock innocence. She rolled her eyes but giggled. He was like a puppy afraid to let go of his new toy.

As they started towards the doors, she finally paid more attention to his gait. Each step was stiff but powerful. One more than one occasion she ogled him and his swagger that seemed to scream predator, a dark and deadly thing meanwhile also being so enticing. She wondered how he managed so well without his cane but decided not to bring it up.

Once they passed through the door, Ivar slowed down, pulling his phone from his pocket.

"Shit. I've got to take this. Go wait with Hvitty. Oh, here." He pulled out his wallet and handed her his credit card. "Go buy all that chocolate I promised you and drinks for us."

Normally she would protest, saying she could buy her own stuff. This time she had full intentions of spending his money on chocolate. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Are you on the menu?"

"Gods, unbelievable!" She laughed though, watching him smile genuinely. After an arrogant wink, he stepped away, bringing his phone to his ear and speaking rapidly in a foreign language. She scurried over to Hvitserk, who stood near the confessions counter.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah," she glanced over her shoulder at Ivar quickly, "he just got a phone call he said he had to take."

Hvitserk hummed, watching Ivar across the lobby with a peculiar expression.

While they waited, she ordered her snacks and the drinks for both of them. Though her doubts rapidly spun out of control as she realized she did not know what Ivar would like or want. With a pleading look thrown at him, Hvitserk gave in with a chuckle. Together they picked out snacks and drinks that would have the youngest Lothbrok's approval. Once done, they gathered their stuff and moved over to an open, standing table to continue waiting.

"While Ivar is busy, I wanted to talk to you."

"Ah, sure." She felt a tendril of dread grow in her belly. Nothing good ever came out of a conversation with such an inauspicious beginning.

"I know Ivar can be a lot, closer to fucking insane, and not many people can tolerate him." He looked down at her with brown eyes that seemed to see more than they let on. "But you're good for him. You don't take his bullshit. Fuck, he even listens to you. I could count on one hand how many people Ivar actually listens to. What makes you different?"

"I don't know. I'm just…. I don't know." She stared down at her chipped, teal fingernails, unable to meet his eyes now.

"Well whatever you are, we've already noticed a difference since you two started talking. He's not as angry, he doesn't just hole up in his room as often."

"That's good."

"Mmmm…. Ivar is my brother and I love him. But I also know his temper can get the better of him and when he is on a rampage, nothing can fucking stop him. He is easily jealous and possessive of things he deems his own…. and he clearly had staked a claim on you."

"But…. we're just friends."

"Not to him." He huffed, running a hand over his braids. After checking to make sure his brother was still on the phone, he continued, lowering his voice even more. "You seem like a nice girl so I'll only say this once. Be careful of what promises you make to him…. and if he ever does something to harm you or scare you, I want you to call me. I'll do what I can to protect you. Alright?"

She nodded, unnerved by his warning. Sure, she knew about the Lothbrok reputation. Yet this was the first time someone point blank warned her with true understanding. She was unsure if she should appreciate the warning or be terrified that he thought Ivar could hurt her.

"Give me your phone."

Silently, she handed it over. He plugged his number in and called himself. With a satisfied nod, he gave it back to her.

"Good, don't ever hesitate to call me. Besides, if my brother has his way, none of us would ever meet you. My other brothers want to meet the girl who has Ivar wrapped around her finger already." He winked at her, making her blush.

"Hvitty, stop flirting with her!"

The flaxen-haired brother grinned, as he watched his brother approach. "I'm not. Just telling her the others want to meet her."

"Fuck no." Ivar growled, coming to stand between the two.

"I'd love to meet your brothers." She commented lightly. "After hearing you talk about them, it'd be nice."

"Awww, Ivy, you talk about us?" Hvitserk teased, nudged his shoulder with his own.

"Not you, asshole."

Hvitserk laughed, pressing his forehead swiftly to Ivar's. "Come on, the movie has probably started."

Ivar and Kari followed behind Hvitserk, as he led them to the correct auditorium. Along the way, she handed Ivar a couple of the boxes of candy she bought and the drink picked out for him.

"How much fucking candy did you buy?" He grumbled, eyeing the boxes suspiciously.

"Enough. If you ask nicely, I might share." She quipped. "I even bought Heksehyl for both of us. Hvitserk said it's your favorite…. and I also got Dumle. Oh, and Guld Barre!"

"I did promise you chocolate."

She giggled. "Yes, you did."

The three of them found the auditorium and took seats off to the side. Ivar sat in the middle with Kari on his right and Hvitserk on his left. The movie had just started as they sat down, the lights and noise minimal. Though apprehensive about the movie, Kari found herself smiling at just the nostalgic feeling being here evoked. There was something so simple yet profound at being with friends, eating sweets and watching the silver screen. Let alone the darkness of the theater and the nearby munching of popcorn by others and the occasion sound of people talking. She missed this. So, she endowed to enjoy every part of this. Quietly eating her chocolates, she kept her gaze on the screen.

After some time, Kari felt a large hand on her upper thigh, inching slowly higher and higher. Jolting at the sudden feeling, she grabbed it, trying to stop its further ascent. Immediately, Ivar flipped his hand over and entwined their fingers. She tried to half-heartedly tug out of it, but he maintained a vice-like grip on her hand. In an attempt to glare at him, she swiveled in her seat to gain his attention. Only for him to remain solely focused on the screen. Rolling her eyes, she gave in, shifting back to continue watching the movie. Their fingers remained entangled.

Eventually, the chocolate lay forgotten in her lap as the images on the screen became more disturbing and graphic. A few chuckles came from Ivar and Hvitserk and whispered comments made between them. Once someone in the theater screamed as a person on the screen was suddenly killed. The abrupt sound made Kari jump, squeezing Ivar's hand. He laughed, but squeezed her hand back. Not long after, she gave up on watching the movie and just tucked her face against his shoulder. Horror movies were never her thing, the idea of purposefully being scared never appealed to her. And this movie had a thing for people being eaten alive. Not something she wanted imprinted into her brain. The thought crossed her mind that Ivar orchestrated this on purpose, since he seemed to be fully enjoying her cuddling into him. As if without concern, his head lay on top of hers, continuing to hold her hand. If she was not so concerned about having nightmares and trying to block out the hair-raising screams, she might have liked the cuddling. In this instance though, if he moved, she was going to punch him.

Once the movie ended, Ivar and Hvitserk argued about the movie- how some of the people should have died or about the graphics of the terrifying creatures. They both became more and more animated as the three of them walked out of the movie theater and towards the waiting SUV.

"What did you think, Kari?" Hvitserk asked, taking his seat across from the others, once they all piled in.

"She was scared." Ivar answered, leaning back, his arm on the back of the seat and behind her.

"That creature was eating that girl's brain while she was still alive! I did not want to see that! I'm going to have nightmares."

Smirking, Ivar tilted closer, invading her personal space. "Want me to stay with you? I'll keep you safe…. and make sure you dream of other more, pleasurable, things."

"No, you'd probably try to scare me on purpose." She accused, pushing his body away from her with a pout.

"Well, thanks for seeing it with us." Hvitserk spoke up. "Gods, Bjorn would love it. We'll have to tell him."

The youngest brother nodded before turning back to the brunette by his side. "You coming out with us for drinks now? We always get drinks after."

"No, I can't. I have to open tomorrow. I need to sleep."

"Come on, it'll be fine."

"No. I'll be getting up at 5:30. That's in like…. six hours." This was one thing she was not going to give into. He had dragged her from her bed already once tonight. He was not about to make her lose out on anymore sleep. Not everyone was able to sleep all morning like certain people.

"Next time," Hvitserk said with a shrug, a grin on his face as if amused by the interaction across from him. "I'm sure we can all go out again soon. Right, Ivy?"

Ivar snorted, "Fine. We'll drop you off."

A discussion about the movie and comparing it to others swiftly captured the two brothers' attention. Finding herself growing tired, Kari just leaned back and listened, her head resting on the back of the seat, and consequently, Ivar's arm. It was different and refreshing seeing him interact with someone he clearly trusted and cared about. His guard was down and even if some of his comments sounded more like sharp barbs, it was said without true malice. The flaxen-haired brother took each verbal jab like water off a duck's back, either making a joke out of the comment or ignoring it. Throughout the interaction, the care and respect for one another was evident, even if on the surface level it appeared dysfunctional. A smile hinted on her lips as she listened to the brothers. She hoped this was not the last time she spent time with Hvitserk. Though his warning still rang in the back of her mind, she liked him. The whole ride back, Ivar kept his arm behind her, sporadically playing with the ends of her hair.

At their arrival to her townhouse, Hvitserk said his goodbye to her in the vehicle, surprising her with a swift hug and peck on the cheek. Her face must have been quite flushed if his laughter after meant anything. Ivar grumbled something at his brother in their foreign language as he pulled her out of the SUV. To her further surprise, Ivar walked her to her front door instead of staying with his brother.

"Thanks for inviting me out." She said honestly, once they reached the door.

"Next time we'll watch something you enjoy."

Before she could second guess herself, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. Instantly, his arms went around her, pulling her closer. While the hug at the movie theater was sweet and intimate, this hug carried a different tone. It was more urgent and passionate. Her face rested on his collarbone, allowing his scent to envelope her. He laid a soft kiss to the top of her head, resting his chin there after. For a split second, she realized she never wanted to leave this moment. To be safe and warm and comforted and wanted. It was all she had ever hoped for. This was dangerous water they treaded in. With each intimate action, she could feel their friendship sailing closer and closer to the waters of something more. The gentle, easy waters of friendship would not be enough to maintain them.

With that thought in mind, she regretfully pulled back. "Goodnight." She murmured.

"God natt, kattunge."

"One of these days, you have to tell me what you're saying."

A devious smirk grew on his lips. "No, I think I like you being in suspense."

She laughed, shaking her head. They both hesitated to move, the air tense with something, as if both were waiting for the other to say or do something.

"Ok, bye." She finally said, opening her front door.

He nodded, taking a step back without removing his heated gaze off of her.

Shuddering at the feeling of his smoldering gaze, she let herself into the townhouse and made sure to lock the door behind her. Releasing a deep breath, she leaned her back against the door. What was it about him that tempted her so? He was bad news for her. Yet the more time she spent with him, the more she craved being with him.

Glancing down, she stared at his soft, gray jacket she still wore and wondered how symbolic this unintended action was.

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heavenunderthemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Line Without A Hook- Jennifer Jareau x Reader

summary: You were brought onto the team as a tech analyst to help with the new workload and find a certain blonde has taken an interest in you.

warnings: none just some angst and then some fluff

I would recommend listening to Line without a hook by Ricky Montgomery while reading bc that’s what I listened to while writing (hence the title), always, enjoy! Also go check out my other works here

"Hey, hot stuff."

Your fingers tightened around the black, government issued telephone you had been holding up to your ear, eyes flickering to Penelope who was finishing up typing in a code to help filter your search results for the unsub.

Jennifer Jareau's arrogantly smooth (in your own, professional opinion, of course) filtered through the phone with ease and successfully made your cheeks tint pink.

"Jennifer." You said curtly, and Penelope spun around in her chair, her face twinged with amusement already.

Ever since you had started working at the bureau a month ago, the team had noticed a...flirtation between you and the blonde former media liaison. You remembered your first day, how her hand had gripped yours tightly and the way her lips had quirked up when you pulled yours back just a bit too fast.

The team had watched for a whole month as the blonde had found fun in her flirtatious poking, the first time she had expressed interest in anyone since her divorce. And you hadn't had any complaints- well, any real complaints. Sure, you answered her stiffly, choosing to only call her Jennifer (because, according to her, only friends called her 'JJ' and you would vehemently attest that you were not friends), but, if you had actually been bothered by the constant poking you would've voiced it. So, she continued.

"Now, that's no way to greet your favorite co-worker." The blonde teased and you could swear you could hear the smirk in that overly-confident, pompous, velvety voice of hers.

You rolled your eyes as Penelope hit the button to put it on speaker, eyes glued to your face as if to gauge your reaction. But, over the last thirty days you had become excellent at putting on a poker face. With a dry tone, you responded.

"You're right, I'd never greet Emily that way." You cracked wittily, and a small chuckle ghosted from her lips.

They had only been gone for six hours and you knew she probably hadn't changed. She was probably still wearing that wonderful little blazer that fit her slender, toned arms so well. The one that made your eyes follow her as she moved throughout the room, that annoying, adorable little smirk on her lips because she knew it too.

"Ah, how you wound me, Y/N/N." The name grated against your ears and your lips twitched in annoyance.

You hated that nickname. You had never had a nickname before, which, you supposed should be surprising because you were well above the age that nicknames were typically given but no one had ever bothered to give you one and now that someone had (and that someone was Jennifer), you couldn't help but have your annoyance spike at the usage of it.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate when you call me that?" You asked sarcastically.

"Every time I use it." Jennifer responded cheekily, and you rolled your eyes, scooting in to your desk while Penelope giggled.

And just like that she was asking you for an address and you were dutifully searching for it. This case was similar to most you had worked on so far, though the likeness to the others did little to numb the severity of the situations these people found themselves in. You didn't know how they had all been doing it for so long. Looking at this team from the outside in had made it seem like a safe haven, a group of untouchables, of the elite. But now that you were one of them you could see that it was the opposite. That, eventually, this job chipped away at them, piece by piece. You wondered how long it would be until the first part of you left too.

The address pinged onto the corner of your screen and you were speaking into the phone once more, giving it to Jareau woman as she showered you in thanks. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment, or perhaps it was the case itself, the way the women all had blonde hair- it wasn't like Jennifer's hair, no, Jennifer's blonde was golden, like the sun itself had ventured down to earth to lay a kiss atop her head, bleeding some of its golden rays onto her long locks. Whatever the reason may be, you wouldn't particularly know because you were speaking far before you could think twice.

"Wait, Jennifer?" There was shuffling on the other end, the agent most probably gearing up as she walked to the squad cars, preparing to catch the man that had started the whole chase.

The blonde noticed the change in tone immediately. Of course she did, because you had developed a certain tone whenever you spoke with her. An exasperated, breathy, really adorably annoyed sort of tone that she knew was just for show because that cute little smile that you had, the smile that tilted down at the corners because you were trying so very hard to suppress it, always tugged at your lips. That tone was gone, stripped bare and all that remained was you.

"Yeah?" And now you noticed the change in tone, because the tone she normally used with you was irritatingly confident and poised and so frustratingly perfect that it made you automatically go in defense mode because, let's be honest, you were very far from it.

"Be safe." You said, and it seemed more like a plea than a statement and the back of your neck felt extremely hot when you recalled Penelope's presence behind you, the very excitable woman practically shaking at the small interaction and you hung up the phone before Jennifer could even respond.

"Not a word." You warned the Garcia woman, keeping your eyes glued to the screen before you. There was nothing to be done, at least, nothing pressing. You had given the address to the team. Now, what was left was the waiting. The waiting to confirm you had the right guy, waiting to make sure your team turned out okay (the standards for okay, you had learned, was that everyone was in one piece or not in jail by the end of the case), and that the paperwork was filled out.

Penelope Garcia, being that she was Penelope Garcia, did not follow your request. Her earrings jangled as she rolled her way to you, your shoulders touching as she occupied the space next to your desk. She hadn't been too thrilled at the idea of a new occupant in her bat cave. In fact, she had detested it, all but striking where Emily had brought up the idea. But, the Prentiss woman had been quite adamant about the new addition, claiming that the technical analyst needed help with the new workload as they began to take on more cases, not to mention your resume had been nothing short of sparkling.

Grumbling, Penelope had met you, her eyes landing on the woman staring at the rows of action figurines on display on the righthand corner of the room. She had watched the way you peered at them, the recognition flashing in your eyes and successfully called you out on being a nerd (a secret nerd, as she called you, because you didn't broadcast your 'dorky' interests quite like Penelope liked to.) And that had been that, the Garcia woman clearing out a space for your desk and promising not to tell anyone about your weird niche interests that she had all but pried out of you.

"'Be safe', I think I'm swooning." The Garcia woman fanned her face teasingly and you huffed, refusing to meet her eyes.

"What part of 'not a word' needed to be translated into Penelopian-"

"Peneloponese is actually my official language, but continue."

And this time you did turn to face her with a cross look, arms folded. "Very funny, we'll have to get you on Seinfeld." You said flatly.

The blonde let out a laugh, as she so often did around you. As adamantly against she had been on your presence in her bat cave, she was grateful you had come into her life. Previously, she had relied on figurines and plush animals to bring her happiness when the darkness threatened to breach her area of sanctitude but now she had you, her secretly dorky, outwardly cool coworker who very obviously had a crush on one of her oldest friends.

"I tease out of love, Y/N. Speaking of love,"

You turned back to your computer, cutting th Newman off swiftly. "No."

Penelope let out a whine. "No? You don't even know what I was gong to say." She argued, though she knew you did.

And you did. You knew that she was going to ask what the latest gossip was on you and Jennifer was because that's what she always asked and, yes, while you typically playfully denied anything going on you didn't quite this you could do that this time because this time you were far too trapped into your own brain to dig yourself out long enough to lie. You were stuck, deep, deep in there, think about all the ways in which you thought Jennifer Jareau was an actual angel sent from Heaven above, starting from the golden color of her hair and ending with the way she twirled her pens out of boredom. And you hated that you noticed all those things, mostly because it meant you spent more time than you cared to admit sneaking Ito the bullpen, making excuse after excuse just to stand there and observe the funny way she did things (she ate Cheetos for almost every meal and it baffled you how she was still standing).

But you also hated it because it meant that you liked her and you could not like Jennifer Jareau. You couldn't like her because there was no way in hell that you were dumb enough to set yourself up for failure like that, you weren't that sadistic.

You would never be able to handle the crushing weight of rejection that would inevitably come from unrequitedly liking Jennifer Jareau and, of course, it would be unrequited because how could she like you? How could she like you, someone who simply refused to read a book unless it was a physical copy (you didn't understand the appeal to e-readers because you couldn't smell the old pages as you flipped them or run your fingers along the spine as you read it. Someone who had learned seven languages, one of which was Klingon just because you wanted to see if you actually could (it hadn't been too hard but now you had to live with the fact that you actually knew Klingon). Someone who hated polka-dots. Someone who had a fear of walking over sewer grates because you thought you might just be the one person unlucky enough to fall in. How could Jennifer Jareau, the woman who always walked in to work, never a wrinkle in sight or a hair out of place, possibly like you?

Surely, the flirty nature of your conversations was just something to tease you with, something she found satisfaction in and you hated it because as much as you wished it was true, those sultry looks and kind smiles, the shoulder squeezes and over the shoulder smirks, the walks to the car and greetings in the morning, it wasn't. It wasn't true and it never would be because she was Jennifer Jareau, a newly divorced mother of two.

"Drop it, Pen." And before she opened her mouth once more your tone was softening, shoulders deflating from the tense posture you held before, slumping in vulnerability. "Please."

Penelope's lips pursed shut, the two of you sitting in that silence you had created for what seemed like eternity. The hum of the machines, something that had typically served as a sense of comfort to you, seeming to mock you, a symphony of interruptions that added to the very loud, very panicked screaming currently happening in your brain.

It was the kind of silence that you asked for but once you received but, you regretted it. The silence that enveloped you in its entirety, consuming you whole and dropping you right into the belly of the beast. You started to drown in that silence because, for you, it wasn't silence at all, it was just a big, large, bottomless abyss that served as a chasm for your thoughts to fill and boy did you have a lot of them, none of them entirely pleasant and almost all of them torturous. You felt yourself teetering onto the edge of that metaphoric chasm, tiptoeing the ledge of hate and love for Jennifer Jareau.

But, Penelope Garcia was nothing if not a savior, and her hand latched onto your still one with gentleness.

"She likes you too."

And just like that the chasm was emptying, mind going blank, going absolutely numb because your ears were ringing at even the slightest notion that Jennifer Jareau liked you. Your face must've displayed that because Penelope was continuing.

"She does, I swear, she told me. Well, she told Emily but it was Girls' Night Out and I went to get more drinks and she told Emily but you know that JJ can't hold her liquor all too well and I don't think either of them know that I know and I can't tell them that I know because then they'll know I was eavesdropping- which I wasn't! My eyesight is just really bad so I think my hearing is just hyper-sensitive-"

Your mind raced attempting to keep up with the blonde. "Wait, hold on." You throat felt dry, full of cotton and closing up by the second so you forced yourself to breathe. "She...likes me? Not as a friend but actually likes me?" And you hated how juvenile it all sounded, cringed at the concept that you had to ask your friend if the girl you liked, liked you back, but you had to.

Penelope took a breath of her own, that brilliant smile she always adorned coming back into play. A nod toddled out of her head and she squeezed your hand. "Yes! She never told me, though I think that's because everyone thinks I can't keep a secret. But she always talks about you, never shuts up actually, and the look on her face-"

"She likes me." And as cool as you always tried to look, as mature as you always claimed to be, that childish little smile that overtook your features demolished all of those walls in an instant. Your heart beat quickened and you could've sworn they were singing, singing her name, cheering it, really.

Jennifer. Jennifer. Jennifer.

"She does." The Garcia woman confirmed.

The phone ringing cut off your inner symphony, your hand flying to the phone as you answered it.

"Hello?" You were breathless and you couldn't quite help it.

"First ring. Nothing better to do than answer my calls, huh, Y/N?" And Jennifer was back on the line, the sound of sirens haunting her background. It had been almost an hour since your last call and you could safely assume she had gotten out of the situation alive, the unsub apprehended and the team beginning their victory laps.

"Don't flatter yourself, Jareau, I thought it was someone else." And because your mind had emptied, because your thoughts had gone blank, your quips weren't;t as lethal as they always were, your guard lowered.

JJ snorted. "Oh yeah, like who?"

You spun your chair around, blurting out the first name that came to mind. "Penelope." And instantly your hand was slapping your forehead.

"Penelope? Is she not right next to you?" A breathy little laugh escaped her lips and you stared at the blonde tech analyst, eyes widened and hands gesticulating wildly to which she merely shrugged.

"Uh, yeah, she is...it's a, uh, game...we play." Your excuse was weak and asinine but it was the only one you could think of and if you could astrally project out of your body to smack yourself you would but you couldn't. "Anyways, did you catch the guy?" You asked, quickly changing the subject.

If JJ noticed the awkwardness, she didn't mention it. "Yup, so you won't have to wait too long to see this face if that's what you were wondering." That confidence, the confidence that you know understood was her way of flirting and also would probably be your cause of death.

And with that new understanding, your mind simply stopped working. "Good." And at the realization of what you had just said you attempted to recover. "I mean that's good that you'll be home soon, not good that I'll see your face- not that I don't want to see your face, it's a good face, symmetrical and all that-"

Penelope was waving her hands, signaling for you to stop and your hand was covering your own mouth to stop yourself.

JJ was silent for a moment, the sound of a car door closing before she was speaking once more. "Are you okay, Y/N? You're being...weird."

"Ask her out!" Penelope hissed and you smacked her shoulder.

"Was that Pen What did she say?"

"Nothing!" You shrieked, before clearing your throat, voice returning back to normal. "Nothing, just, uh,"

The Garcia woman was back to miming and you watched as she panto-mimed a date (very poorly, you might add, but it was enough to make you relax, shoulders regaining some movement).

"Do you want to go out for dinner sometime?"

The silence you had so loathed had returned with a sickening fervor and your stomach flipped at it. "With me...in case that wasn't clear." Your hand scratched the back of your neck, hot with embarrassment toward the entirety of this exchange.

And just when you thought you might die from the embarrassment or Penelope might faint from the whole ordeal, Jennifer responded.

"Yes."

#jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds #penelope garcia

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henderylikespink · 4 years ago

Text

Fluff Alphabet

최산

Choi San

♡ San ♡

A- Affectionate

San can be so snuggly sometimes! He would really have to be in the mood though lol. I can picture him wrapping his arms around his s/o and snuggling his head against them. If this boy can lay his head on your chest, he is in heaven.

B- Baby (Do they want a family?)

San probably wants a small family. A kid or two, nothing too much. A small yet very close and united family. :)

San would totally be the type of dad that all his kid’s friends call him a DILF lmao.

C- Cuddle

I feel like San’s favorite cuddling position would be spooning. He doesn’t really have a preference little spoon but if you want him to hold you all night, he will!

I do feel like San could only cuddle right before falling asleep before turning to his side of the bed. If he gets too hot, he can’t sleep. His body has to be on the cooler side so even if he really wants to hold you, he really can’t. Unless you have a nightmare or something of that nature, then expect to wake up to his back in the morning. Not like that is a bad thing ;).

D- Dates

Netflix/ movies dates!! San would love to watch comedies with you to laugh. Romantic movies could also be on the agenda... Y’all would definitely share your favorite tv shows and cry, laugh, and gasp together lol.

Nap are definitely a passtime for y’all lmaoo cuddle on his bed with all his favorite plushies seems like heaven to me.

E- Everything (You are my…)

You are San’s reason to smile. Seriously, one glance at you and he’s beaming like the sun.

F- Feelings (When did they realize they had feelings for you?)

I feel like typically San would only fall for someone he has known for a while. He would realize that he had feelings for you when you guys started to hang out more than you usually did. Also, instead of hanging out with other friends as a group, y’all would hang out separately. It would really shock him to see how comfortable he has gotten with you without even noticing it.

G- Gentle (How gentle are they with you?)

San is a gentle man. Yes, he may get excitable at times but he always is soo gentle with you. One could say you didn’t know if the look in his eye was softer than his touch.

H- Hand/ Hold (How do they hold you?)

San loves to hold your hand! No matter where you are, expect to find his hand intertwened with yours. I can see him being the type of guy to place his arm around your shoulder. Ahhh it would be so freaking cute!!

San would like to cuddle when going to sleep and when watching tv. Other than that, I get the vibes that he likes his personal space. That’s probably why he likes holding your hand a lot.

I- Impression (First Impression)

San probably met you through friends so his first impression was that you were really chill and funny! He loves how well you got along with everyone. The first thing he noticed about you was your beautiful smile :).

J- Joker (Do they pull pranks?)

He would probably do things like poke your sides or hide from you when you're not looking but I don't know if that's pranking or if it's just annoying lol.

K- Kisses (How do they kiss?)

Sensual, sensual, sensual kisses dear god. He would just grab your chin and go to smooch town. He's definitely a clean kisser, none of that hot, messy shit for him. But remember because it's clean doesn't mean it can't get hot and heavy. ;))

L- Love (Who said I love you first?)

I can see San saying "I love you" first. I feel like San is the type of person who knows what he feels so he just goes for it. That doesn't mean he wouldn't be nervous about it, but he would probably sit on it for a few days before saying it to you. I can see him saying "I love you" between 6-8 months of dating.

M- Memory (Favorite Memory)

San's favorite memory is when he took you to the Han River. Your beautiful reflection that shone in the lake and the smile that accompanied it is forever ingrained in his memory. Full bellies, full smilies, and full hearts, it was definitely a memory San holds dear to his heart.

N- Nickel (Do they spoil you?)

San spoils you!! When he sees you he loves to bring you snacks, or perhaps that sweater that reminded him of you. He would love to have matching rings or necklaces with you.

O- Orange (What color reminds them of you?)

A light, light blue. It reminds him of the day he took you to the Han River when the clouds intertwined with the sky like the delicate hand he held in his own.

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

Definitely uses babe or baby. He uses your name occasionally but he likes babe or baby more.

Q- Questions (What questions are they always asking?)

Send you a good morning test everyday without fail with the question, “Did you sleep well last night?” If he can’t ask you in person.

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

San loves to catch up on TV shows he hasn’t been able to watch in a while. He loves to see you curled up besides him intently watch the TV. Takeout is a must.

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

I have a feeling that San doesn’t really show when he is sad. The only way you can really tell is due to his lack of energy. San likes to sleep when he is depressed because he has no energy to do anything else. Please spoon this baby when he is like this.

T- Talking (How much do they talk? What do they love to talk about?)

San has a great balance of talking and listening. He can do either one, if you are in a talkative mood he would love to listen to you! San probably loves to talk about the new cheorography Attez is learning, what happened in the latest episode of a show y’all watch, or show you funny/ cute memes he found.

U - Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Again, watching TV with you and the members helps him relax. He loves being surrounded by the people he loves and sharing a lot of laughs. When you both relax in all of his plushies on his bed, he instantly relaxes.

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

San likes to show off his fashion style. (Boy is always looking snatched) Expensive clothes, jewerly, shoes you get the jist of it. More importantly though, he is very proud of where he is in his career. Several people doubted him as a trainee (even his parents said they thought he would drop out) but he kept persevering to his debut and after. San is so immensely talented, he deserves to see the whole world watch him perform.

W - Why (Reasons why they love you)

San loves how comfortable he is with you. He feels like he has a best friend for life. He wishes the moments of full smiles and laughter never end with you.

X - Xylophone (What’s your song?)

I feel like San would vibe with the song “Paparazzi” by Slchld & oceanfromtheblue, really anything on that album. He really vibes with all the songs so I can see him playing this album when y’all are together.

Y - You (What you are to them?)

Like I mentioned before, you are his best friend for life and his place of comfort. You place so much calmness and reassurance in him that helps him keep moving forward.

Z - Zebra (What pet they want to have?)

San would totally get a small dog of some kind. It would be so cute!! He would always hold the puppy in his arms whenever he could.

Masterlist

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet

Please do not steal or repost my content. Reblogs are welcome.

Smut and mentions of sex toys ahead.

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

Steve is the King of aftercare. Anything you want, you will get. As soon as you are done he’ll hold you for a minute. Staying inside committing the memory in his mind.

Then he’ll get up clean you up. Sometimes, if you’re up for it, he gets turned on by your fucked out pussy and plays with it for a while. But most of the times he cleans you both up before snuggling you whispering sweet nothings, holding your hand, kissing you everywhere and making sure you know just how much he loves you.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part)

Steve is the furthest thing from vain. He doesn’t think about which body part he loves the most on you. He loves all of you. He won’t say no to seeing your curves in a nice dress every now and then though.

He’s fascinated by his biceps. People compliment him on them all the time and he gets why. He loves how small you look in them when he holds you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a disgusting person)

Depends on how he’s feeling that day. Sometimes on your ass, sometimes on your titts. But mostly he likes to cum inside you. Especially if you’re walking around with him inside you, it drives him wild.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Steve loves how small you are compared to him. Even if you are a big girl, he will always be stronger than you.

It all ties back to pre serum Steve. Who couldn’t even protect himself now can protect you from most things and take care of you in anyway he can.

E= Experience (How experienced are they?)

Little to none. He’s most likely a virgin. He’s been waiting for the right partner for a long time.

That doesn’t mean he’s bad at it. Far from it. He has a photographic memory and is quite intuitive he becomes a sexpert by like the third time. He’s just one of those people who’s naturally talented at it.

F= Favorite Position

Steve is a sucker for missionary. It’saIt classic for a reason. It let’s him see all of you. He loves how he can pin you down with his weight or hug you close to him by pulling you into him, all the while he’s fucking you into the mattress.

He also likes cowgirl/lotus. Both give him free access to your titts and ass. Also there’s just something about watching you using him to get yourself off.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

He’s usually pretty serious. Sex isn’t just a fun activity for him. It’s a way for him to worship you and express his love for you. He wouldn’t mind laughing here and there but he’ll be sure to turn those into moans.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s perfectly trimmed. Those Captain America suits are very tight, you can’t have a jungle growing down there. He’s a shade darker than his Golden blonde hair.

He doesn’t have a preference for hair on you. But he does expect some hair. So if you’re someone who likes to shave it all off, you have to warn him or the poor thing will be so confused.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

So romantic. Actual sex isn’t even the main event. There’s plenty of leading up to it. Maybe a nice dinner, some scented candles, massages, flirting, showering you with compliments. Hours of amazing foreplay. Lots of eye contact while doing it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t usually jack off. But sometimes he just can’t help himself. Maybe he saw something that reminded him of you or he just got impatient. He’ll do it quickly in the shower where he isn’t likely to get caught.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He occasionally likes being called captain. Especially if you scream it at the top of your lungs or whimper it out in a breathless moan.

Being the captain brings a lot of responsibilities and weight on his shoulders. Not when he’s with you. You don’t expect him to be perfect. He can just let loose and let his wild side take over. It amazes him just how the context of the word changes for him. Besides being your captain is much more rewarding

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

At first he couldn’t even think about doing it anywhere but in your bed. But then doing it in a cramped supply closet or on a quinjet a couple of times bought such a rush of adrenaline. He still prefers your bed where he can take care of you the best.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Small touches from you. Let it be just a graze or softly stroking his thighs. He picks up on your teasing quickly. You saying anything mildly sexual will turn him on. Anytime you want it he’s up for it unless he’s really tired. But hey sex is a great way to relieve stress right?

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t have many turn offs. He’ll be willing to try anything at least once for you. But he won’t do anything that seriously hurts you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Steve loves both. Usually he doesn’t like being the centre of attention, except when the attention is coming from you. But if he had to choose one he’d go for giving. The mission to accomplish while having sex is to please you. He’ll make sure you cum at least twice, maybe more.

He spends at least an hour to get you ready for him by then he’s desperate to just be in you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

It starts out slow and sensual but then gets rough and passionate. When you say things like ‘Fuck me harder' what else is he supposed to do but lose it?

Sometimes he likes to slap your ass just to add to the roughness of the situation.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t care much for them. He’d rather properly make love. He likes quick foreplay. Like that time he pulled you into a bathroom at a party and fingered you before stopping just as you were about to come. You called him an asshole but he took good care of you when you got home.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He’s a huge risk-taker and usually up for any kind of risks. That’s how he discovered just how much he likes the fear of getting caught.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Because of the serum he has a refractory period of like ten seconds. If you’re up for it he can go for hours as many times as you like. There are many days you limp while walking because of him.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He loves using toys. Be it to blindfold you or tie you to the bed while you beg him to let you touch him.

He especially loves when you use your toys to make yourself cum and tie him up. All he can do is watch. It’s a sweet torture. He doesn’t last long, you have wasted a lot of money on handcuffs broken by him. Is there a way to get vibranium handcuffs?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves teasing you so much. He realised the longer he teases you the harder your orgasm will be. He’d kiss you everywhere but where you need him to. He’ll take mercy if you absolutely can’t handle it only to tease you some more.

He’s low key very needy. He can dish it out but can’t take it. He gets too impatient if you tease him. That’s part of the fun though.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not very loud. A few grunts and moans here and there but for the most part kind of quiet. Mr ‘language' Rogers curses, takes the Lords name in vain while cumming or when you clench around him. He does like it a lot when you’re loud.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

I’ll give you two.

Steve loves cock warming. Maybe he’s working and feeling needy, he’ll just call you and ask you to sit on his lap and warm up his cock. Being inside you is one of his favorite things. Sometimes you’re just watching a movie cuddling, you’ll ask him to slip it in you just to keep it safe and warm. You’re both too tired to actually make love so it’s the next best thing.

Steve loves seeing pastel or white lingerie on you. They can be simple cotton panties but if they’re white or pink they’re so dubiously innocent looking. Because he knows just how dirty you can be. He likes ripping them off of you. He gets really lost in the moment sometimes.

X = X-Ray (Let s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Let’s just say he’s so big he has to have his pants tailored for him. Most likely cut because his Mum was a nurse.

He’s long and thick with some prominent veins. Most of all he’s got a beautiful cock. You have no problem telling him that and although he blushes when you do he likes hearing it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high. He thinks about it a lot. He has long intricate fantasies especially when he’s stuck in a boring meeting. Thinking about you just calms him down. No matter how bad his day is going he gets to see you, maybe make love to you at the end of it.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t need as much sleep as a normal person and he has trouble sleeping. Usually he’s up for a long time after you’re sleep. Listening to you breathing, playing with your hair or braiding it before he dozes off.

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